Proverbs 31 Woman.... In Training

Lord, I believe -- help my unbelief

2011-07-10T17:33:00.000-07:00

There are problems that exist with a person who has experienced Post Traumatic Stress Disorder; sometimes fear will hit a person with no rhyme nor reason. You will start to panic over things with which you feel you have no control. When a believer in Christ has panic attacks, it seems as though it brings a whole new level guilt and shame to a person, which brings on MORE fear -- if one allows the guilt and shame to be placed upon the Christian suffering with PTSD. When a person describes to another believer that they've had another panic attack, and ask for prayer, that second person will either lift up the person dealing with panic attacks with soothing words of comfort either from the Bible or from their own lives and how God supplied all of their needs, or they'll respond with, "You REALLY need to get a better hold of Jesus, there! Where is your faith?!" And that's the exact thing that completely hurts and frustrates the believer beset by panic attacks; I cannot begin to tell you the many times I've been upset and angry with myself over my seeming lack of faith. And this week, it happened again.

Let me elucidate: we just got back from our vacation. Before the vacation, I started experiencing unmitigated fears. I was afraid that the roller coasters upon which we'd be riding would malfunction. I was afraid that our youngest son would wander away from us and that we'd lose him -- possibly to a sex-offender who likes little boys. I was afraid that our RV would be involved in a wreck. I was afraid that I'd get a phone call from my cardiologist, asking me to come in earlier than my scheduled appointment; a call to come in earlier means that there ARE major problems that need to be addressed. Fear was really getting in the way of any anticipation of the journey our family in which our family was going to be partaking.

I brought along some yarn, a notebook, the Bible and some books to look at whilst riding along. Lately, God has really been telling me how much He loves me and wants to help me deal with my fears and trust issues, even to the point of letting me know that He considered me like a lamb who is being attacked by the enemy that He needed to rescue and carry in His arms to a safe place.

The enemy likes to hold a person in bondage, however, and will even use Scripture, if he can. One piece of scripture he was using was, "Perfect love casts out all fear." How can that verse be used to keep a person in bondage? Well, I was allowing myself to believe that I must not REALLY have Christ in ALL of His fullness living in me, because I was allowing myself to fear. I needed to cast that fear out, right?

Well, during our trip, we did not get into an accident, although one of our rear tires DID blow. God supplied our needs according to His riches in glory. However, on Thursday, we got a call from the cardiologist; they wanted to meet me five days earlier than my scheduled appointment. Even though it made sense what my husband said (if the problem were bad, they would have asked for me to come in right away, and that probably a doctor was going to be busy and they needed to switch up appointments), the tightening in my chest happened. The ability to breath in an even manner left me. My thoughts were racing with worriment over a variety of issues.

In the midst of this, God was trying to speak into my heart. Bible verses were coming into my heart. "God hasn't given us a spirit of fear but a spirit of power, love and a sound mind." I was remembering that nothing shall separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus. In my spirit, I really felt God reassuring me, letting me know that Tim was right and that I needed to believe in Him. I remember praying, "My Father,,, I love you and I believe -- help my unbelief!" However, I couldn't sleep. I did what I do when I can't sleep; I get out my Bible, go to another room and pray that God help me deal with what I'm going through. You see, we're not battling with people, but rather with principalities and powers that are beyond our comprehension; so, with that in mind, I need to get out the two-edged sword and I need to oil up my squeaky armor.

Not only did I get out my Bible, I also got out one of those books I brought along for the journey: "Victory Over the Darkness." I'm learning a little bit at a time that I am not what I DO,,, I am who I am in Christ. I am more than I have allowed myself to believe. It's not an overnight thing, but I'm learning that I need to truly accept that God DOES love me, and He does NOT expect me to be perfect until I meet Him face to face, where I'll be perfected in Him.

The next morning, I called up the cardiologists and asked them if there was a special problem; they said that they only needed to change my appointment because they have scheduled surgeries for the same day that I was supposed to have my appointment; they apologized and said that they should have explained that on the phone. Praise God!

Later on, I was once more angry at myself for my fears, and asked God if I had enough love in my heart. Once again, He came through. I could hear His gentle voice to my spirit: "My dear, WHO is Love?" I answered, "You, Lord." "How was Perfect Love personified," He asked me. "Jesus Christ is, Father," I answered. "Then who are YOU to think that you can do what only My Son can do? Rest in My Son, and let Him carry you through this, My dear child." I started crying, but they were tears of joy. In the same way that I cannot SAVE myself, I cannot CHANGE myself, except through the power of Jesus Christ! The Lord is utterly amazing!

So, I went on water rides, some roller coasters and had a good time the rest of our vacation. God sustained us; we didn't get into any wrecks, we didn't lose our youngest, we didn't experience any ride malfunctions, and God is working things out according to His perfect plan. I know that the enemy will try to fight the gains that I shall make, but I will press on in Him. So Lord, I believe -- and please help my unbelief.

Amazing Love

2011-04-21T16:48:00.000-07:00

Have you ever trusted someone... shared your life with that person... shared your dreams, hopes aspirations with that someone... just to have them hurt you to the core of your heart? I have experienced hurt that has been so deep, the pain cuts to the core of one's being is utterly excruciating. I have trusted people who I have loved so very deeply, only to have them rip my heart into a hundred-million pieces by their betrayal. I have walked the floors late at night, crying out to God: "Please, Father, please take this pain away from me; I'm almost certain that this time it will utterly kill me."

Why is this person not talking to me? Why is another person so cruel? Why am I so misunderstood? Why does it seem like people are getting WORSE, instead of BETTER? Why do I feel so alone?

Sound familiar? Does that sound like you when you're going through a hard time? Just when you feel alone, please realize that you are NOT alone.

There was once a certain person. He wasn't anything special to look at, but BOY, could that man tell the BEST stories! They always seemed to point to something special, but many people didn't seem to understand what that "special" thing happened to be.

This man had many friends, too; some were quite wealthy, others dirt poor. Some had positions of high authority; others were prostitutes and drunkards. Even among those in his inner circle, the friends ranged from a person who was crazy about politics, to simple fishermen. He knew learned men, men who were completely uneducated, and yet, he was easily a friend to them all. If he were on Facebook, the friends list this guy would have would be mind boggling -- as well as confusing.

He was known for helping people in any way he could. He helped feed people who were hungry, he helped mend broken hearts, and it was amazing how he could be so charismatic that at times people talked about wanting him to be their leader, yet say things so controversial, that suddenly, others wanted him dead. Even in those moments, he seemed indestructible.

Then, the biggest week of his life came to pass. There he was, being applauded by all. He was hailed as something special. People poured out blessings and cheers upon him. It was better than when a championship football team has a ticker-tape parade through town. How the mood changed within a few short days!

Now, please picture this very same man, pacing back and forth. He asked for his best friends to pray for him. Please. You see, he knew that someone with whom he shared his life, his dreams, his joys as well as his sorrows, did something horrible; this "friend" turned his back on this wonderful man. This man knew that his former friend whom he trusted, decided to betray him in ways that he did not want to dream possible.

But there he was, pacing alone in a garden. After begging God, "Father, PLEASE.. take this pain and sorrow away from me" -- silence. Curious, he checked on those previously mentioned praying friends. Only, they weren't praying. "What's happening?"

"Oh, we're sorry... we'll pray, now."

This man couldn't be so lucky.

In that garden was the biggest battle of the ages. YES -- the birth of Jesus was most certainly important. YES -- the ministry of Jesus was most certainly important. YES, the death of Jesus and His resurrection was most certainly important beyond measure. But that battle, that inner struggle between the God-Man was the struggle to end all struggles. He KNEW that angels could be called down to rescue Him; but He didn't call for those angels. He asked for His Father take away the cup that was to befall Him. He knew He was going to face being spat upon, beat upon, jeered, betrayed and forsaken -- even by them who were at one time closest to Him. Jesus was in that garden, crying out to God for YOU and ME.

Amazing, isn't it? I don't know about you, but I have been guilty of turning my OWN back on Jesus at one time in my life. I have betrayed Him and His trust in me, numerous times. I wonder how many times He has felt all alone?

This week, in the midst of preparing for that joyous time known as Resurrection Sunday, I ask you to reflect upon the One who truly is, "closer to us than a brother," and thank God that He truly DOES know what we feel like in the very worst of our struggles. He's been there, He knows, and yet, He STILL loves YOU, in spite of it all!

Amazing LOVE! May you experience that very same type of love, my friend.

Behind the Mask -- Why I'm Walking

2010-04-07T11:18:00.000-07:00

This year, I'm going to walk again for the Pregnancy Care Center. This organization helps women to see that, when they find themselves in a situation where they are "with child" and are exploring their "options," that they make a truly informed choice -- hopefully, the choice for life. And, if someone does unfortunately abort their child, they are there yet again to help with post-abortion counseling, so that the mother of the aborted child can hopefully embrace forgiveness in Christ. Walking for this Center the day before Mother's Day is important to me, and I take walking for it personally.

Whenever "Sanctity of Life" Sunday hit whichever church where ever we happened to attend, I will say that I truly despised it. I hated seeing photos of aborted fetuses. I felt uneasy every time the Bible verses would pop up on the screen saying that those who shed innocent blood would suffer, as well. As the years went by, I would look at my wonderful second husband and say, "I really need to go check on the children." He'd pat my leg and say, "Go on."

I'd make it to the bathroom and sob. Tears pouring down my cheeks. On the outside, I was very outspokenly anti-abortion. I actually got gently scolded by someone at one church because she told me that there were people who had abortions, who truly felt sorry for them, and that I needed to find a more gentle approach to my feelings. Inside, I felt like a phony. I'd look at people who had children out of wedlock and envy them, heralding their choice for life. After all, I hid the secret behind a mask, known only to Tim, and the family of my never to be born child -- I had had an abortion. I was that killer, that murderer, that one who deserved death for the death of my child. For years I hid behind the mask. I'd smile on the outside, but would carry that gigantic blood-covered "A" for abortion on the veil of my heart.

Years ago, I finally met my British pen-pal. He was gorgeous to me, inside and out. Here, standing before me was the one I'd pour my heart out to about home, school and all that was right and wrong in the world, and the one who still liked me, while knowing all there was to know about me. I never shared anything with anyone like I had him, and I never did so again, until I met my Tim. Dave declared that he loved me. I was running from God at the time, angry that my beloved Gram was ill and in the nursing home. I had already crossed the threshold of sex before marriage, my rebellion spurred along by the lie of all lies: "Oh, it's the EIGHTIES (NINETIES, a NEW millennium), God HAS to understand that TIMES have CHANGED!" Needless to say, if I would have been reading my Bible, I would have read and understood that God does NOT change. Sin is still sin, no matter which decade you live in.

Anyway, Dave declared to me that he wanted to marry me. I made plans to go to Merseyside, England, as it would have been difficult for him to get a job here in the United States in his profession. I made the journey; I was scared, excited, hopeful, planning to live my days, growing old with my dearest and best friend in the world. The first weeks were stupendously exciting as we painted our flat, which sat above a newspaper shoppe. We lived, laughed, loved; I was truly happy. Down the street from us on the way to the corner market, was a bridal shoppe. In the window was a beautiful light pink wedding dress; it was so light pink it was almost white. And I imagined wearing that dress. I was still enough of a traditionalist to know that there was no way I could wear white, but I was looking forward to wearing that dress. I was making plans to work at a videographer's/voice-over establishment, and they were excited to get an American to provide voices for a unique sound. Life was good.

Around Thanksgiving time (I still served a Thanksgiving meal on a Saturday, even though they do not celebrate Thanksgiving over there), I wasn't feeling well. I had to go to the bathroom constantly. We went to a wonderful town where there were Christmas lights galore; his sister, who was at the end of her pregnancy, noticed how much I was going to the bathroom and exclaimed, "Lovey, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were preggers, too!" Dave and I talked about it, as I couldn't even be near lard-fried chips -- the smell would send me to the bathroom; and then we took the test. Positive. .

Dave gave me the biggest hug I'd ever received and yelled, "We're having a BABY! You're making me a DADDY!" We went to his doctor's, and he excitedly said how happy he was for the both of us. He gave me a pamphlet showing me how the baby develops in the womb, told me he'd see us the next month. We went to the fish and chippy and while waiting for our food, Dave would press his face against my belly, and yell, "Daddy loves you, Baby!" and then excitedly tell all in the fish and chippy, "I'm going to be a Daddy!" We'd get hearty congratulations from smiling strangers. His sister hugged us when we told her the wonderful news, exclaiming how the cousins (her child and ours) would be best of friends, as they were going to be so close in age. Then, we told his Mum and Dad.

At first, they seemed to accept our happy news. Dave's excitement was contagious. Then Pam (his Mum), asked to talk to him alone. He was gone from the flat for hours. When I rushed up to greet him, there was a tenseness that I had never seen from him before. He told me in no nonsense terms that we needed to "forgo" the plans of having this baby. That we didn't have enough money. What would our friends think? Mum would disown him. That we could have other children together. That children age you quickly.

The reasoning's were ridiculous to me. They angered me. They frightened me. I screamed at him. I cried at him. I called him names I cannot repeat here. I swore to him that if he wasn't willing to fight for his child, that I still would. I ran out of the flat, past the bridal shop, over the bridge, and hid in a bog-type area near his sister's home, which wasn't far from where we lived. It was cold, very cold that night. They looked for me. By this time, he must have called his sister, because she was out looking for me, along with her husband. I waited until Dave had to go to work, and then I went home to the flat.

Our relationship started to change considerably. I was being unreasonable. I then called my mother, tiptoeing around the subject. I had no money, as I used it all to go over to England, and then spent money that I did have over there on household items. I asked, "If I needed to uh, come home for any reason, do you know if I could borrow the money from you?"

"Oh, so you've got yourself in a pickle that you can't get out of? Are you splitting up already? I knew you would....." It went on. I knew that the people who always got my sister out of scrapes were not about to help me. I just wanted to get home so that I could have the baby, and then hopefully Dave change his mind, would want to see the baby and then all would be well once more. I knew he was frightened, and I wanted to fight for us as much as I wanted to fight for that baby. I had no friends over there except his friends. There was no family over there except his family. And there was no way home that I could see. Other friends in the US were told that I was pregnant, but they didn't know this new problem. How could I say anything was wrong? I gave up every thing I had to go be with this guy. It seemed crazy, didn't it? I must have read too many stupid romance novels.

