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!

A Light in the Night

The other evening, everything was going along fine. Admittedly, one of my sons had been ill earlier, but by the time he went to bed, everything was fine. We all went to bed. In the middle of the night, we heard a sound. We don't hear it that often, but when it comes on, we know to get up right away. It means that our youngest is having an asthma attack.

There's nothing as frightening for a parent, as to experience an ill child, and you're helpless to do anything to help him. We did give him a treatment, but he was still struggling to breathe. In our experience, if you can get him to talk to you, you know he'll be okay. The only thing he could gasp out was, "Get.... me... a bucket."

My hubby Tim took our baby off to the emergency room. He was more in control of the situation. I was losing my cool... and not liking that feeling one bit. I stayed at home... in the middle of the night... feeling dizzy, nauseous, and helpless. I called one friend, then another, then two more who I knew would pray for our little one. In the middle of the night, these friends shone brightly, as they prayed for God's hand to intervene in this situation. Two friends in particular talked to me, helping me not to confuse the events of the person's suicide with what was happening with my son.

A phone call came from my husband at the hospital; he said they were waiting to see the doctor, but that our Sweetie was actually talking and his breathing was better. I sat in the dark after the phone call. I was talking to God, and asking Him to speak to my heart. He sent me where He always does -- to His word. I was directed to Kings, to the story where the widow gave her flour cake to Elijah. Then, something happened to her son: "And his sickness was so serious that there was no breath left in him."

That line of the Bible hit me, considering what was happening to my little boy. I read on. The widow asked Elijah, "What have I to do with you, O man of God. Have you come to me to bring my sin to remembrance, and to kill my son?" I don't know about you, but when my children face any sickness that's serious, I start asking God if He's punishing me for some of my past sins. Now, as an on-fire for Jesus believer, I KNOW that that's not the way God works; however, in those times of tired despair, it's easy to make it about yourself and what you may or may not have done to cause this problem.

The real deal is, the rain falls on the just and the unjust. Every single person has his or her own walk that they have to walk -- one that prayerfully leads them to the loving arms of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. We become so interconnected with our children, that we forget that they are NOT us, but rather a unique person that God wants to use -- separate from us. It is our job to raise up our children in the way that they shall go... and I pray every day that I don't do some fool-hearty thing to mess them up.

While they're in the middle of a medical emergency, we would give ANYTHING for them to be alright. I thank God He raised up the little boy in the time of Elijah. I thank God He is the same, merciful God who helped my son a few nights ago. I thank God for His watchful eye, and the wonderful friends he has given me. Blessed be the name of the Lord!

Running the Race

In the town from which I hail, a 10 k run would be held every year around the Fourth of July. Those of us along the route would sit on our porches, some would pass out water, and most would cheer on the tired, sweaty runners as they'd make their way towards the home stretch. We were closer to the end of the route than the beginning, so we got to see these athletes after they made their way along the old country road, up a hill or so and back towards the starting point, all on what would possibly be one of the hottest days of the year. They'd already heard the starting gun and set out, full of hope to be the first across the finish line; some had the sheer look of determination on their faces, while others had a look that said, "Why in the world did I EVER decide to DO this?!"

There was one woman in particular, whose presence basically signified that the race was over. Karen was her name. On the whole, people who watched the race made Karen the butt of jokes; she was overweight, always started out strong, yet ended up walking by the time she got to our home. Most people probably thought, "Why does she participate in this race every, single year? She always comes in dead last -- except for those who have dropped out -- and she always ends up walking. What is wrong with her?" Personally, I thought she was nuts. Who would want to set themselves up for this humiliation every year, anyway?

