Reunion

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Good that comes out of the Bad

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Who is it?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh,, C'mon...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Pains of Childbirth

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Where does the time go?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Who's waiting for you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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