Dave set up an appointment with his doctor; this time it was to get an okay for an abortion. At that time in England, to get an abortion, you had to get the permission the doctor. He had to state that the female was in her right mind at the time, or something like that, because he had to sign a paper okaying it. He was SUPPOSED to see me. I refused to go into the doctor's office. Dave went in, and in ten minutes came back out, with a signed paper. He called and set up the appointment at the clinic. His mother gave him the money to pay for it. I begged and pleaded. I asked for us to PLEASE give this child a shot at life. I begged them to please consider adoption for this baby. I was refuted on every option. The night before the procedure, I had plans to go into hiding of some sort. He didn't have on his uniform and said he wanted to drive me somewhere; he wanted us to go somewhere overnight. I packed my items, thinking that he was changing his mind. We ended up at his parents house. He was a bobby -- a policeman. There was no use calling the police about this. His father suffered from insomnia; he'd be able to know if I'd try to sneak out of the house. But where would I sneak away to? I had no where to go. No money, no options. I didn't sleep. I only cried, begging God to somehow rescue me from this. Rescuing didn't come. December 19th, 1990 will be a date that will live on in infamy for me.

Dave came. He piled me into the car and we drove not far from Penny Lane and Strawberry Fields. I used to love songs regarding those places, but from that moment on, I would hate those songs for what it reminded me of. Dave stood over me while I signed the papers. I had one more chance. I was in the room with a roomful of other girls getting the same thing done. There was a lot of crying along with my own. One girl who was beside me, however, exclaimed how excited and free she was going to be after this was done. I wanted to choke her.

Right before the nurse the nurse injected me with the fluid to put me to sleep for the procedure, I said, "Please, I don't want to get this done!"

"Then what are you here, for?" she said with disdain in her voice.

I awoke and felt like a piece of me was lost forever. I sobbed, vomited, and hated myself with a hatred beyond any comprehension. The formerly excited girl was sobbing, herself. The mournful cries in that roomful of girls will be unforgettable to me for the rest of my life. I have been told that in the United States, girls are not usually put to sleep while getting the procedure done, that they can hear what goes on. That would be utterly devastating.

From that point on, I was constantly taking baths. I spent hours in the bathtub, the water getting long cold. I tried to wash what I did away, and could not. I felt numb. Dave came to the bathroom one time and said, "You can say it, you hate me. Don't you?" I looked up at him and said, "I feel absolutely nothing. I don't know how or what to feel. I don't hate you, I don't feel anything at all for anything or anyone. I hate me. I hate me. I hate me." That only angered him. We told everyone else the other lie -- we lost the baby. I made him tell people that.

I was asked to go to church with Pam on Christmas Eve. I didn't want to go and pretend I was holy. I was a murderess. I didn't want the abortion at all, but I didn't fight hard enough, either. Dave, the rest of the family, some friends and I went to the pub. I've never been a drinker, but I sucked down two glasses of wine and stared at someone. She asked me if I was alright, and I started crying, saying, "NO! NO! I am NOT alright! I don't have my BABY!" Her sister and the other gal took me straight to the bathroom; I was an embarrassment to Dave that night.

Then we went to a New Year's Eve party the next week. I didn't drink a single thing. He drank until he was sloshed. He then got the "wonderful" idea of switching clothes with a female. He looked odious to me, and I told him that he was embarrassing me. He looked straight at me and said, "I don't even KNOW you, anymore." It was like the death nell tolling on us at that moment.

I took up walking alone at night, walking aimlessly. I couldn't live with myself. I saw a bridge. I looked to the left and the right and saw no one. I lost my baby. I was losing my best friend. I lost my God; after all, how could He love me after what I did to the gift He gave me? I climbed up on the railing and determined that I was going to rid the world of the worst piece of garbage. No one would miss me, anyway, I thought. I was unlovable and unloved. I looked down, trying to muster up the courage to jump. Then I saw it. A piece of garbage floated by. Something in my head screamed, "You are NOT GARBAGE!!!" I stood up on that ledge, crying. I started to get down when someone drove up, and an individual yelled, "OY! You there! Are you alright?" I said weakly, "Yes, I'll be alright."

"Do you need a ride somewhere, Luv? If you need anything, I'll help."

"No... no, thank you."

I turned around to look towards the car, and it was gone. I often wonder if that was an angel coming to my aid.

Four weeks after the abortion, I was on a plane ride home. Dave's Mum had paid for the ticket, he telling me only two days previously that he made a mistake, that he didn't love me, anymore. I'm told that most times, the relationship between a man and a woman hardly ever lives through an abortion.

It took many years of self-hatred, self-punishment with an abusive es-husband (and saying "I except my punishment, O Lord" when referring to my relationship with him), and then the road to healing when my Tim married me and started encouraging help for me. I've had trouble with every single pregnancy since that abortion. With every trouble that occurs to me related to my children now, I think back, "You're reaping what you sowed." It takes years, a ton of reading about the forgiveness of God, and sometimes it takes seeking help from a therapist to get over the feelings of guilt and shame. I needed to talk to someone from the Pregnancy Care Center after getting my tubes tied, as I felt such horrible guilt that "there I was, telling God what I was doing with my reproductive organs again!" I went through the Post Abortion Recovery program, and I'm thankful I did. They encouraged me to name the child, and I really don't think I was ready to name it at that time. I always assumed it was a boy. Recently, I've wondered if it was really a girl. Again my heart broke. I don't know why, maybe because of my relationship with my beautiful daughter, and I know what I took away from my children.

If I were to name the child today, I would have loved to have known Catherine. She would have been 19 in July of this year. I will miss her all of the days of my life. When I think of how many children I have, I think of five. Always. There's an empty place at the dinner table. There's a diamond in the middle of my children's ring -- saved for her. My children all know about the sibling that they will meet in Heaven. I am walking for the Catherines who need to be heard. I'm walking for those like myself who loved and wanted their babies but felt they were trapped and scared. If I can help just ONE person who is considering abortion to turn around and do the right thing -- have that baby, please -- then the death of my dear baby, and the years of suffering will NOT be in vain.

And for those who have aborted their child, PLEASE, know that there is help. There is forgiveness and love from the Savior. He is there to heal your broken heart and He is NOT out to destroy you for what you have done. He is near the brokenhearted and He wants you to live a full life in Him. Jesus died on the cross to save us from ALL of our sins -- including abortion. There is no one sin greater than another in God's eyes. You don't need to live in the shadows, anymore. Please walk in the light of His forgiveness and grace. And know that your sister in Christ is praying for you and loves you. It's time to take off the mask and walk in freedom.

I was a teenage Jesus Freak

2010-02-27T08:10:00.000-08:00

Recently, I was informed by a person old enough to be my son that I basically had no clue about speaking seriously into another younger person's life. He didn't understand why I didn't just laugh off this person's statement, which to me, sounded dire. He basically said to me that until I lived on the edge of wanting to end it all, instead of just finding a friend dead of suicide, that I really didn't know anything about what the younger generation goes through.

He's right in some respects. I have no idea what it is like to be bombarded with terms such as "sexting" and "reality TV," at a young age, where the goal to life is not to live a good life, but rather to be "unique" and "famous" -- beyond all costs. People aren't satisfied to have 15 minutes of fame, they want to milk their fame for the craziest things, like acting in degrading fashion on shows such as "Jersey Shore" or having a ton of children in "Jon & Kate plus 8."

But I digress. Anyone who knew me in high school could probably attest to the fact that I was a "nice" girl. A "smart" girl. Possibly a "stuck up" girl. A "goofy girl." Life for me at high school was like a dark tunnel where I never saw a light shining at the end. I got books smacked out of my hands, clothes stolen at gym class, hit on the back of the head by someone walking by, tripped at gym class just when I was about to finish running a mile. I got called some horrible names associated with my maiden name; I won't say what the name was, but it has to do with defecation. I remember the last day at Sophomore year of high school, one boy in particular, "David B." stated in German class: "Hey, everybody, I went by Becky's house and BOY, I saw FUMES coming out of their house, it SMELLED so BAD!" Hot tears stung my eyes, but I was NEVER going to let ANYONE at that school see me cry. Never, I vowed. I'd tell a teacher I had a bad headache and run as quickly to the nurses' office as I could. She always gave me a room in which to sob my heart out. I was not allowed to cry at home, as that was a sign of weakness to my mother, and would set her off.

I went home that day and said to my mother, "Either find a way for me to go to college a year early, or I promise you I will QUIT school. I CANNOT stand another day there." I seriously thought death would have been better than to finish my senior year at that place, although I knew I could never kill myself, as that would be a one-way trip to hell for me. All good Lutheran girls and boys KNEW that. But I NEEDED to see the light at the end of that tunnel; I needed SOMETHING for which I could look forward.

Why would anyone behave in such a manner to another human being? I honestly don't know. To this day, if I see someone being bullied, or if I perceive that someone else is picking needlessly on someone else, I get very upset and want to do something to help.

At the time, I was considered a Christian. And I was the best Christian I could be at that time. I had someone hit me once at school, and say to me, "Go on, little Christian girl, FIGHT ME BACK." I didn't. I was constantly reminded that I had a bigger future ahead if I could keep my head. When I took off after the girls who tripped me on the track (with murderous thoughts in my brain towards those girls, I painfully admit), the gym teacher took off running after me, caught me in the middle of the football field and held me back from going after them. She kept telling me, "You'll BE somebody someday! You'll BE somebody someday!" That was the first time I cried out in public.

I took God very seriously. I used to have some deep discussions with one girl in particular, Roberta, about God and heaven and both of us becoming nuns, even though I was a Lutheran! I loved God. I just didn't know why He kept setting me up for torture at school and at home. I'd see all of these people who made fun of me able to enjoy part-time jobs, go out on dates, and just hang out with friends; I was only allowed to hang out with my brothers and sister. If I went to a friend's house, or wanted to do something extra-curricular, I had to have a sibling with me. I could not just be me. I didn't even know who I was, except a Christian and a Beatle fanatic.

And being a Christian at that time was no fun. I got made fun of every single day. Even some of the teachers mocked me, which was harder for me to take. I didn't get it. People didn't like my family, I guess, so they automatically didn't like me. Everyone else had fun. Those girls who were allowed to wear make-up and making horrible fun of me were having a lot more fun than me, I thought. I stopped going to church, because I even got made fun of by some fellow kids there. Later on I would rebel in a big way, and found out ruefully that the "fun" my torturers seemed to be having wasn't fun at all, and almost led to my destruction (but I will cover that in another blog -- soon).

I remember some of the kids calling me "sister Rebecca" because I wrote in a school paper that I would not have sex just because everyone else was doing it. Someone broke into my file in my English class and somehow what I wrote got passed to practically everyone in the class, it seemed, because everyone knew what I wrote -- and got a good laugh out of it. Maybe it was because they all knew my paternal grandmother's reputation as well as my father's, I don't know, but they all thought it was a hoot. I even had to endure one boy looking at me in homeroom, saying, "You want SEX, don't you Becky, you REALLY WANT IT, don't YOU?" I had another kid say to me, "Oh, you're so HOLY, aren't you? You won't have SEX because you're just SUCH a Christian! Haw, haw, haw! Oh, Sister Rebecca, can I KISS your RING?! Ugh, no! You're too dirty! Who'd EVER want to KISS YOU?!" Another run to the nurse's office for a good cry.

I remember thinking at the time that I was just God's little joke on humanity. What sort of impact would I EVER make? Then I felt so horrible one time when a tough girl came up to me and asked, "Hey, are you a Christian or something?"

I froze. I didn't want to fight anyone over Jesus. I loved God, and I was a Christian, but I was too frightened. I weakly replied, "Uh, I-I-I uh, I don't know...."

"Boy, I'm disappointed. I was sure that you were."

I suddenly felt like Peter when he denied Jesus. I broke out in a cold sweat and hollered behind her, "I DO... I DO believe in Jesus! I really DO!" By then, she flitted me off with her hand and had already walked away.

Even though I went on to fall away from Christ and later come back to Him, I was the best Christian I could be at that time in my life. However, I felt like a real failure for Him.

Later on in my life, I found that a few people who taunted me horrendously are now my brothers and sisters in Christ! Was I upset when I found that out? NO, to my initial surprise, and ultimate joy at my response to finding out that they are now Jesus' property. I am so happy to know that there are others who I always loved and thought dear to me who are serving the Lord. I am saddened by those who have not called yet called upon Jesus as their love. But I will continue to pray for them.

I've had a few people apologize to me for their behavior towards me in the past, and I've had a few who have apologized for their lack of standing up for me. I truly love them and hold no anger toward them, in spite of what has happened. And that's not me in action, there, loving people unconditionally. You see, when I was younger, I was going to be rich and famous at any cost just so I could go back to a reunion some day and show THEM. Only God, through the power of Jesus, can take your pain and sorrow and turn it to victory and joy. Only Jesus could take that time when I denied that I was a Christian, and then turn me into a living megaphone for Him!

I want to encourage you, teen and young adult who is facing persecution for whatever reason: HANG on! Stand strong in the glory and power of His might! Know that ALL things work together for good to those who are in Christ Jesus! There IS a light at the end of that proverbial tunnel, and that light is the LIGHT of Jesus Christ! You ARE making a difference! You may be that seed, that water, that ray of sunshine in someone else's life. Please dont' believe it that those people are having more fun than you are -- they are blinded by the lies of this world. I know it personally; I survived it. Don't grow weary of doing good! You, my dear young friend, can MAKE IT!!! If I did, ANYBODY can! God be with you today and always.

Turn Around... Turn Around

2010-02-20T07:06:00.000-08:00

The other day, it happened. I survived the day without one of my children adding a new spot or stain to my shirt. Surprisingly, the moment I dreamed of for so long had a bittersweet ring to it. The change is starting to occur.

Soon, I won't tell my daughter, "hold still, I know it stings, but I have to get the knots out of your hair."

In short order I won't tell my soon to be 11-year old, "How many times do I have to TELL you, I don't want to see your stinky old socks in my NICE FRONT ROOM?!"

Before I know it, I won't be reminding my four year old, "Ah-ah-ah, did you wash your hands after going potty?"

In the blink of an eye, I won't be tripping over toys in the hallway, or sitting on Buzz Lightyear toys that catch me unawares (which honestly said, "I have a laser and I'm NOT afraid to use it," when I did sit on that silly toy).

No more chocolate covered kisses, no more "look, Mommy, look at me!", no more giggles over silly sayings and sing songs in the car or Bible stories before bedtime.

No more making the rounds at night, kissing each and every one of them with heartfelt "I love you's."

No more listening to in-depth, insessant stories and facts about your children's favorite subjects.

No more hearing, "I love you, Mommy; you're the BEST and most beautiful Mommy in the World!"

How many times have we told our children, "Oh, will you grow up?" Well, they DO just that, without any encouragement from us; it all happens naturally.

Turn around, turn around, turn around and they're young adults, going out of the door, and having babes of their own.

I know, you may be asking, "Well, gee, you have a four year old, you still have LOTS of time!"

No, I don't. You see, it seems like only yesterday that my 17-year old was wrapping his tiny arms around me, saying, "I love you FOREVER, Mommy!" It seems like a lifetime ago that I cheered on my now 21-year old step-son at a baseball game when he was ten, or skated hand in hand with his now 18-year old brother, singing "I Want It That Way" (I STILL cannot hear that song without a tear welling up in my eyes at that moment in time). Now... well, it's all memories. Memories that I pray never get erased by age.