My mind was changed the year that I noticed that children around my age were allowed to run the race. There they were... the champions... the exhausted, yet still strong... and then finally, them. Them? Yes, there was Karen, again, dead last, walking past our home. Only that year, she was walking side-by-side with a young boy. I remember hearing her talking to the boy: "You're doing GREAT! You're going to make it all of the way to the finish! I'm so proud of you! It doesn't matter that you're not running; just make it to the finish." My opinion of her in that race changed that day, and from that year forward, every time I saw her bringing up the rear, I would cheer for her,,, honestly cheer for her. She taught me a lesson that year which came back to my mind late last night.

The race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong. God does not care if we come in first in this race of life. What he cares about is that we finish the race we have signed on to run. When we said, "I accept you as my Lord and Savior, Jesus," we stated that we officially entered the race, and we would try our best to run it to completion. We may be spiritually overweight and out of shape, we may be Christians who are as strong as little children. We may fall in pot-holes along the road. We may hit rough patches, and sometimes we may have to change down the pace from a run, down to a slow crawl. As our feet hit the hot, unforgiving pavement, the air coursing through our lungs burns and we dream of water... cold, clear, water. Sometimes as we run this race of faith, we encounter those who ask, "Why do you even want to be a Christian, anyway? Why do you need that crutch? What are you, nuts?"

The wonderful thing is, God allows us to encounter those who have run this course that we're on; those who have run the race will encourage you and cheer you on just as you're ready to give up. They'll say, "I've been where you are, I was about to give up, myself, but I made it through, with the help of the Lord. Just keep pressing on, keep pressing on, you can DO it, you can MAKE it!"

He'll also give you His word, Himself. You'll be drawn to passages as Psalm 37:23-24: "The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord, and He delights in his way. Though he fall, he shall not be utterly cast down; for the Lord upholds him with His hand," and verse 34: "Wait on the Lord, and keep His way, and He shall exalt you to inherit the land..."

You'll read Proverbs 24:16 - "...A righteous man may fall seven times and rise again, but the wicked man shall fall by calamity," and you'll get the strength to get off of your knees to continue the race.

Isaiah 40:31 will spur you onward: "But they who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.

You'll take comfort in Hebrews 12:1-2: "Therefore we also, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which so easily ensnares us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith, who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God."

Yeah, the devil has thrown practically every road block in front of us imaginable. Yet, with the help of the Lord, we shall run on. We've been mocked for our relationship with the Holy One. Yet, with the help of the Lord, we shall run on. We don't need to come in first place; we just need to finish the race to succeed. We are surrounded by unseen witnesses, cheering us on to finish the race that the Lord has set before us. If God be for us, who can be against us? With the help of the Lord, we shall run, walk, crawl over the the roadblocks of the enemy, if we have to, to finish the race. And then, we will encourage other children in the Lord, and tell them with the highest assurance, "You can make it! Look, the finish line is just in sight! Don't give up! Don't give up! Don't... give... up."

I beg your pardon...

I'm watching the biopic about Johnny & June Carter Cash, "Walk the Line." I actually met them, once, a long time ago while I worked for a radio station. Here was a man with more hits on the Billboard top 100 than the Rolling Stones (I love that, for some strange reason), and yet, for a time, he thought he was a big nothing. That amazed me. Then, it stopped amazing me, when I've looked at my own life, and how I've been afraid to go out and be all that God wants me to be, simply because I've looked at my family background, looked back at my own mistakes in life, looked in the mirror and said to myself, "Who do you think you are? Do you REALLY think YOU have what it takes to accomplish that goal?!"

I'm not saying that I have what it takes to be a top-selling recording artist, I'm saying, what's stopping me from being the Christian Storyteller that I'd like to be, or the writer, songwriter, artist, and public speaker that I feel God would like me to be? Have I been believing that the Goliath in my life is more powerful than the Lord who lives in my heart?

I'll admit -- these past couple years have been enough for many people to say, "Oh, maybe the Lord is telling you and Tim to move on... wipe the dust off your feet... people aren't listening to the message you're preaching. It's a message straight out of the Word, but this area just doesn't want to hear it. It's too entrenched with families that have been here for decades, possibly hundreds of years. Maybe unbeknownst to you, the ground is cursed."