Mercy, my house is going to be TOO quiet when my children eventually leave the nest!

So, I need to treasure every moment, hold onto it and cherish every single second with those remaining pearls I know as my children. Make sure to create mental snapshots of those sweet memories along this journey of life. Today, I'm going to go get a free pretzel with the children. I'm going to make a more concerted effort to enjoy what time I do have with my beauties. I can attest that it all goes by so very quickly, and then someday, you must say goodbye to the ones you love. Cherish it, with all your heart. So your child is acting in an irritating factor? Cherish those moments, too, while directing them back on course the best way you can.

Just before I took to this blog, I glanced out of the window. There was my wonderful husband, walking along. Directly behind him, followed my beautifully handsome son, smiling as he tried to match my husband's pace, step by step. A tear came to my eye as I silently prayed, "May you walk in the way of your father, my sweet boy, and may you grow strong in the Lord, now and forever."

My Dad prayed with me today....

2010-01-18T12:33:00.000-08:00

The first person I remember holding such an emotion as love towards was my father. I remember being a tiny little thing, standing at the back door, waving good-bye to my father as he took off in the car to go to work. Then, as soon as I saw him take off, I rushed as quickly to the front door as I could. That huge front door always caused me considerable trouble to open, as we always opened it with an old-fashioned skeleton key.

I'd yank at the huge, imposing door, and scream for my mother to open the door, because Daddy had to see me wave good-bye to him from the front door, as well. He must have been made aware of the herculean effort on my part to wave good-bye to him from both doors, because even though we lived on the corner of a road and an alley, and all he had to do was just drive a few hundred feet to turn left onto Main Street, I always seemed to beat him to door. I figured the faster I'd wave my hand, the more my Dad would know I loved him; sometimes I waved my hand so fast and hard, I was sure it was going to fly off!

It was the same thing with apples. My father would not be allowed to eat a single apple until I had taken it, breathed on it, and shined up that apple so bright that you honestly could see your face looking back at it. The shinier that apple, the more my daddy would know that I loved him. I seriously thought that if anyone in this world needed to know that someone loved him unconditionally, then, I was going to show that I loved him unconditionally, forever and ever.

There was always a vulnerability and sadness to my father. You see, I don't think he was ever truly accepted as a younger man. He happened to live in a small town, one of the sons of the town -- for lack of better word -- tramp. My paternal grandmother could put the lady at the well to shame in her actions towards the opposite sex. In a small town, people don't always look at a person for themselves; they judge you for your father and mother, your grandparents, etc. That does something to a person. He did not trust women, and refused to allow my mother to work outside of the home. It didn't stop him from having a roaming eye of his own; and even though my father didn't lose his temper that much, when he did, it was more than terrifying. I remember hiding behind the couch on more than one occasion. But again, I knew he was dealing with demons of his own that raged inside of him.

On the positive, my Dad taught me how to have fun. He was the one who would get out in the yard and play football with us -- or he'd make up his own games for us to play. He created stilts for each of us children -- the higher he'd get them, the better we'd like it. He was the king of snow fort making. I loved being on his team whenever we'd play anything. He looked just like -- and was as strong as -- Superman, to me. He'd go to the grocery store and "accidentally" lose the list. We'd beg Dad for Fudgcicles, and he'd buy a huge box of them. Then he'd pronounce, "Well, you know what we need to go along with Fudgcicles, don't you? Potato chips!" That would start a chain reaction of what all we "needed" to round out Dad's list of groceries. We'd arrive back home, junk food galore filling up the bags; poor Mom would get red in the face and yell, "Didn't you get ANYTHING of SUBSTANCE?!"

There are a few things Dad wouldn't do: he wouldn't got to church with us unless it was a super-special occasion, he didn't read the Bible with us, and he didn't pray. He also never said that he loved us until I was 16 years old; funny, that didn't matter as much to me, because I just KNEW that my Daddy loved me. I did ache to hear the Bible being read by our parents, and I longed to pray with my Dad. My mom prayed with us when there was big trouble afoot, but to pray just to speak with God was not something we did.

Today changed all of that. Today while my dad was in a hospital bed, I asked to pray with him. He did not want to, and hemmed and hawed about it. He's a private man, deep down, and becomes shy at the strangest moments. I guess it's like how I was a disc jockey and singer, yet still become very embarrassed if attention is drawn to me at a restaurant (i.e. birthdays are never happy for me when those people in the restaurant come up to me and sing those silly songs).

At any rate, I felt a need to pray with him before, but he gently rebuffed me. Last night, I felt strongly that I needed to pray with my father. I could feel his fear -- an emotion I never associated with my father -- when I prayed for him in the comfort of my home. Yes, I found out, he has been very anxious lately. So, today when I asked him, he stated that he couldn't pray out loud because he was very exhausted from his rehab session.

"That's okay, Poppa (ever since I've watched "Fiddler on the Roof" I've called my father "Poppa" quite often, as as I cannot sit through a showing of that movie without thinking of my aged father when I see the loving, bearded, handsome, hard-working, long-suffering Tevya). At this moment, I'm stronger. And like the geese, I'm going to call out and ask God to help until you're strong enough, okay?"

He acquiesced. I prayed and asked God to hold my father in the night. I asked my heavenly Father to remind my earthly father that He hasn't given us a spirit of fear, but a spirit of power, love, and a sound mind, and that we do not need to be anxious for anything. I asked for God to give my dad a peace that surpasses all understanding that will guard his heart and mind. And I thanked my heavenly Daddy for giving me the desire of my heart to pray with my Dad. Dad was choked up by the time we said, "Amen." I was teary-eyed, as well. I know that he knows I love him beyond measure. And no matter what tomorrow may bring, I will hold in my heart forever the wonderful memory that my Dad prayed with me today.

What's that noise?

2010-01-07T07:23:00.000-08:00

If you read my blog or if you know me personally, then you know my father has been facing big health struggles. He has been touch and go on many occasion. Well, after the latest bout of trouble, where he was encountering bowel obstruction issues, I went to my friends -- and again -- asked for prayer. The past several months seem to be me squawking for prayer. At least, that's what it seemed like to me, when I allowed myself to hear that little voice in my head that said, "Do you know what your friends do every time you ask for prayer for the latest thing going on in your life? They inwardly GROAN; that's what they do. Give it a break, already, you needy thing!"

Well, instead of recognizing it for what it is, I apologized to everyone for asking for prayer yet AGAIN. I truly felt badly about it. I really thought I was bothering people. Then, another friend asked for prayer for HER father, and I got on it right away. I find that when someone asks me to pray, I consider it an honor to be able to intercede before our heavenly Father. That still didn't convince me that I wasn't a bother to someone else, though.

Today is when it hit me. You see, I love geese. I'm fascinated with their migratory patterns, the way they communicate with each other, their formation as they fly. And there they were flying over head -- a massive amount of geese. Let's say I heard them before I saw them. Boy, are they loud! But boy, do they know how to communicate! While flying in their patterns, they are always communicating. They are constantly watching out for the weaker geese. They fly in the pattern they do so that the strongest are flying at the front, breaking the force of the wind for their comrades. The weakest and the oldest fly in the rear, where the wind resistance is least. As the geese in the front get tired, they communicate their needs and switch off with other geese who are more rested up. It is completely fascinating, and God spoke to me in the midst of remembering the geese.

In our journey through life, we cannot forsake the assembly of other believers. We need each other; we are not islands unto ourselves. God created us for relationship -- with Him and with others. The way that the enemy works on us is to isolate us, make us feel we are alone. We are NOT alone, especially if we make our requests known. We NEED to communicate our wants and desires through prayer, and we NEED to ask others to pray as well.

In my spiritual life, there are times when I have been extremely strong. I have witnessed and been part of awesome healings, deliverances and the like. But recently, I've become an injured goose. I need to rest back and let others lead and do some of the heavy spiritual work. There are times I'm strong enough to go back into the fray and lead. There's so much we can learn from the geese.

Christians need to be more like geese. Instead of smiling that fake plastered smile when someone in the faith asks how you are and saying, "I'm blessed beyond stressed" (which is a LIE), let your requests be known. Now, I'm not saying to be like Eeyore; what I'm saying is, we NEED to lift each other up. If you're down this morning, CALL SOMEONE in the faith that you know and ask them to pray for you. It's our jobs as Christians to suffer with our brothers and sisters when they're suffering, and to rejoice with them when they rejoice.

Besides, the prayers of the saints -- all of our prayers -- become sweet-smelling incense in heaven. I know -- I read Revelation recently to the children out of their children's Bible. We need to stop looking at prayer as a chore and look at it as beautiful perfume in the nostrils of our God and Savior. And it makes us a little more loving and caring of our brothers and sisters in the Lord -- and could possibly be the thing that turns the heart of our unbelieving friends, relatives and enemies towards the loving embrace of Jesus.

What's that noise? Just the sweet sound of prayer, that's all. May we lean upon You, today and every day, every hour, my Lord.

Happy New Year? Oh Me of Little Faith!

2009-12-31T23:48:00.000-08:00

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!

2009-12-17T21:35:00.000-08:00

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

2009-11-05T22:37:00.000-08:00

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

2009-08-10T10:05:00.000-07:00

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

2009-08-01T21:35:00.000-07:00

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?

2009-07-24T20:56:00.000-07:00

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...

2009-07-06T18:05:00.000-07:00

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

2009-06-27T18:25:00.000-07:00

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?

2009-06-20T17:28:00.000-07:00

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?

2009-05-24T14:40:00.000-07:00

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!

2009-04-27T08:36:00.000-07:00

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....

2009-04-06T16:30:00.000-07:00

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

2009-04-03T20:07:00.000-07:00

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

2009-03-29T20:07:00.000-07:00

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...

2009-03-24T10:29:00.000-07:00

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

2009-03-19T19:57:00.001-07:00

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?

2009-03-10T08:54:00.000-07:00

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?!

2009-03-09T20:19:00.000-07:00

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

2009-03-05T20:42:00.000-08:00

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

2009-02-28T16:51:00.000-08:00

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?

2009-02-24T10:17:00.000-08:00

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

2009-02-18T13:51:00.000-08:00

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

2009-02-11T19:06:00.000-08:00

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...

2009-02-09T20:18:00.001-08:00

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

2009-02-06T13:12:00.000-08:00

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

2009-02-01T17:38:00.001-08:00

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!

Facebook and me

2009-01-26T17:35:00.001-08:00

A few weeks ago, I was sent an invitation to join Facebook. I put it off, just as I put off writing my own blog, simply because I sometimes get afraid of doing something new.

After yet another invite, and some personal persuasion from my dear friend Marie, I decided to give Facebook a go.

There I was being asked questions about where I went to school, college, etc., so that I could re-connect with my old friends. I sat and thought... if I really wanted to reconnect with anyone from high school, who would I want to hear from the most? I figured I'd want to hear from Cynthia, Roberta, Kenny, Jill, Greg, and Dee-Dee the most. Three out of six ain't bad! It has been thrilling to catch up with my old friends, and it has warmed my heart greatly to find out what they have been up to for the past 25 years.

In addition, there are some who have asked to be my friend; that thought sometimes brings tears to my eyes, as I always felt like I didn't quite fit in, almost like a fish out of water. I wasn't permitted to do most of the fun things that my classmates were allowed to do, and it gave the appearance that I was stuck up to some. After I goofed off too much in 7th grade chorus, and I got in trouble for it, it was considered by my parents that I had had my chance at chorus, and blew it by my actions. So, I admired and yearned to be a member of chorus for the rest of my high school days.

Unfortunately, I was not a perfect person, but I felt I had to be perfect to be accepted. What a lie from the enemy! He knows that we will fail in our endeavors, and then will beat us up for it -- and then will give us the stick with which to beat ourselves further! Fear of failure and lack of perfection can make for lonely bedfellows, and that's just the way the enemy likes to see us, whether we're Christians or not -- feeling like lonely failures who are so far from perfect that we wonder if we can ever be looked upon with loving kindness from the King.

I feel God has allowed me to get on Facebook to show me the loving face of home. That's the great thing about reconnections and second chances... they remind us of how our wonderful Father gives us second, third, fourth, and more chances to be more like Him, while reconnecting us to His wonderful embrace and loving family!

(By the way, I'm the girl in the pink vest, making the goofy face... some things never change!)

Who will be the next Elijah?

2009-01-24T08:18:00.000-08:00

Let me tell you a little story. There once was a girl, a college girl. She was full of hopes, dreams and visions for her future. She was elated when she got accepted into the college of her dreams, and set forth upon her goal.

Whilst in college, she met him. He was tall, dark and the most beautiful man she felt she had laid her eyes upon. To her delight, he seemed to reciprocate her feelings, and they began a relationship. She had it all: a budding college career that would lead to great discoveries, a man at her side, and a baby on the way.

What?! When did that happen? How did it happen? Well, she knew how it happened, but she really didn't think it would happen. This was the early 1960's! Even though times were changing, they still hadn't changed that much! Not everyone would understand her relationship with a black man, for one. She was unmarried, pregnant, and had so many dreams for her future. A child really wasn't one of those plans at this present time. Maybe down the road, but definitely not now! And it's not like she could "get rid" of it -- Roe vs. Wade wasn't implemented - yet. Besides, she heard about those "back-alley" abortions -- some actually didn't make it out alive, and some couldn't have children afterwards.

Her boyfriend agreed that they must get married, of course -- but little did she know that he was married, himself, with a family of his own in his home country.

Her parents were unhappy, no doubt, but supportive. She would go to school, and the grandparents would take care of the child whenever she couldn't. This young mother got to live out her dreams, even with a child conceived out of wedlock.

Now, in today's world, a college girl who gets pregnant to a married man would be told of one option -- have an abortion. After all, you have a full and complete life ahead of you, and you really can't take care of a child at this juncture! What about your parents; do you really want to place this burden on them? And be sure to know that you will probably live at below poverty level, because you won't be able to get the education you need. Besides, you will always be able to have children later.

And so, many young, frightened ladies make the wrong choice and abort the baby, only to suffer mentally, physically and more. They will actually mourn that child until the day they die. They will tend to fall into worse relationships, abuse themselves, and many cannot stand to hear the sounds of any type of vacuum or suction, as many abortions are performed while these girls are awake. Many will attempt suicide at some point. Every time something bad happens, they will tend to look back on that abortion, and ask themselves if that's the reason why they're experiencing that hardship.

And you know what? Women STILL die getting abortions, and they STILL have problems with future childbirths; some even become sterile. Not much has changed, except that abortion is big business -- and only going to get bigger, now that the lid has been taken off of stem-cell research.

And it appears that now our tax dollars are once more going to fund abortions -- whether we believe that abortion is okay or not.

Oh, yeah, let's get back to that story... at any rate, this young woman gives birth, and names her child, Barak Hussein Obama. This same person, who could have been aborted if he had been conceived only ten or 11 years later, touts abortion as something he'd like his own daughters to consider if they'd find themselves in a position such as that occurred to his mother!

It utterly blows my mind.

I will still pray for Obama, that God REALLY shakes his heart to the core, to allow the Alpha and Omega to be heard by Obama. My question is, who will be the next Elijah, the one to go to the leader of his day and say, "Thus saith the Lord"? Who will be brave? I've seen the conservative Christian actually shrinking into a frightened ball, afraid to say something amiss about our new president. What if we get backlash and lose our rights? Has anyone noticed -- they're already getting chipped away from us, little by little. We have nothing to lose and ALL to gain for the cause of Christ! Who will stand and deliver the message of the Lord? Who will face the Ahabs and Jezebels of today? If we take a stand for Christ, He will take a stand for us.

May this be our prayer in these perilous times: if it be Your will, send me, O Lord.

They Sometimes Kill their Wounded

2009-01-21T12:14:00.000-08:00

That's quite the title to today's blog, I realize. If I offend, I'm sorry,,, but then again, I'm not.

A few months back, I read on a homeschooling site that Ray Boltz left his wife, and declared he was a homosexual. A person on that homeschooling site responded, "Well, looks like I'll be burning HIS tapes and videos!"

You will never know how grieved in the spirit I was to hear of Ray Boltz' decision. You will never know how much more grieved I was in the spirit to read what that person said regarding throwing away his tapes and cd's. Here is a brother who has created some of the most beautiful songs of the modern Christian world, and we're saying, "Let's burn him."

Don't get me wrong; when I read my Bible, it has specific things to say about homosexuality -- and it sure doesn't match with what the world wants us to believe. I tend to believe the Bible -- lock, stock and barrel.

I really, honestly feel that we as a Christian family should be COMPELLED to pray for a brother or sister who has fallen, or who has stumbled. I know that it also says if they don't turn away from their ways to cut off ties. But then, it also says if they repent, that we are to open our arms to them. Ever since I heard about Ray, I have been praying that he actually see that even if there is temptation, that he has not fallen so far from God's grace that God cannot reach him where he is and restore him.

Then, I read about another brother in Christ -- Willie Aames. He's been known as Bibleman. I had been led to pray for him for awhile, and didn't know why. I read why -- I don't need to air anything, but to only say that he's hit some snags in the road and needs prayer, prayer, and more prayer. His wife and daughter need to be held and embraced by the church. What I'm afraid of is that the same type of people who said they were going to burn Ray Boltz's tapes will have the same attitude towards Willie as they did towards Ray. Willie is not a homosexual; he's just been hit by a different ploy of the enemy.

How many of us have fallen? The difference between the regular Christian and those like Ray Boltz and Willie Aames is that they are actually able to be reported on in the news -- our actions and slip-ups aren't blared in the news for all to see.

How many of us can fervently pray for the restoration of these brothers and sisters in the faith? It's time we as Christians get off of our pity pots when someone falls and bursts our spiritual bubble. No -- this is the time that we must strap on our spiritual armor even tighter, and pray for folks like Ray and Willie. It's when we should be crying out for God's hedge of protection to shield and protect Ray's now ex-wife and his children, as well as Maylo (Willie's wife), their daughter and his son. We should pray for them as though they are members of our own family, because, after all, that is exactly what they ARE -- members of our family through Christ. We must pray for them to come home, instead of spiritually killing them off.

Friends

2009-01-12T20:07:00.000-08:00

I used to get phone calls from a certain person. I'd see her number come up on the caller ID, and inwardly groan... I know she never wanted to talk to me just to say, "hey", she'd only call when she wanted something. It got to the point that when she'd call, I'd say, "Hello, ___, what do you need?" When I finally said that I wouldn't fulfill a request that I knew would not honor God, she stopped calling.

I have some people who call me just to talk. Sometimes they need me to fulfill a request; other times, they call just to shoot the breeze. It's the same for me with them. Sometimes I need to talk things out that are bothering me; other times I just need to hear their friendly voices. I love to laugh with my friends! And my bestest buddies, Becky, Marie, and Tammy -- and the newly acquired friend, Sue -- are a pleasure to talk to. I wish I would be able to talk to a few others more often, like the beautiful Robin. I look forward to talking to them, no matter the occasion. In good times we share laughs, in bad times we share tears, and prayers.

I started out writing this particular blog entry in honor of my friends. As I got to the second paragraph, it hit me... are we the kind of friend to God who only calls on Him in times of emergency... or are we the friends that God looks forward to hearing from, no matter what the occasion? Wow... Lord, please forgive me for the times I forget to "call" (pray) just to say, "Hi."

So Begins the Journey towards that Highway called "normal"

2009-01-10T19:26:00.000-08:00

It is said that the journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is a road I never thought I'd land upon. It's one that, with the help of a Christian psychologist, I'm planning on exiting it and traveling the highway back to normal.

I was told that those who experience Post Traumatic Stress Disorder actually experience a change in the brain. Certain chemicals in the brain become askew. That's why a person becomes hyper vigilant, easily agitated, emotional, bouts of anger, nightmares... so many other symptoms that I've been experiencing since that trauma hit me. Many times it's treated with talking things through and medications. I asked not to take medications, because I've read about the side effects -- they seem as bad as this disorder. However, the therapist did say I needed to go to the health food store and get some things like multi-vitamins, Omega-3, Gaba, and 5-HTP.

I've actually been able to sleep without dreaming about the events of that night. The therapist also is having me write down things from the past that have been traumatic. That has been hard to do; there are quite a few things that I've survived, and I've had to walk away from it a few times while writing things down. BUT -- I know that this will help me -- and hopefully be a chance to help others if I write this stuff down and do what the doctor says.

I'm not saying that God was not able to heal me of the anguish that came with the discovery of someone who committed suicide -- He's putting me in touch with others that are His followers who have had training to help in cases that seem too hard to handle, so that total healing can come to pass. It says in the Word to make your requests known -- my request was that someone help me get through this. God is true to His word.

Why am I writing this right now on my blog? If just one person reads this who thinks they're alone and that God isn't there to help them, I'm here to say, you're not alone -- we can make it through the trauma. If you've experienced something horrendous and you feel as though you can't make it to tomorrow, please, I urge you -- get help. We can make it -- we must make it.

"Forgiven"

2009-01-08T13:34:00.000-08:00

This week at the library to which we go as part of a library club is having a "Cancelling of the Library Fines" week.

I'm ashamed to say, I had misplaced a video tape of "It Happened One Night" (starring Clark Gable and Claudette Cobert), and so it became overdue. However, I was told not to worry, that the fees were going to be waived! I stood at the desk, watching the librarian do her stuff, as she typed this and that on her keyboard to eliminate those fees. Then, she sighed and said one word: "Forgiven."

Forgiven! Do you know how wonderful that word sounds: forgiven? I made a mistake; therefore, I owed a debt for that error. But this week was a time for forgiveness of that debt, and the knowledge that I didn't have a huge fine rearing its proverbial head at me was a nice release.

On the way home, I pondered how we've all made horrendous mistakes in life -- much worse than a misplaced videotape. Heaven knows I've made more than my fair share of mistakes. But the amazing thing is that we don't need to rely on a special week of the year to attain forgiveness -- we can go to the King of Kings and Lord of Lords to ask for forgiveness. And when we do, He states: "As far as the east is from the west, I have cast your sins far from you, and they shall no longer be remembered." (Becky paraphrase)

Forgiveness -- provided at moment's notice by a loving Savior. What a wonderful sound!

There's No Need to Fear....

2009-01-04T19:08:00.000-08:00

Our church is having a week of prayer and supplication to the Lord. It seems like the enemy wants to strike at all areas of life, and wishes to instill fear in the hearts of all -- including the elect. I see it in the ministries, the talk of people. They are really afraid. Funny -- the Lord has told us over 365 times -- Do not be afraid.

I have to admit -- I was getting very afraid of a wide variety of things. Then on Saturday, I got sick. Who would think that getting a stomach virus was a blessing? But for me, it was. I got to spend some time in the Word, and talking with God. I was telling Him what I was afraid of, and I was shown in His Word why I am not supposed to fear. I will have to keep going back to that, and I know that God will direct my way.

--------------

I was playing a game of "Do You Know" with my children tonight, when I asked my daughter a question -- that's almost like Uno, but when you change a color, you ask someone a Bible trivia question. If they answer correctly, play continues in the color you chose. If they answer incorrectly, they pick up two cards.

At any rate. I asked her, "Who did Pilate release instead of Jesus?" She looked at me, paused and said, "Ummm, some guy?"

Needless to say, she drew two and learned how to say "Barabas."

Happy New Year - and don't say thank you in a foreign tongue unless you know who you're talking to

2008-12-31T20:56:00.000-08:00

Welcome to 2009! My eldest is beginning his first job this new year, Robbie Knevil is about to make some kind of jump over a volcano and my children actually stayed up to say, "Happy New Year." It's kind of like when I turned 30 -- I looked in the mirror, said, "Oh, well, the face looks the same as it did yesterday when I was 29."

I can't help but feel a little hopeful for this new year, though. I don't know why, but I do. I feel this way twice a year...with the onslaught of a new year, and the beginning of a new school year. So, if you're planning a good year, may you place God first and foremost and may His plan come to pass for your life.

--------------
So, a few weeks ago my family and I went to the mall. In the food court, there's a Japanese place; a man who worked there was passing out chicken. My eldest is learning Japanese, so a few words have rubbed off on me, and I wanted to try out my Japanese. So, I said, "Thank you," in Japanese. The guy looked at me like I was crazy. So I repeated "Aragato." There was the look, again. I asked, "Did I say it right? Did I say 'thank you' right in Japanese?"

He looked me square in the face and replied in a broken accent, "I no Japanese, I Chinese."

I should have eaten crow instead of teriaki chicken.

I need help

2008-12-27T21:25:00.000-08:00

I need help. Right after I discovered the guy who committed suicide, I saw someone from the psychiatric field. I was in the midst of having wave upon wave upon wave of panic attacks the day after everything. He said the only thing that would help is time.

Time hasn't helped much. I have dreams where this person shows up, and I realize that he's not a living person anymore, and last night I told him to go away in my dream. Certain sounds will trigger what I saw, and it'll play -- uninvited -- in my head like a bad movie that won't go away. I can't stand driving down that road to the person's home -- especially at night, because it was night-time when all of this transpired -- it all plays back in my head.

Why am I just saying this out to no one in particular? My husband has the number for someone for me to call on Monday. I've got to call and talk, get help for this. The joy of the Lord used to be my strength. My gosh -- I cry over everything, anymore! Last week, my crock pot cracked, ruining my French onion soup at the church fellowship dinner, and I started sobbing! How embarrassing!

Why is this one incident getting to me like this? I've experience tons -- and I'm not kidding -- TONS of rotten stuff, lots of traumatic stuff throughout my whole life. My life would seem like bad fiction, and yet I've worked through it with the help of God. I need God to help me with this. I know He has been helping me. I just need more of His help in getting me through this.

I've lost a beloved aunt (the only aunts that I've loved like crazy are on my mother's side) to cancer this year, a mother-in-law, people who said they were friends and said they "loved me" only to turn around and stab me squarely in the back the first chance they got; that was only this year alone. I'm praying that the Lord Jesus will smile on my family this year and make this the year that will restore all that the locusts have eaten.

LIghts of Christmas

2008-12-17T18:20:00.000-08:00

If I had to choose which holiday is my favorite, normally I'd say "Resurrection Sunday", as that celebrates the Savior overcoming death and the grave, which gives us hope eternal.

But you know, Christmas could easily be a tie. I'm learning to stop worrying about the commercialism, am almost over the fact that the true birthday of our Savior was more likely in July or August and am actually enjoying Christmas, the day that Christians celebrate the day that God cared enough about the human race to enter it in the form of a baby. Immanuel -- God with us. How wonderful God is, and how loving!

I love the Christmas music. Last week we went to one library for a hand bell Christmas concert. Last night, we went to a Christmas concert featuring a dulcimer player. It was wonderful singing and hearing songs celebrating the Lord Jesus!

Following the concert, we went in search of Christmas lights. We ended up at an establishment that goes all out to decorate their home, chocked full of all sorts of tinkling, blinking Christmas lights. They have a U-shaped driveway that takes you along through this Christmas wonderland, and it ends with a donation bin. Donations go to local charities. The children absolutely love the lights, and I marvel at them, too.

When Christmas ends, I end up missing those multi-colored lights with emblazon the night sky. As I pondered this, the realization hit me: maybe those lights remind me of the Light of the world, who came to dispel the darkness. It's amazing how the birth of a baby over 2000 years ago would impact the lives of countless people through the ages. But then, any time God is involved, you can rest assured that even the smallest event in His scheme of things can become utterly amazing to us, our families, our country, and our world.

Light of the world, You stepped down into darkness, opened our eyes and let us see.

Action!

2008-12-11T17:01:00.000-08:00

So I read in the news today where Hillary Rodham Clinton is not going to be paid as highly as her predessor, Condoleeza Rice; however, it will be an increase from her previous salary as a senator. Then I read how much a senator gets paid -- over 169,000 dollars a year. Now, what griped my cookies is that these poor senators are getting a PAY RAISE next year -- they will get paid $174,000!!

One-hundred seventy-four thousand dollars per year, all paid for by folks like you and me.

How many of us make that type of money? How many of us have top of the line health care, vehicles and the like taken care of, etc., etc.

I called up my senators tonight. The one senator's voice mail was full; the other was ready for me to state my extreme displeasure.

I am looking at families living on only 30,000 dollars a year, expected to make it -- AND to pay still MORE taxes as we as a country bail out the banks, Wall Street and the auto industry.

This makes me angry. It should make America angry, as well. If we're going to be expected to tighten our budgets, it has to start in CONGRESS. How can we expect the senate to see if what Detroit does is on the up and up, when they pass themselves raises -- on the tax payers backs?! The battle cry in 1776 was "No taxation without representation!"

Funny -- I don't think the modern state of affairs at Congress is what our founding fathers were thinking about when they made that above statement.

PLEASE -- I urge you -- call, write, do what you can to let your Senators and Representatives know that they need to take a pay CUT, and NOT a pay raise in 2009! Or we will vote in others who WILL listen! And then, you need to tell all those on your e-mail lists, your address books, your rolodexes and urge others to do the same. Tell Congress that We the People have HAD ENOUGH! Now is the time to take action.

Let American Ingenuity Shine Once more...