It's been hard to give your heart out to people, to honestly care about people and pour yourself into their welfare, just to have them turn their backs on you the moment they hear something they don't 100 % like, but something 100 % true, out of the Word of God. Funny, it seems that as soon as we take one step forward, the enemy tries to violently push us two to three steps back.

For example, our church is a testing facility for the Census Bureau, we're organizing a Storytelling day for children who normally don't go to church, and we're holding a CPR course at the church. We really have been pushing forward. Then, on Saturday, a beautiful day here, we got a call from ADT; there was trouble at the church. My husband left, and said he'd be back soon enough.

He came back about an hour later, soaked from head to foot. A one-half inch pipe somehow burst in the attic, causing the water to pour all over the place. The ceiling in the kitchen collapsed, at least three inches of water filled the church, and it was literally raining on my husband's head as he tried to turn off the main water valve. When I got there, it wasn't half as bad as when my husband walked through the door. It was depressing, to say the least. But, as we were using every available shampooer to suck up the water, there was one thought that kept playing over and over and over in my head.... DON'T.... GIVE..... UP.

In the interim, I've been made aware of prayers going up for us. Pastor Ronnie has become a good friend to us; even though our families have never met, we are still joined together as members of the family of God.

I've wondered, why in the WORLD is the enemy attacking our little church with such a fury? In comparison to Joel Osteen, Rod Parsley, anyone on television, or most churches, for that matter, we could be considered nothing. We have tried to fulfill the commission of our Lord to the best of our abilities, and we fall to our knees to pray for our area. There are times that Tim and I have stayed up to pray for this area, for our state, for the world. I have felt like the Israelites when they were facing Goliath. He seemed SO BIG, and they seemed SO SMALL But, we have a champion who is ready, willing and present to help us, if we call on Him -- and when He arrives on the scene, He is the only one who can truly defeat the enemy. We just have to trust. And that can be harder than it seems.

As I was thinking of all of these occurrences, I kept thinking of something I have said many times before to people: Jesus NEVER said, "Take up your fluffy pillows and follow Me." NO -- instead Jesus said, "Take up your CROSS and follow Me." The cross was a place of loneliness, pain, and being forsaken, last I checked. And contrary to what some of those televangelists said back in the 1980's, the REAL battle for you begins when you accept Jesus as your Savior, because that's when the enemy knows he's lost one to the Father, and he will play the dirtiest that he can to make you turn away from following Christ. Some days are going to be lonely, other days will be painful, while many days you'll feel forsaken. Yes, Jesus said, "Take My yoke upon you, for My burden is light." But think about it,,, there IS a YOKE involved. In this life we WILL have trouble... that's a promise. But here's a promise that's just as sure: Jesus will NEVER leave us nor forsake us, and He has overcome the world!

"Goliath" may be throwing everything at us, but the time is coming when he WILL fall. And then our church will be known not for the pastor or his wife who are there, but rather, for the GOD who SUSTAINED all who went there during the darkest times, so that they could go out and spread HIS word of deliverance and hope to a world that seems so hopeless. In the meantime, because I'm the Lord's and He is mine, I'll walk the line....

The "joys" of homeschooling

I was feeling like an utter failure earlier today.

I was still reeling from my second son's recent lying problem -- and I don't mean "lying down on the job." No, I'm referring to the problem of lying over the smallest item, because he doesn't want to be seen in a negative light by his father and me. I could have hollered at him, spanked him and made him feel horrible about it, but I felt like the Lord wanted me to really speak with my son -- not at him, study the Word with him, to show this child where and why lying is wrong and hurtful. By the time we were done, he hugged me and told me he was sorry.