2008-12-06T20:23:00.000-08:00

So the "Big 3" have made their second appearance at Congress, hats in hands, asking the American public for money, while it has been reported in news media that the average auto worker takes home almost 78 dollars an hour. First time they appeared, they arrived in private jets. Second time, we heard how they would only take home a dollar a year in pay, AND they arrived in hybrid cars. What is going to be done to change the situation? Make more hybrid cars! The hybrid cars are priced so high, that's it's not worth it -- you might as well buy the gas-eater, because you won't get your money's worth out of the hybrids. That's the way I've been understanding things.... I could be wrong.

I know this may sound gross as an idea (I say this because when I stated this in my vehicle, my teen-age son yelled, "EWW, that's GROSS!"), but why are we not looking at items that are considered waste products and try, instead to turn these products into sources of fuel? Take urine, for example... there are ions in urine that produce charges. Why are we not trying to figure out a safe way to utilize our own personal waste to operate our vehicles? Instead of telling our children, "Make sure you empty your bladder before we go," we could give them a big old bottle of water and tell them to hold it until we're on the road! Isn't there a way that any impurities could be burned off -- you know, in case someone has a sickness like AIDS or something like that -- by a vehicle running on urine power? Imagine the water that would be saved from not flushing this down our septic systems! Why is no one looking at solutions such as this? I assure you I would buy a car that ran on urine power!

I don't want the "same-old, same-old." America is a country known for inventing marvelous things that aided society. We are the land of the telegraph, the steamship, the Pony Express, the airplane, baseball and basketball, the telephone, the electric light; we're the land that actually discovered oil in the first place -- in Titusville, PENNSYLVANIA, of all places -- not a desert. When are we going to start putting our heads together and utilize that "good old American ingenuity" that we are known for, instead of holding our necks out and our mouths open for the government to feed us with our own tax money? Come on, America -- let's get rolling, again! Let's use this economic turmoil as a time to let the humble inventor to shine once again! I know we can do it. I pray we can do it.

Welcome to Christmas, 2008

2008-12-01T19:06:00.000-08:00

I've always wished to do certain things in my life... like hang-gliding, basking in the ocean, getting on stage and singing. Some things I've actually accomplished with my life, other things -- nah. The other day, I got the chance to participate in an activity that I never planned on -- nor ever plan on taking part in again -- Black Friday.

We have some very dear friends who travel hours on end to visit us for the Thanksgiving holiday. I proceed to make home-made ice cream, pumpkin and apple pies -- the works. And every year they have awakened early the next day to venture out into the various venues to find -- the BIG bargains.

I have never been all that interested in facing scores of people just to try to obtain that one item for a few bucks less than retail. However, my hard-to-buy-for teenage son noticed an ad in the paper and said, "Hey, Mom -- you know how I said I only wanted money? Well, if I had the money, I'd buy this:" it was one of those rocking seats that allow you to hook up with a sound system. It was being offered at a savings of fifty dollars. I decided to go.

My husband knows I'm a night-owl; I HATE rising super early. He offered to go to the store to pick up this item; I was planning on picking up some hamburger, and possibly a gift for him, so I said that I'd go. So, I set the clock for 4:15 am, and went to bed.

In my Pollyanna-ish frame of mind that I sometimes possess, I imagined that I would arrive at 5:00, breeze through the store, get the present for my son, along with the hamburger, milk, and maybe a present for my hubby, and be out of there by 5:30. Au contraire!

A wise woman would have turned tail and run. I should have known when I saw the loaded parking lot. I never knew so many people lived in our town! The place was packed; it reminded me of those old science movies from school with those red blood cells travelling through the arteries -- only they all moved quicker than those in this store.

It took me ten minutes to move ten feet towards the electronics -- my initial destination. Then I heard that there were items in the produce section of the store. I asked a worker where the chairs could be found -- yep, you guessed it -- in the produce section. It took me about five minutes to back up to hit the main aisle. Scads of people were milling around, picking up this item and that, shoving them into already over-flowing shopping carts. I almost got caught up in the frenzy, myself, and thought, "Oh, I've GOT to go over there to see what they're all looking at!" Then, sanity was restored to my mind as I remembered that I was only in the store for a few items.

Then, I saw it -- the prize that I was going to bestow upon my son for Christmas. I made my way past a woman who had three of those chairs shoved into her shopping cart. I stopped at the frozen foods, and watched people pick up items that they otherwise would not even give a second glance, but because they had "WHILE SUPPLIES LAST" splashed in front of them, they got snatched up like precious treasures. As long as I stayed to the outside perimeter of the store, I could travel rather quickly. When I finally entered back into the fray to try to find the proper line in which to pay for my few items, one person bashed their cart into me without a simple, "Excuse me." However, most people were friendly enough, and some nice conversations were struck up with a few.

I noticed an item on sale that my younger boy mentioned, and encountered a person who liked the price, but had no idea what the item was. It was an airplane and a small, remote-controlled helicopter pack. She looked as though she were buying all things relating to grandchildren; she asked me while holding the gift pack, "What do you think this does?"

As I picked up one, myself, I looked at the outside box, where it said, "Fly indoors". I pointed to that, and said to the lady, "Well, dear, I think this is the way that children can destroy the items in your house that they cannot otherwise reach."

She looked at the box, said, "Hmmm," and gingerly put the box back on the display.

I made it back home -- finally -- sometime around 6:45 (after I made a stop to Sears -- didn't know what to get him there, either), changed back into my night clothes and said, "I will NEVER do that, again!"

"I warned you," my husband replied, "If it were me, I would have turned around and walked out of the store."

"And that's why I went, instead," I retorted, "because I wouldn't give up so easy when it comes to something like this for the children."

No sooner did I get to finally re-shut my eyes, my teenager came into the room, and said, "Uh, Mom, are you going to the store? Oh, never mind." He was mumbling about how he should have set the alarm and awakened me, himself. I just smiled.

Until Saturday. My son, daughter and I went into the store, and saw the same item that I went through the "shadow of the valley of death" to buy. There, taped onto one of the boxes, was a tag: "Special price -- $30.00."

My son just smiled.

Geography can "bee" fun!

2008-11-18T16:31:00.000-08:00

Today I was awakened by my second-born who squealed, "Today's the Geography Bee!"

National Geographic hosts a "Geography Bee" that is a nation-wide thing. A homeschool group to which I belong was holding a division of the bee. Whoever wins the local bee's compete against each other in regionals, then it goes to state, then to nationals.

This was my son's first year doing this, so I wasn't expecting the sun, moon, and stars; I only wanted him to come away with the knowledge that he tried his best.

It was funny to hear in the beginning of the "Bee" when the children found out they got an answer right: "YEAH!" "WOO-HOO!" As the bee progressed to harder material, the former cheers turned to "Oh, man!" And, my poor son's face was turning redder and redder, which is what happens when he gets frustrated.

He made it to the semi-finals, where the questions dealt with nothing that he's gone over, yet. From where I was sitting, I saw the tears starting to fill his eyes. I noticed one thing, though; he did not give up trying to answer the questions, even though he didn't have the answers.

I walked over and kissed the back of his head. His eyes were on the prize of the Wal-Mart gift card offered to the first, second, and third place winners, but he realized that dream was about to be shattered as they announced who would go on to the finals.

He smiled, leaned into me and shed some tears. I had him look me square into my eyes, and I told him, "Honey, I want to say that I've never been prouder of you than I am right this moment. You came into this, you gave it your best, and you never gave up. In this life, you'll not always get first prize, but if you try your best, then you've succeeded."

He smiled at me, gave me a kiss on my cheek, then gave me a huge hug. This was one of the best days of our lives together.

Coming Out

2008-11-17T10:27:00.000-08:00

In this time when Proposition 8 made it so that homosexuals cannot be married and all of these celebs are coming out, as well as to show and vent their displeasure at the passage to ban gay marriages, I felt the need to come out myself and say the following: I'm STRAIGHT and PROUD of it!

I just wish to ask the Christian community -- just when did it become taboo to stand up for Christ? When did we start acting in an apologetic fashion for speaking the truth found only in the Word?

You know, when I was younger, I could have really cared less if I were popular or not. I dressed the way I felt comfortable, and even though it hurt to be made fun of, I took solace in knowing who I was.

As I've been a pastor's wife, I've noticed that I've started caring more and more and more about what other people think. After all, if the children aren't angels, or if I don't act like the "perfect" preacher's wife, then someone may leave the church, and it'll be all my fault! In my home school group, I was starting to worry about every little thing that someone was saying, because after all, they may leave the group.

I think we as Christians need to stop getting offended at every little thing, and start binding together to fight the big things! When are we going to stand up together and cry out for the unborn? When are we as Christians going to stand up together and fight for families the way that God ordained them? When are we as Christians going to stand up together and fight for the cause of Christ -- period?

God is coming under attack as never before in my recollection. Now I know, God can stand up quite well for Himself. But, Jesus said that if we confess and believe in Him, then He will confess us before the Father. There are signs on buses in Washington, DC, asking, "Why believe in a god -- just be good for goodness' sake." Why aren't people realizing that goodness only comes from GOD, HIMSELF?

You know, if the world turns their back on me, I don't really give a flying fig leaf. I'm calling on the Christian community to take a stand. No more sitting on that proverbial fence. We NEED to somehow get involved, and stand up - yes, stand up for Jesus! We need to come out of our closets of fear, shame, guilt, shyness, and step out to fight for the only One worth living for: our Lord, Jesus Christ.

There's No Place Like Home

2008-11-14T19:48:00.000-08:00

Do you remember when Dorothy clicked her heels three times and repeated "There's no place like home" in "The Wizard of Oz" movie (actually, it only happened in the movie and not the book by L. Frank Baum -- there were SO many differences between the movie and the book, such as Dorothy's slippers were silver in the book, and ruby in the movie, but then I'm digressing)? That seemed to be the theme this week around our house.

My husband decided to trim some of the trees bordering our property so that they don't knock down our fence. They're evergreen trees, so as the children and I were dragging them away from my hubby, I got the brilliant idea that I'd have to make a wreath out of the evergreen branches. When I was younger, my mother, brothers, sister and I would walk into the woods on a Sunday -- the day that no hunting was allowed -- and collect branches for our wreaths and trimming for outside. We'd form wire hangers into circles, wrap newspaper around the wire, and then wrap the paper with yarn in which we'd insert the pieces of greenery, until the beautiful shape of a wreath would emerge. Every year Mom would say, "I'll never make wreaths again" -- and the next year we would do the same thing over again the next year.

Well, after littering the floor with evergreen and breaking out, I decided that may this would be my last year of making wreaths with the "real deal."

Then, the day after making the wreath, I went outside by myself. I was praying and surveying the lone maple tree out back, which lost the majority of its leaves, when I noticed the rake sitting nearby. Raking the leaves, a nice pile began to form. The interest of the children was formed and then overflowed outside to see what their mother was up to.

The children wished to jump straight-away into the leaves; I had another idea. I moved the pile, and formed two piles: one was situated at the bottom of the slide, while the other, larger pile formed the perfect landing spot for anyone who decided to jump from the swing. The children were delighted and had the time of their lives. I got out the ever-present camera and recorded the time they were spending in the leaves. Then, I smelled a unforgettable aroma; the smell of burning leaves. A neighbor was burning theirs, but it perfectly blended to remind me of days gone by, when I jumped in huge piles of leaves with my own siblings. There's no place like home.

It's Not about Me

2008-11-10T19:45:00.000-08:00

There's a book that has been sitting on my bathroom reading shelf, unopened, for a time. I was going to open it, but never truly did. To everything, however, there is a season. I needed something to read, and saw, "The Purpose Driven Life" by Pastor Rick Warren. So, I'm embarking upon a forty-day journey.

I got a notebook and my Bible and started reading. I liked the first day's reading; in a nutshell, this is what sums up what I've got to grasp and get a hold of: it's NOT about me -- BUT, it's ALL about God.

In the first day's reading, Rick Warren was talking about the Russian novelist, Andrei Bitov. Growing up in a communist country, Bitov never really gave God any thought -- until he became saddened with a sadness so deep it was incomprehensible while riding the subway. One phrase embedded itself in Bitov's mind: Without God life makes no sense. He emerged from the subway train, walked up the steps and into the light of day, as well as the true light of God's perfect will.

God is absolutely amazing!

-------------------------------

We've voted a president into office as a nation. Now, we are called as Christians to pray for our leaders and those in authority over us -- whether we agree with their political views or not. If you are a Christian, then I urge you -- I repeat -- I URGE you to pray that God turns the hearts of those in office to Him, in the name of Jesus, from your town mayors, to the Senate and members of Congress, to the President, to the Supreme Court. Instead of complaining, we need to pray for God's Divine Intervention.

I am reminded by the Word of God where the people said they wanted a change -- they didn't want the judges ruling over them, but rather a king. And God turned them over to their desires -- the people suffered for their choice, but God gives us all this wonderful gift called free will. He has given us all this wonderful gift called free will, and if we as a nation continually turn our backs on Him, then He will give us exactly what we asked for, as can be illustrated in Romans 1:20-32 (nkj):

20 For since the creation of the world His invisible attributes are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even His eternal power and Godhead, so that they are without excuse, 21 because, although they knew God, they did not glorify Him as God, nor were thankful, but became futile in their thoughts, and their foolish hearts were darkened. 22 Professing to be wise, they became fools, 23 and changed the glory of the incorruptible God into an image made like corruptible man--and birds and four-footed animals and creeping things. 24 Therefore God also gave them up to uncleanness, in the lusts of their hearts, to dishonor their bodies among themselves, 25 who exchanged the truth of God for the lie, and worshiped and served the creature rather than the Creator, who is blessed forever. Amen. 26 For this reason God gave them up to vile passions. For even their women exchanged the natural use for what is against nature. 27 Likewise also the men, leaving the natural use of the woman, burned in their lust for one another, men with men committing what is shameful, and receiving in themselves the penalty of their error which was due. 28 And even as they did not like to retain God in their knowledge, God gave them over to a debased mind, to do those things which are not fitting; 29 being filled with all unrighteousness, sexual immorality, wickedness, covetousness, maliciousness; full of envy, murder, strife, deceit, evil-mindedness; they are whisperers, 30 backbiters, haters of God, violent, proud, boasters, inventors of evil things, disobedient to parents, 31 undiscerning, untrustworthy, unloving, unforgiving, unmerciful; 32 who, knowing the righteous judgment of God, that those who practice such things are deserving of death, not only do the same but also approve of those who practice them.

May we fervently pray for our country and for the Lord's touch on this generation!

Lessons from the Lord

2008-11-09T16:18:00.000-08:00

I want to turn a page. The major thing I've been wondering is the perpetual "why?" See, when I was younger, we were dirt poor -- heck, the soil was richer than us! We were always in danger of losing our home. One winter, my father chopped every other step of the cellar just to get us some wood to burn in our little wood burner. Most people I grew up with didn't know this, nor the many other things about our home whilst growing up. We had to keep everything a secret. But, there was ONE THING that I learned in all of the hardships we endured while growing up: NEVER GIVE UP.

That's a valuable lesson to learn.

I asked God while showering, WHY did this guy from our church commit suicide? My brain cannot comprehend nor understand it. There are SO many places in the Bible where God says He will supply all our needs according to His riches in glory, that He will forgive us of ALL our transgressions... that He will be our shield and our buckler. His Word is full of SO many promises -- and He is not a man that He should lie.

Either you believe God's Word -- in its entirety -- or you don't.

The Lord let me hear in my mind the voice of Corrie Ten Boom (she appeared at the end of the movie, "The Hiding Place"): "There is no pit so deep, that God is not deeper still."

So I asked of the Lord, "Then why wasn't Jesus in the pit with this fellow?"

"I was," I felt in my spirit, "he just didn't believe I was there."

Then the Lord brought to my mind what happened the day after I discovered this gentleman: I was struck with panic attack upon panic attack. Every fear imaginable hit me, in wave upon wave. I even went to a counselor, and that didn't seem to help. That night, I couldn't go to church; I truly did not know if I could go back again. I stayed home, and was attacked voraciously by the enemy. I called out to God for help, because I honestly felt as though I myself would die from the fear -- or to be taken somewhere like a hospital to help me.

Then, I got the umption to go to Neil Anderson's site -- Freedom in Christ, ministries. I printed out "Who I am in Christ" and looked up the verses in the Bible every verse listed. Then, when I felt the enemy attack again like a flood before I fell asleep, I cried out to the Lord: "Lord, I cannot stand another night like the one before. I need to rest in You. Please let me take Your yoke upon me, and please protect me from the enemy. I need You."

Suddenly, I felt so tired, and I went to bed. I may sound crazy, but that night, I could actually feel and hear the enemy attacking me, like fiery arrows to the head with words of hate, fear and promises of destruction. But in the same respect, I could actually feel and hear a contrasting voice -- one that quoted the Bible and protected me, like a force field-type helmet around my head. Then I heard singing -- the most beautiful singing one could ever imagine. The next day I read an e-mail that I get with encouragement for today, and this was the verse:

The LORD your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing." -- Zephaniah 3:17

Back to the shower... after these things were brought to my mind, the Lord really revealed to me what I needed to know about "why." When someone is up against the worst temptations, He DOES give a way of escape. That takes faith in His word. Those who call upon His name WILL be saved... it only takes faith the size of a mustard seed -- and He'll provide the rest.

Part of the solution?

2008-11-07T19:51:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I wish I could be a different "me". I know that sounds silly. On the outside, I sometimes seem vivacious, yet sometimes, inwardly, I'd rather be hiding in a corner. I don't really dislike myself, sometimes I wish that I could have the perfect household, where everyone gets along 100% of the time, and where we don't have to worry about this or that. But, if that were the case, then we'd be living in a perpetual episode of "Leave it to Beaver." Then again, not everything went 100 % smoothly on "Leave it to Beaver."

In the Word, it says that we are to rejoice when people revile us, but I'll admit -- that's the last thing I want to do when things get said. I usually want to go hide in a corner and not come out. Sometimes, I'd prefer to stay in my own little corner of the world, where I can't be hurt by people who I've reached out to in love.

We were watching "Nim's Island" tonight as a family -- which was a very good thing. While my mind soared with Nim as she ran through the jungle and swam in the ocean, and did the adventurous things she did, I found that I understood Alex's character. As a person deals with the world, and becomes hurt by it, it's easier to care from a distance, wishing to live out adventures in your imagination.

But the world is out there -- and the Lord called us to be a light IN this world, while not being OF this world. I often wonder if I'm truly making a difference. I want to make a difference in the lives of those I come in contact with.

A history teacher of mine -- Mr. Sunburg -- said something very profound when I was in high school, and I never forgot it. He said, "If you're not part of the solution, then you're part of the problem."

Since then, I've tried to live up to that. When I see a need, I try my best to step up to the plate, because if I don't do anything to help a situation, then I believe, based upon what Mr. Sunberg said, then I'm part of the problem as to why something positive does not come to pass.

It's something I've wrestled with. Some things, I've discovered, are not in my capacity to fix -- some things are out of my grasp of comprehension. I'm discovering that day by day, I've got to rely upon one person only -- and it's not myself. I have to trust that God is in every single day -- no matter if it's good or bad -- and I have to resign myself to the knowledge that people are not God's robots -- they have been equipped with that nice little ditty called "free will."

It's free will for someone to yell at a person who cuts them off at an intersection. It's free will to look at shows or listen to music that is not edifying. It's free will to spread gossip about someone else. It's free will to choose to argue back with a parent who exercises their free will to loudly complain about how much time you spend in the bathroom. I cannot control people -- I don't have that ability. I can exercise my free will to pray for my friends and enemies. So, if I pray and ask for guidance, and try to interact in a loving manner to others around me, and trust in the Lord with all of my being, then I AM being part of the solution.

Time to allow Jesus to help me to be the hero of my own story.

All I Want....

2008-11-05T12:38:00.000-08:00

When I was younger, I remember thinking my mother was crazy. Every Mother's Day, Birthday, Christmas, Easter... you know, any major event where any thoughts of gifts are concerned, my mother would announce, "I don't want you to spend any money on me for any gifts. Now, I don't want to go away without you kids. ALL I WANT is to have a nice, peaceful day with NO FIGHTING. That's all."

"What?! Who in their right mind WOULDN'T want presents?!"

We'd buy what we could (chocolate covered cherries, affordable-for-children perfume) and fight anyway.

Christmas is coming. In this time of economic insecurity, I told the children what I've been telling them anytime there's any major even where there's the possibility of presents being presented to me: "I don't want you children to go out and buy anything for me. And I don't want to go away or anything -- I want to be with you children -- I just DON'T want ANY FIGHTING."

I heard my children talking to each other a little while after I made my announcement: "What is the MATTER with Mom? Who in their right mind WOULDN'T want PRESENTS?"

They'll find out when they're older... Mom wasn't so crazy after all!

------------------------------------------------------------------

We went away for a few days. It was good to be in the mountains and walk along trails which led to trickleing streams. I actually got a few good photos of the children. We needed to ask God for His direction. I cried alot of tears, sighed alot of appreciative sighs at the sights, sounds and smells of the woods, and I've prayed alot of prayers and and read alot of His Word. In this seeking of God's direction, I'm trying to learn that it's not MY will, but HIS will be done. God directed me to Timothy quite a bit. I've been dealing with hurt, confusion, anger, fear -- and I know that deep down, God is in the midst of everything. I'm learning that to have a testimony, one has to go through a test. I ask for God to guide me daily as I rest in Jesus. May He guide YOU, whoever may be reading this.

All I want is to be the best follower of Christ that I can be, and prayerfully do my best by the people who intersect their lives with mine.

The Smallest Prayer

2008-10-23T13:43:00.000-07:00

The Smallest Prayer
by Grace E. Easley

God hears the very smallest prayer,
Nor sends a cross too great to bear,
And though we stumble now and then,
He always picks us up again.

There is no moment day or night,
When we are hidden from His sight,
No wall too high nor door too stout,
To keep His loving care without.

His ways are wiser than our own,
His strength remains when ours is gone,
We must not doubt nor question why,
He sends the answers by and by.

And this I know within my heart,
All darkness fades and shadows part,
And that sometime, somehow, somewhere,
God hears and answers every prayer!

------------------------------------

My aunt seems to send me things JUST when I need it. I'm not talking about the Maxine cartoons, or those funny photos with the crazy animals.... (even though I must admit, I love those silly animal photos), nor even those quizzes that show how intelligent I am (even though I love those, too). No, it's those wonderful verses or pieces of Biblical wisdom that get sent to me by her when I'm thinking I need some of God's wisdom, or when I'm going through something.

She sent me the above poem. It's just right, when I'm praying yesterday about dealing with the aftermath of all of this junk that happened and also dealing with a child with an ear infection. I remember praying, "Lord -- it says in your Word that if a child asks his father for bread that he won't give them a stone. You say that You take care of Your children better than those on earth. Well, God," I whispered through tears, "I'm your daughter.... please take care of me, I need You so badly in the midst of this storm."

I read a mailing from Voice of the Martyrs -- then I realize what praising God through the storm is all about, and I know that my God will not leave me nor forsake me.

God is listening,,, to the smallest prayer. Thank you, Jesus!

Blessed be the Name of the Lord

2008-10-21T07:46:00.000-07:00

This past weekend, the family had to get a small break from all of the pain associated with our beloved parishioner. As we find out new things, we find out we didn't know the depths of what was going on in this person's life. I know alot of people think that Pentecostal churches are controlling, but we truly aren't. And no organization on this planet can help people if they don't open up and share what's going on.

At any rate, We went to this free family-friendly pic-nic that a person who's running for a county office held for the community. There was rock-climbing, a bungee run, hot dogs, hamburgers, chips and soda, to name a few. My hubby noticed there wasn't something for the littlest attendees, so he asked if we could go to the church and bring the small bouncy-ride for the youngest. They were agreeable and so my hubby went off with my eldest.

The children were having fun, and I felt kind of out of sorts. Then I talked to a couple who had met on the internet, and hearing their story made me smile. Then a bluegrass band started playing. I moved closer and closer, because I'm a huge lover of most every musical style. Then a guy came up and sang with a twang like you wouldn't believe. After he was done, I cracked, "So do you let anybody get up there and sing?"

To my surprise, they called me on it, and had me go up and sing. While I admire bluegrass, I don't KNOW songs by heart in the bluegrass genre. They asked me what I'd like to sing. I chose "Amazing Grace." I've sung before -- but nervousness hit me, as this style is not my normal singing style. But it came out, and people clapped. The band asked me to do some more stuff. I sang part of a song by a bluegrass band called The Sullivans -- "At the Feet of God." It felt... good.

I know I am allowed to feel good -- in spite of what all happened. God did not allow me to see what I saw to hurt me -- I have to learn something. I have to bless the Lord at all times. I have to still say no to my children when I know it is not good for them -- and appreciate those gifts called my children more than I have. I have to know I cannot save all people, and not be bitter that I cannot. I have to still stay open and honest with others about myself, my quirks, and my struggles. I need to keep an open line at all times to Jesus, and not let the evil one cloud my judgement of who I am in Him. In this world where everyone wants to have their 15 minutes of fame and where celebrities are given more of a voice than they ought to have, I must to teach my children to be content at all times wherever they may be -- and rejoice that even if they are not known to the vast masses, that they CAN rejoice that their names are written in the Lamb's book of life.

Blessed be the Name of the Lord!

Please read Pastor Ronnie's blog

2008-10-16T16:21:00.000-07:00

Today is better than yesterday. Yesterday, I was a mess, and went to see a counselor. You see, on Tuesday evening, I was driving a parishioner home, and when we arrived, we came upon her husband. There were things going on in his life that we did not know about. He took his life. I tried to resuscitate him, after getting instructions from 911. I got cut off and called our neighbor next to the church, who is training to be a registered nurse. She came over to help. It was too late. The hospital tried their best. We all tried our best. I would not wish this experience on my worst enemy. The only one restoring my soul is God, Himself. I was talking to Marie when she commented about the photo on a previous posting. I went on there, myself, and saw this blog by Pastor Ronnie. Thank you, Pastor Ronnie -- you have no idea who I am, as I do not know you -- but God knew that I would read your blog and get some solace. Thank you. Please pray for his widow and his parents. I can't write anymore today.

Pastor Ronnie's Blog: YOU CAN MAKE IT

2008-10-16T16:15:00.000-07:00

Pastor Ronnie's Blog: YOU CAN MAKE IT

Where's my Green Thumb?

2008-10-13T20:23:00.000-07:00

I grew up among flora and fauna. The place where my mother and aunts grew up (one uncle died as a teen, and the older boys finished growing up there) was my wonderful wonderland. I started growing up at that very same place, but my family bought a house on a lot down and across the alley, while retaining the former house, and then the old house burned down. I absolutely loved playing in "the old yard"; it was my refuge and a place of escape and escapades.

The old cement slab which was the front porch remained intact, and there I would pretend I was a singer, dancer, whatever I wanted to be that day, I became it on that old cement slab. I sat on that slab and watched the multitude of animals playing. For awhile, the cellar of the old house was still intact, and so my brothers and I would jump down into the cellar and climb back out using the rocks that formerly lined the cellar walls. I'd have little pic-nic tea-parties with my best friend, Jill. Many times I'd walk arm and arm with my beloved Grandmother; she'd talk to me about the old days and show me what my grandfather planted. He planted quite a lot, and obviously had a very green thumb, considering that he died at a young age of 44, and most of the things he planted were still around (some things are still there -- so a part of him remains). I can't begin to say the amount of days we played up in that old yard, but the times spent in that yard were the best times of my childhood.

My grandmother showed me a beautiful white rose and told me how, when my grandfather planted the rose bush that I so greatly admired, the roses were a deep red. We walked to the apple trees that my siblings and I so loved to climb; she told me how he not only planted the trees, but grafted in other types of apples onto the tree. I swear to you, there are no trees on this planet that even compare to the apples that I eagerly ate from that tree whilst growing up.

My grandmother was no slouch when it came to having a green thumb -- she could plant a garden and weed it like nobody's business. It's my understanding that she planted the numerous daffodils that emerged beautifully from the ground with bursts of gold to signal the beginning of spring every year.

My mother inherited that green thumb -- and I bet my aunts did, too. Every year we'd plant a garden. It was an amazing experience as Dad would get out the big old rotor-tiller; the raging sound was almost deafening to our ears, but we stayed to watch the dirt fly here and there. Then Mom would push the hand plow -- it had a huge metal wheel on the front, and closer to the back was the small till which dug the dirt into the rows into which we'd plant the seeds -- it was an antique, but was faithfully used every year until we stopped growing a garden together. We had house plants galore, and we spent much more time outside than we did inside. Anyone who knows me knows that my family had more than its share of problems, but looking at the times we spent growing things, it really could have been worse.

When we got this house, I was sure I would have that green thumb, too. I told my friend Marie yesterday while her sweet son was riding bikes with some of the children that I seriously think I have a brown thumb. Who knows, maybe I have a light khaki thumb. I've planted tulip and other bulbs -- the moles think they're candy. So, I basically keep planting daffodil bulbs, as the moles hate those. I planted blueberry bushes -- my husband thought they were weeds and cut them down, along with the white grapes I planted, the strawberries and some evergreen trees. My eldest boy killed my rose bush with a lawn mower and decided to hack away at my concord grapes because the vines got in his way. I think our first dog thought I was playing a demented form of "fetch, because, she'd watch me plant stuff just to dig it up. The next door neighbor wanted to thank us for doing his lawn while he was moving in, and so mistakenly weed-whacked some of my plants out front; we still love him because he and his wife are great people. I told him he officially belongs to my family now, because EVERYBODY loves to kill my plants!