Then, I've been dealing with this wonderful job I've taken on otherwise known as homeschooling. I know full well if my children were placed in publich school, they'd be forced to take Ritalin or one of the alternatives. If those medications work for some people, God bless them,,, but I already had my eldest in the public and private school systems, and both groups stated that I needed him on some kind of medication. Dealing with the mood swings, the tears, the tics, and STILL not completing all of his work in school got to be too much.

Well, my dear daughter is the carbon copy image of my eldest boy,,, and it's not condusive to homeschooling in a "traditional" school-type style of learning. It will take her an hour to do a simple ten-minute "quiet-time" assignment. After an extremely rough day of trying to finish up yesterday's work today, and not getting very far, I called up my friend Marie, and said, "I REALLY cannot do this,,, anymore. But, I know she would have to face the same garbage as the oldest." I was really down.

She was having a fun day of making plaster molds with her sons, and took time away from her busy schedule to comfort a friend and encourage a sister in need. She encouraged me to look up alternate learning styles and curriculum for my daughter. I then found and gave my daughter a learning styles test. I learned that I've been teaching her in the wrong style, as she's a kinesthetic learner, and I've been teaching her from a curriculum that accentuates a ton of writing and listening to what I show her.

I have a curriculum that I can look at -- it'll take a lot of work, but she's worth it to me. I want there to be joy in homeschooling, for the children and me.

No Religion

My second son stayed at a friend's house overnight. I try to not have fear during these times; usually, I have heard my mother's words of reasoning as to why I was never, ever allowed to stay over night at a friend's house as a child. As my children go overnight to friend's houses, I am finding that my biggest fear is that my child doesn't embarrass himself -- or our family. Fortunately, I am told that my children are actually nice and courteous.

At any rate, I arranged to meet my child at the library, where they were holding an "Egyptian Day" there. Whilst hanging out with my youngest, and talking to one friend, another friend came up and alerted us of a volunteer person, wearing a shirt that had the word, "religion" with a circle and slash over it, symbolizing "no religion."

At first, I was incensed. Why is it that non-Christians can wear whatever they wish, I said, while we as Christians are constantly told what we can and cannot wear when we volunteer for different things? Then, I thought, "What an opportunity to witness!" So, I was pointed in the direction of the shirt-wearing offender, and I went on my way to happily declare that I, too, did not believe in religion, but rather, I believed in having a relationship with Jesus Christ, and that if she'd like to know more, I would be more than glad to share what a relationship with Jesus could be like.

As I was going over there, I started praying: "What do you want me to say, Lord?"

"She's MINE, just talk to her," was the reply.

I saw her sitting there, by herself, wearing THAT shirt. I noticed a cross hanging from her neck. It was then that the light-bulb came on in my head, and I said to her, "Hi,,, I noticed your cross, and your shirt, and so I'm guessing you're not against Jesus, but rather, a religious spirit."

She showed me the back of her shirt, which confirmed what I thought... she IS a Christian.

"I've gotten a LOT of nasty looks today and questions regarding this shirt," she replied. I asked if I could sit and just talk to her. She welcomed it. We talked about how she was a former PK (Preacher's kid) and how her dad is no longer preaching, but is still a believer. We shared stories about how difficult it is to be a PK and a PW (preacher's wife), and understood as only people who have been in the trenches can understand as we talked.

I was so looking forward to sharing the gospel of Christ, but I have to say, I was SO MUCH happier to meet this daughter of the Faith (incidentally, her name), and to learn of our similarities (we both love to paint, write and such), to share concerns and desires for our families, and to let her know that I would pray for her and her family. When someone came to get a tattoo, I was saddened, for our time together was cut short.

Afterward, I thought about how I was so ready to rush to judgment of a girl wearing a shirt that she bought at Creation Festival; instead, I was taught a valuable lesson by the Lord. Next time I see a nose-ring, or a tattoo, or the next time I see an outfit that I necessarily wouldn't wear, I will have to remember that God does not look on the outside man,,, he looks on the heart. Thank you, Lord, for this wonderful lesson!