This year, I decided to contact Michigan Bulb. I ordered all kinds of stuff to plant out front. You see, it was part of a deal that my husband struck up with me. Last year, a different neighbor moved in down the street and proceeded to yank out all kinds of wonderful plant-life -- in the middle of July. I asked both my husband and the new neighbor if I could try to rescue them. They both didn't care. Here's the deal -- I didn't realize that most plant-life will not survive transplanting if the roots of those plants have been sitting out in the hot end-of-July sun. Our front yard looked like something that "The Addams Family" would have treasured beyond belief. I'm sure everyone in the neighborhood had a hearty laugh at the lady faithfully watering the brownest bushes in the county. My husband begged me to allow him to yank them out. Then he said, "Honey -- if you allow me to yank them out, I'll let you order whatever you want from Michigan Bulb." That sealed the deal -- I yanked out every huge, dead bush that "adorned" the front yard, myself.

So in the spring I ordered a vast amount of plant life. I checked the front porch every day for my package, like a child awaiting a much anticipated Christmas gift. Eureka -- they arrived! They were awesome and delivered beautifully; I planted the items right away -- at least right after showing my cool neighbor lady with the solid green thumb. I KID YOU NOT -- only TWO days after this, a huge storm hit our area -- complete with high winds -- and blew one of my plants away. Michigan Bulb replaced it. A serious lack of rain hit the area. Michigan Bulb said they'll replace the rose bushes that up and died. Rabbits have attacked the bushes that survived the rain and the dry weather. Michigan Bulb has said just let them know which ones don't survive, and they'll help me.

The only thing which keeps driving me onward toward my elusive "green thumb status" is that most of the apple trees I've planted have not keeled over and died. However, just the other day, Michigan Bulb sent me a check to cover for some different items I bought because they don't have any more in stock -- hopefully they haven't given up on my green thumb dreams!

Wha' happened?

2008-10-11T11:35:00.000-07:00

My house has turned into a mess, plain and simple; HOWEVER, the entire family worked on the house today, which was a very good thing. How did it get that way in the first place?

You see, first I was busy about the business of homeschooling. This year has become a challenge for my second-born, and this year has become a challenge for me, to the point of almost pulling the plug on my endeavors. In the course of trying to help this child with one subject, the other child with that subject, and still a third on yet another subject, while trying to learn a few things of my own,,, well,,, let's say I feel like I'm stuck in twelve inches of snow, revving my tires and going nowhere. Don't get me wrong -- my children are learning. I'd just like to have an easier time of it.

"No, my son, you do not look like a teen-age dork. While you're at it, here, son -- do your own laundry; you'll be on your own in two years."

"Wow, little girlie-girl, what a wonderful snowflake you made -- now clean up the remains."

"How quickly you ate that candy bar -- now pick the wrapper up off of the floor and put it where it belongs."

"Baby - no- baby -- stop that -- baby -- DON'T CHOKE THE DOG! Honey -- don't use your sister's toothbrush. AH -- DON'T PUT HER TOOTHBRUSH IN THE TOILET!"

I should be thin, with all of the running around I do after the children. But I look at my middle-age spread that has covered more space than I ever cared to imagine, and wonder if I'm dreaming the impossible dream in hoping that I will ever attain a figure that's just SLIGHTLY a shadow of what it used to be.

Thank the Lord above that He's given me a wonderful guy, who, like Him, looks upon what's going on inside of my heart, rather than how well I look on the outside!

How else did I allow my house to get away from me? Well, our church had a fall fest, and I was working until four in the morning some mornings designing and printing flyers, posters, et. al. , writing letters to donors and sponsors, writing articles to send to the media outlets. Some nights I was too exhausted to make supper for the family. And then the day of the much planned-out Fall Fest.... rain, rain, and more rain. It didn't stop some people from coming. And God has REALLY been impressing upon me lately that He wants me to look more upon the hearts, than the numbers of people who may or may not come to these festivities.

He's let me know that I'm not tending to the garden of my heart in the way He'd like me to. I've allowed some weeds to sprout up here and there. You know what they are -- fear, worry, envy, doubt.... there are a few others. They all take away from who one is in Christ. The funny thing is, in the same way that a house can get away from you, or that weeds infest one's garden, those little items that keep us from being all that God wants us to be never come upon us quickly, nor do they sprout up overnight.

I read out of the Old Testament, the Psalms, the Proverbs and the New Testament last night to the family. I usually read out of a children's Bible, but last night, I read out of my own to them, as this spoke to me and I wanted to share this with them; even though they have no real idea what all of the economic and other worldly struggles are really about, they can feel something is up -- and it's frightening them. The oldest does have an idea, and it frightens him, too.

I will now leave you with a small section of what I shared with them, out of Philippians 4:1-23: "...stand fast in the Lord, beloved... Rejoice in the Lord always. Again I will say, rejoice!... Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus. Finally, brethren, whatever things are true, whatever things are noble, whatever things are just, whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely, whatever things are of good report, if there is any virtue and if there is anything praiseworthy -- meditate on these things. The things which you learned and received and heard and saw in me, these do, and the God of peace will be with you."

Amen to that. And may the God of peace be with you who read my words.

Joy and Pain

2008-10-09T12:37:00.000-07:00

I have to speak with utter joy regarding my youngest. Don't get me wrong -- I honestly have no favorites. Each child of mine is precious to me and has a special place in my heart -- conversely, each child has their own unique habit that drives me nuts! I call each and every one "my favorite." With this last child, who I know is my last (unless God Himself wishes to reverse effects of surgery), I've learned to grasp and cherish every nuance.

For instance, this past Sunday, I was teaching Kid's Church. My youngest goes with me almost everywhere, and as per his custom, he came to class with me. At the beginning of the class, he somehow fashioned a dog out of flat pieces of sticky foam. He proceeded to disrupt the class by continuously saying, "Arf, arf, arf, arf, arf...", well, you get the idea. The other children were giving this little bundle of MY joy "the eyeball".

I looked at him and said, "Oh, puppy's asleep." He flipped the "dog" down onto the table and proceeded to make a snoring sound! Everybody started laughing -- he found his audience, and played it up to perfection. Suddenly, he made another sound, then started it all over again: "Arf, arf, arf, arf,,,," well, again -- you get the idea. I looked at him, gave him a look and said, 'Puppy REALLY needs his sleep, honey."

Down went the "dog", cue the snoring, and then, I finally got a grasp of the sound he made: "Ir, ir-ir, ir-irrrr!" What a rooster! What barking that followed! I asked my favorite child (the second born one) to let me borrow a specific toy of his. I proceeded to make my own noise: that of a race car, as I ran over the "dog". "Uh-oh, doggie's dead."

My favorite child (the babe of the family) looked at me amidst the laughter of the children, looked at the children, and then he looked at me again. I braced myself for the sound that only competes with that of a siren. That didn't happen, thank God! No, instead we heard yet again: "Arf, arf, arf, arf....", well, yet again, YOU get the idea!

As I write this, he has placed his bicycle helmet on his head, and has been using a plastic hanger from Wal-Mart as his handlebars, as he's riding an imaginary MOTORCYCLE, while forcing my favorite child (my daughter) to hang onto him, and run behind him as he VROOM-VROOOM'S all over the house. Earlier today, he placed a washcloth on his head and exclaimed that he was a "PIRATE". Following his time of conquering the stuffed animal shark which sat in the middle of the living room, he became a monkey, pointed to my favorite child (my first born) and said, "You a tree, I a monkey!" The other day, he "drove" to work in the back yard; he made a point to kiss me good bye, tell me he was off to work and that he loved me. He "worked" in the sand box for a time, and then burst through the door, shouting, "I'm HO-OME!"

I rushed up to him, gave him a big kiss, and said, "I've missed you!" He glanced up at me, wiped off the kiss and said, "I a dog -- arf, arf, arf,,,," well, you,, uh ,,, know by now.

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Now onto the thing that pains me. I cannot get over how vicious the attacks are hurling during this recent election. Now, I know that political insults have occurred since the early days of politics: a prime example is when Grover Cleveland was running for president, and it was discovered that he fathered a child out of wedlock. The cry during the campaign was "Maw, Maw, where's my Paw?" The Cleveland Campaign was no less discreet, and spread the word about a controversial statement that his opponent's friend had said. Because of gossip, he almost did not win the election; however, because of innuendo, Cleveland won the election, and the answer to the call, "Maw, Maw, where's my Paw?" was "He's off to the White House, haw, haw, haw!"

In another thought, everyone should know that actors involved in politics can be a lethal mix: just look at John Wilkes-Booth, the actor who assassinated President Lincoln.

Now, let's move forward. I don't know about most people, but I've heard nasty stuff on both sides. I honestly don't know what Sarah Palin has done to arouse the complete and utter hatred shown by the Entertainment set, and it pains me that people can be so outright vicious to someone who by all appearances is an honest and decent person. First we have Whoopi Goldberg stating on a site that she's "afraid" of Sarah Palin. Then we hear how Matt Damon is "afraid" of a woman who believes in a young earth. SO? To most people who study science and the Bible, that makes total and utter sense. I'll have to write a future blog on science and the Bible. Then, we get Tina Fey (I have to admit, that I laughed hysterically during the last sketch featuring the Palin/Biden "debate".) with her thoughts on Sara Palin.

Next, we get inundated with Sara Berhardt (I thought she fell off of the face of the earth), who says that Sara Palin should be "gang-raped" by guys in NYC. Now, we have Madonna, who changes worse than a chameleon to fit her purpose (does anyone remember her matching drapery-inspired dress and shoes complete with an up do and glasses to read her children's book to the children?), yelling that if Sara Palin comes to "her city" (which one -- London, New York City, or the town she originally hailed from) that she will kick a certain part of Sara Palin's anatomy. Sara Palin's accent, her mothering abilities, her intelligence, and so much more have been attacked to a degree that far exceeds normal politics.

I find this talk completely unnecessary and only divisive to our country.

I keep wondering, how can Matt Damon, Madonna, and all of these types tell ME what is best for me? If they want to do something to help this country, then why don't they give back ten million bucks a film to their adoring public, instead plopping down 200 dollars for a onesie?" When did being pro-life and being a Christian become a point of being a detriment to getting elected? We were founded as one nation under GOD. It pains me to see that those who love life -- all life -- are getting raked over the proverbial coals. The normal person cannot afford botox, private jets, private nannies, et al. Celebrities don't speak for me. And I wish they'd stop.

IF these politicians want to help the deficit, then why don't they stop spending money tearing each other down, and use those hundreds of millions of dollars raised to help out those in need? Hillary Clinton is 50 million dollars in debt due to her failed election bid.

The internet is being used as a battlefield, where rumor and innuendo are treated as fact. There's something wrong, here.

Personally, I think that instead of hearing all of this garbage by famous people who wouldn't know the price of a gallon of gas if they rode past the gas station in their limos, and extra commentary by pundits who are clearly in favor of one particular candidate, each candidate should be able to to have a certain amount of time on national television to make their case for why they should be elected WITHOUT any attacks on the other person. There should not be any extra commentary restating what that candidate "said", and why we should or should not believe that candidate. All that should be stated are facts, not this extra garbage -- when I learned about news, it was stressed that we needed to be balanced in our reporting -- we were not allowed to air our personal views.

Obama has stated from the beginning that electing McCain would be like electing Bush for four more years. Anyone who knows about McCain and Bush know that there is no love lost between the two, because they are so different. Now questions are being brought up about Obama's past associations, and the "FOUL" cries are going up left and right. I guess it depends upon who is making the accusations.

You know what I really want from these candidates? I just want to know where they stand on the issues -- I want them both to cut through the rhetoric, the name calling, the bashing, and to finally state in exact terms what they wish to do to try to improve this country -- without playing the "blame game". Instead, everyone gets their idea of politics from Comedy Central and Saturday Night Live, and rely upon other people to do their thinking for them.

Too bad that no one is calling upon the name of the LORD.

What a Clean House you have!

2008-10-08T20:46:00.000-07:00

I teach the teen class on Wednesday nights, and the teen room was cluttered from the Fall Fest that our church recently had. So the teens and I played some music and cleaned it out. Why is that important? It happened to fit in perfectly with my lesson with the teens: Make room for Jesus.

I asked the teens to compare their regular house with their "house" -- their bodies, the temple of Christ. There was the typical joking, but then I hope I touched them with this illustration as to why you should fill your life with things of Christ.

I somehow brought up the story in the Bible where Jesus talks about casting a demon out of a person. Well, that demon just hovers around, looking for a body to inhabit. No luck, so it goes back to its original house and discovers that house empty. It goes out and gathers seven other demons and inhabit that empty house.

When I first read that in the Bible, I explained, I was upset, because I didn't understand the use in casting a demon out of a person or asking sin to leave my life, if I'm only going to end up worse! Then God pointed out one... important... word... in that teaching by Jesus. The demon found the house EMPTY. That means, plain and simple, that the person did not fill up the house with Jesus; so that means there was no one to guard the door of that person's heart.

Pointing around the room, I said, "You can clean up this entire room, take out the seats, the tables, the wall treatments -- even the electrical outlets and lights. And that room will be clean -- spotless, even. But -- that clean, empty room will not be of any use to anyone. That's the same with your personal house. If you turn your backs from doing the wrong things, and clean all of that out of your lives, but don't fill it up and make room in your heart for Jesus, then what use are you to the kingdom of God? I urge you to fill up your lives with Jesus, and He'll give you a purpose, and He will protect you from the one on the other side of the door, knocking to try to get you to do what you should not be doing."

I had them pretend our classroom was a "cleaned house", but one that has Jesus living in it. I pretended I was Jesus at the door, while they knocked on the outside door. I wouldn't let them in. I hope they got the point. So,,, what state is your heart in? Personally, I'm praying to help me take out bitterness, unforgiveness and replace it with love, gentleness, true forgiveness and more of Him.

Sacrifices of the heart

2008-10-07T12:02:00.000-07:00

I took a few days off of blogging, as Sundays are busy for me, and yesterday, I got caught up playing a game on the internet. I do that sometimes to shut down my mind. It's always going with different ideas, and so I'll play a game on agame.com to wind it all down.

So I get back on and hear such horrific news about a man in Los Angeles who shot and killed his entire family -- mother-in-law included -- and himself. He's been unemployed for some time, and I guess became despondent over the recent financial difficulties facing the country. Another man in Nebraska gave up his NINE children at a hospital so that they could be taken care of. My heart cries for these poor souls who feel as though there is no hope!

It reminds me of stories my mother and grandmother told me. My mother's father died when Mom was young, yet my Gram kept the house running and everything together. Numerous people -- even Gram's own sisters - told Gram to give up my mother and her underage siblings to an orphanage. Gram refused and said that she would trust the Lord would help her, as long as she'd try her best. He provided for Gram and her family. My grandmother came from a wealthy family with a maid and all, yet she learned to plant gardens, to can, to sew and to work jobs that her sisters thought were beneath a woman of breeding. My grandmother always told me what ever I faced in life, that if I did my part, God would do His. I learned tenacity from that woman, and even though she died at the ripe old age of 95, I miss her every single day.

At any rate, my mother used to tell me of a family that lived down the street from them who faced similar circumstances. The father of the family died, leaving the lady of the house alone to take care of her children. She later gave up the children to an orphanage, but not before getting an assurance that she herself could work at the orphanage; the children all grew up and understood the sacrifices their mother made.

To get through this hard time for the entire world, we must all make some sacrifices; HOWEVER, I urge anyone who may stumble upon this blog to NEVER GIVE UP. Please, do not think for one millisecond that suicide is the answer to this problem! NOTHING is so bad that you have to consider suicide as the answer --and I know, I've been broke, forsaken, unloved. You name it, I've been through the gamut. Even as a pastor's wife, it gets so very lonely. HOWEVER, I am NEVER alone.

And if you're reading this, and am downhearted, then my friend, I urge you that instead of giving up, give it all over to the Lord Jesus Christ. It says in His word: "Take my yoke upon you, for my burden is light." And He's so right. I've lived without Christ, and that's when life seemed the least worth living -- even though I had money at that time. Do I face troubles? Every single day. However, knowing that everything comes together for good to them who love the Lord, knowing that NOTHING shall separate me from the love of Christ Jesus, knowing that there's a better day coming if I trust that He will give me what I need, all helps me to keep strong in the turmoils that beset us all.

We need to stop thinking that money is the answer to our problems and realize that money is just a tool to help us help others. In the words of Corrie Ten Boom: "There is no pit too deep that God is not deeper still." God WILL help you out of the pit -- you must dare to have hope in the midst of hopeless times.

My little business

2008-10-04T21:02:00.000-07:00

I'm having fun writing a blog... I never thought I'd get into this, but I've been pushing that little button at the top of the blogs - "next blog", and I've discovered some cool places. There's somebody who's a "scrabookaholic" and there's a wonderful photographer out there in blogger space, whose brides end up getting pregnant -- must be in the water, he says. It's amazing how many different ideas and how much creativity is out there! Wow!

I was thinking about how people talk about their business, so I guess I have that ability to speak about mine. I have a printing/tee-shirt printing and design business. It all got started not so long after 9/11.

A year previously, my husband got hit head-on by a person who was talking on their cell phone. My hubby actually died three times on the way to the hospital, ended up in the hospital for 28 days, and now cannot walk like he used to. He can't run and is in pain every single day. This all happened while I was pregnant with my beautiful daughter. It was hard, but our church where we were living at the time was absolutely wonderful, and through God's help, we pulled through it all.

At any rate, I was working as a pharmacy tech at the time, and not having a very nice time with the new manager, when 9/11 happened. A very frightening occurrence, being that we lived a mere hour's train ride away from the city, and I had close relatives who live in the city. It was a horrendous time for our country. I was glued to the television screen, tears streaming down my face. It was like everything was raining down at once: my husband's accident, the birth of our daughter, my having to work away from her to get a pittance of money into the home, then the attack on our country -- it all rained down hard, like a torrent that flooded my innermost being.

Even in the midst of our darkest sorrows, the Lord is faithful and just to shine through the darkness and shine the light to a better tomorrow.

In that moment of sorrow, I used some photos, used text of my own, and created a shirt to show our support and sadness about what happened at The World Trade Center. I bought a five-pack of tee-shirt transfer paper at my store, and ironed on the design with my household iron. I placed the design on shirts for my family, and we wore the shirts to church that week. Someone asked me where I bought the shirt. When I told the lady that I created the shirt, she said that maybe I had found what God had in store for me to do, so that I could stay at home to take care of my children and husband, and make money doing it.

I never sold that first design, as I would have felt horrible making money from such a disaster. I remember saying that if God wanted me to design shirts, He'd have to give me some ideas, AS WELL AS teach me how to be an artist, as I never considered myself to be an artist as much as I considered myself to be a writer and voice-over whiz.

Suddenly, ideas started coming to me -- waves and waves of ideas. Before I married my husband, I was a copywriter and a voice-over artist; I had never considered myself an artist -- besides, my sister could paint and draw circles around me, as she's a "real" artist. But there they were, what I believe were God-given ideas, so I started drawing those ideas, coloring them in on the computer, and started selling some shirts here and there. Most asked me to create something special for them. I've learned quite a bit, yet there's so much to learn.

Since 2001, I've added full-color printing, utilizing my high-end photocopier. I've done memory cards, business cards and brochures, letterheads, ticket books, Christmas cards, and so much more. Just this week, I got a spiral binder machine. I've still got a long way to go to get where I want in this business world (for instance, I'd love to have a web-site), but with God's help, all will work together for good.

I don't "excel" at some things

2008-10-03T20:56:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, I don't like that Proverbs 31 woman. I try to be like her, but I don't quite get to be that woman of grace, beauty and brains. I write this as I sit in my sweat pants and bare feet. The Proverbs 31 woman would NEVER be caught at the computer in her bare feet! I bet if that Proverbs 31 woman were alive today, she'd be able to handle practically anything...

Have a dinner party for 300? No problem! The house is spotless, anyway, she's so perfect! I noticed in the Word why she's so perfect -- she has servants! One of my friends (I believe it was Marie) stated, "Don't forget, YOU have servants, too -- Whirlpool, Hoover, Frigidaire..." At any rate, I bet if that Proverbs 31 woman were here, she'd be able to handle mail merging with Excel - no problem at all!

My wonderful hubby is president of the local business chamber, and the secretary had trouble with mail merging from excel. My husband brought home the list, determining to help her complete the task. Hours later, he STILL hadn't merged anything. As a wife who tries to be a helper to her husband, I volunteered to find out more about excel. I looked up this wonderful little FREE course on the internet, and got to work. Nothing about mail merging. RATS! All the while, my children (who usually run as soon as I get a moment away from them during homeschool hours) wouldn't stop hovering around me. "Hey, Mom - I got done with my handwriting... what next?"

The only thing of importance I've figured out in this merging search is that the key to my children becoming eager beavers during school hours is to get busy on something important for either my husband or myself.

I did find out that I had to label the cells to create a mail merge, but that's as far as I could get; the pressure to have my daughter read to me and my son to stop digging into the potato chips outweighed the merging of the mail, and I apologetically passed the torch back to my hubby.

Within fifteen minutes, while my daughter was reading about a crying dog, fox, rabbit and boy, my husband burst forth from the office and proclaimed, "You almost had it, Becky -- the mail merge is now complete!"

Victory is ours! The potato chips were saved (only to be stolen later by the baby of the family), the children got their schooling in, and even though I didn't completely save the day (I forgot to put on my "Supermom cape"), there's a certain amount of pleasure in knowing that I had a small part in helping my hubby get the job done.

Chuck Bently has it on the money

2008-10-02T12:11:00.000-07:00

As a homeschooling mother, I usually don't get to listen to the radio during the day. Goodness, I'll be lucky if I get to change into nice clothes, because I usually hit the ground running, because if I sleep in too late, my children, who could be named, "Brooding Storm", "Hurricane Category 4", "Ms. Tornado", and "Little Mister Typhoon" could make me rue the fact that I did so! But then, that's a whole other post for this blog.....

At any rate, I was on my way to my first ever appointment at a chiropractor's, when I turned on my radio. I was about to place my Newsboys CD into the player when I heard a person named Chuck Bently on the radio. He's on Crown.org. He took over for the late Larry Burkett's show, "Money Matters." What he said spoke directly into my spirit, and I needed to share it.

Did anyone notice that the major component missing in all of this trying to solve the whole economic disaster is the MAJOR component that we as a nation should come together to do: PRAY and seek God's face and wisdom in this matter.

I sure have, and so has Chuck Bently.

He said that we've omitted God from the equation, and we need to ask God to turn our hearts over to Him. Chuck stated that we as Christians need to run contrary to the world and form a grassroots movement to:
1) Turn to Him
2) Get our personal house in order
3) Create the "New American Dream" of LIVING WITHIN OUR MEANS.

Wow! Living within our means! What a concept congress, the country and the world has missed out on. It says in the Word that whatever we are beholding to is of what, therein we are slaves. We need to get out from under the bondage of credit card debt (and I don't mean by declaring bankruptcy), the bondage of wanting more and more and more, while having less and less and less to pay for these items. It means saying no -- to our children, the ads on the television and radio, and mostly to ourselves.

It says in the Word that God will take care of our NEEDS according to His riches in glory. Funny, I never saw anything about wants, although I'm sure He fulfills our desires beyond our wildest imagination. It also says that we as Christians are NOT to WORRY. We are not to worry about what we will eat, drink or wear -- that is what the world worries about. BUT, our FATHER in Heaven WILL take care of all of our NEEDS. What a wonderful Father!

We Christians have to step up and be the leading force, showing a world terrified by this economic disaster that there is NO reason to fear!

Chuck Bently has called for a fast from October 14th through November 23rd to ask for God's wisdom, Divine guidance, and Repentance. He's based that upon II Chronicles 7:14: "If my people, who are called by My name will humble themselves, and pray and seek My face, and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin and heal their land." My own husband preached that one verse for over a month -- God feels it's THAT important that we all humble ourselves. Anyway, Chuck also said that after the fast, that we should have a week of Feast and Thanksgiving for God's provision, followed by a National Day of Generosity on November 30th.

Chuck is right -- we need to stop waiting for someone else to help us -- Church leaders need to LEAD -- and by that, they need to point to our Father God in Heaven as the answer to our need. I plan on fasting and becoming humble before the Lord,,, I humbly ask that you do the same.

Support Your Local Pastor

2008-10-01T14:07:00.000-07:00

The title of my blog is "Proverbs 31 woman... in training." From that title alone, one could surmise that I am a woman who is imperfect, yet striving to be a better person through Christ. I will share with you that I am also a pastor's wife. I strive to be as good a helper of the Lord, as well as my dear husband. I wrote my thoughts... I'm thinking of writing to the editor of my local paper with this one.

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SUPORT YOUR LOCAL PASTOR

October is officially, “Pastor Appreciation Month.” As a pastor’s wife, I can assure anyone that my husband does appreciate the beautiful cards that we have received through the years. However, let me state the ways in which most Pastors feel truly appreciated.

The first task of any parishioner is to pray for their pastor. Assuredly, your pastor prays for you. There’s a certain pressure on a pastor; eyes look more closely at pastors to see if they’re staying honest. A pastor needs prayer to rise above the temptations that beset every single human being on the planet. Pastors need prayer as they go into spiritual warfare for their sheep, and as they prepare the word to give to the flock. And while you’re at it, pray for your brothers and sisters in the faith; prayer truly changes things for the better.

Secondly, appreciate your pastor by reading your Bible. Quit expecting the pastor to spoon-feed you the Word. It has been said that “knowledge is power;” if you read your Bible every day, the power you will receive to live and function is this world will truly be powerful. Also, if you read the Bible, you will not be tricked into believing a false doctrine, and you will not get offended by the truth that pastors must sometimes mete out when they see a wrong being done.

Speaking of offenses, a really wonderful way to appreciate your pastor is to quit complaining. If you attend a small church, instead of complaining about a lack of children’s programs, youth programs, or a program that you feel your church should have, step up to the plate, dig in, and help make that program come to pass. If you attend a large church, quit complaining about how there’s no place for you. Make friends with those in the department that you’d wish to be a part of, be ready to volunteer, and with time, you will be trusted to take on more and more responsibilities. Quit complaining about the length of the service; if you’d go to Disneyland, you would be waiting in line longer than the duration of a complete worship service.

Another way that you can appreciate your pastor is to tithe. Yes, I’m talking about money, and no – that’s not all churches think about. But if you don’t tithe, then how in the world are those programs that you’d like to see at your church going to come to pass? When the church asks you to pay a tithe, they are not asking for all of your paycheck – they’re only asking for ten percent; Uncle Sam asks for more. And, in all reality, it is not the church that asks for a tithe; it is written in the book of Malachi. Besides, the majority of money that goes to a church pays for the electricity, the heat, the air conditioning–all of those wonderful items that help to make your time at church a more enjoyable experience, or to help someone who encounters a financial emergency.

Fifth, to appreciate the pastor, please respect the pastor’s family. Most times, your pastor’s spouse met and fell in love with the person behind the collar; most spouses did not go to Bible College. If the pastor’s spouse did not know Scripture before, they will definitely make sure they know Scripture almost better than their spouse within two years of the pastor’s tenure. Please don’t criticize the spouse if they work outside of the home, or if the house is not pristine. Please don’t criticize the pastor’s spouse if they stay at home and have a pristine home. Please don’t criticize the pastor’s spouse if the children are too perfect, or if the children are not perfect enough.

Come to think of it, the pastor’s children did not go to Bible College, either; they’re in the midst of being trained up in the way that they should go. So, please, do not judge the children if they belch or go to the kitchen to get a cup of water because they’re thirsty. They’re only children; and in small churches, your pastor and spouse no doubt could call your place of worship their second home. If your pastor and spouse are leading worship, don’t look condescendingly at the children if they don’t sit perfectly still; sit beside the children and help support the pastor’s family. Ask the pastor to watch the children so your pastor can get a date night with their spouse.

Lastly, pray some more. Your pastor is the one you call in the middle of the night when there’s been an accident or sickness or death. Your pastor is the one who will travel to the hospital at a moment’s notice to make sure you’re okay and comforts you as you shed tears of sorrow or joy. Your pastor is the one who stays up late in the night following your telephone call praying for you. Your pastor is the one who is trying to help you if you need a helping hand. Your pastor is the one who is doing more than speaking a few flowing words of encouragement and admonition on Sundays, your pastor is at the front of the spiritual battleground, doing battle on your behalf. Please help lift up your pastor so that your pastor – and the pastor’s family -- can stand longer and stronger on your behalf. If you follow these few instructions, then your pastors will truly know that you appreciate them.

A New Adventure

2008-09-30T08:53:00.000-07:00

Blogging.... If someone would have told me whilst attending college that I would be "blogging", I would have laughed at the idea. "What's BLOGGING?" I would have screeched amidst howls of laughter at the word.

But,,, here I am, determining to write thoughts that may or may not be read by someone in the cyberspace universe. Do we have such a need to be heard by SOMEONE that we write blogs? Do we all wish to have a miniscule way in which to be forever imprinted on the canvas of life? Is this a way to acheive a sense of immortality? Who knows.

My problem is, I have such a desire to write; blogging may be a safe means of writing what is in my heart without fear of getting that proverbial "rejection slip".

So,,, onward and upward with this new adventure!