Thursday, December 28, 2006
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Try not to look down your nose or look the other way, when you see those "bums" on the street. Try not to watch in disgust when you see the junkie. Till you have walked in their shoes, you don't know what hell they are in. You don't know their story or what brought them to this point. No one wants to be that way. They have fallen into the Abyss.
There was a time in my life, when I really looked down my nose at people, in pure judgment. I had little compassion for my fellow man. What does it take to learn compassion and empathy? For me, it took losing everything.
"An untrained child is an orphan," I was told, by my Mother, as my life became unglued and I fell into the pits. Head first into the abyss of addiction, I fell so hard, I wanted to die. I'd been homeless, culminated a very serious addiction to Heroin, amassed a pretty bad criminal record in the mist of it all. Yes, I was taught compassion for all these savory types. Pain was my using agenda. I can remember though, as if it was yesterday, when I heard someone complain about there pain and I flippantly thought, "Hey, get over it." I thought a person just picked themselves up by their own boot straps and moved on. I was to find out, all about mental illness, addiction, homelessness and a real wish that I was dead.
As I stood on the bridge over looking the water, I watched as the ice jammed. I was so dope sick and as I got another stomach cramp, that almost knocked me to my knees, I had the urge to jump in to the water. I seriously, contemplated if it was cold enough to just freeze me and take me under. My tears were so cold as they fell upon my cheeks. It was so very cold and I had so far to go in one of the worst snow storms. I stood glued to that spot as I cried out for help from the very depths of my soul. "Please God, can't you see me suffer? I'm so tired, please help me, please." This wasn't a regular wish for a bag of dope to stave off the sickness, this was a true cry for help. My Lord heard me but it wasn't a gift wrapped up in a pretty box with a beautiful bow. No, he threw me in Prison and I was not happy about that, at all. It took me years to understand and I am so thankful because that is what it took for me to rise above this all, to learn real compassion and empathy where there was none. I was humbled.
Are you humble? What are you thankful for? What will it take for you to see?
Thursday, December 14, 2006
Mat 10:32 "Therefore everyone who confesses Me before men, I will also confess him before My Father who is in heaven.
Mat 10:33 "But whoever denies Me before men, I will also deny him before My Father who is in heaven.
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
I believe in the power of prayer! I ask you for yours for my Granddaughter, Samantha Jean. Right about now, she is at the Hospital in Buffalo, N.Y. having an EEG, a brain scan test.
My son Bill, Samantha's father, has told me they are not sure why she "Spaces out." They are not sure why her speech is delayed. When she has these episode's, she sits and stares and often her arms and legs are moving but he says it's not really like a seizure.
I pray right here, right now, that not a thing is wrong with my Grandbaby. I pray if there is, The Great Physician heals her, as I know He can. Let it be, that she is a deep thinker, like her Grandma Babs and just gets excited about it from time to time. My Heavenly Father is an awesome God and I believe all this. I ask for your prayers for Samantha and your agreement in prayer. Amen
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Monday, December 04, 2006
(Courtesy of my friend, Wysteria, who always inspires me!)
Sunday, December 03, 2006
Chief YellowHawk's Prayer
O Great Spirit, Whose voice I hear in the winds,
and whose breath gives life to all the world,
hear me, I come before you, one of your children.
I am small and weak. I need your strength and wisdom.
Let me walk in beauty and make my eyes
ever behold the red and purple sunset.
Make my hands respect the things you have made,
my ears sharp to hear your voice.
Make me wise so that I may know the things you
have taught my people,
the lesson you have hidden in every leaf and rock.
I seek strength not to be superior to my brothers,
but to be able to fight my greatest enemy, myself.
Make me ever ready to come to you with clean hands and straight eyes,
so when life fades as a fading sunset,
my spirit may come to you without shame.
Chief Yellow Hawk
The life of an Indian is like the wings of the air.
That is why you notice the hawk knows how to get his prey.
The Indian is like that. The hawk swoops down on its prey; so does the Indian.
In his lament he is like an animal. For instance, the coyote is sly; so is the Indian.
The eagle is the same way.
That is why the Indian is always feathered up: he is relative to the wings of the air.
Black Elk (1863-1950)
Oglala Sioux Chief
Saturday, December 02, 2006
I have been beaten, raped, been a heroin addict, sent to prison and I shot my abuser. I was in constant turmoil, for myself as well as the things my children were subjected to and witnessed. For some reason, I did all my worrying and thinking at night, as I lay in bed. I was constantly drugged for many, many years, just trying to drown out the emotional pain as well as the physical pain that I endured. I would lay in the quiet of night and think and replay it all, over and over in my head. It would then carry on, into my dreams. I was tormented and often dreaded even going to sleep. I lay awake many nights, unable to sleep, the "Witching Hour," I called it. The nightmares would often stay with me throughout the next day, they were surreal and aboding. I do believe they had a huge impact on me. That's until I went to prison and began to read the Word, every night, in my bunk. It is never quiet in most prisons and where I was, everything echoed and was intensified. At one point my cell was located right across the hall from the Guards station. It seemed they partied every night and talked loudly, with no regard. Then again, I was a prisoner #OF6708 and I had no right to complain about the accomodations, did I?
I spoke with Pastor Dixie Welker, a wonderful,pleasingly plum woman, who was in our prison ministry. Pastor Dixie was a no frills straight to the point kinda preacher. She quickly became street/prison savvy and I do believe the Spirit led her to minister to us. She did not have it easy as you often had girls, who just wanted to get out of their cells and meet up with their girlfriends, who came to church. At one point, at the beginning of Dixie's appointment, at any given moment, you could look over and see two girls kissing and possibly worse. Once Dixie became privy to the goings on, she addressed it. She told us, she had nothing to say about homosexual behavior but had a nasty distaste for deviant behavior, especially in her church. If you were caught, in a deviant manner, you would be dealt with and possibly get a one-way ticket to the RHU, the"Hole."
Pastor Dixie, listened to me and made a life changing suggestion. "Read the Word before you go to sleep, it's like feeding your soul."
I've lived by her advice all these years and have not had one nightmare since. I also fall asleep praying. If it worked for me, it can work for you!
Monday, November 27, 2006
I do not believe we realize just how powerful our words are. I don't believe we fully understand the ability, especially as a Mother, to embrace a child or cut them to the quick. We must choose our words carefully, when dealing with our children. See, they have faith, big faith.
You tell them that God exists and loves them and that's what they believe.
You tell them that they are going to hell if they lie and that's what they believe.
Out of those two sentences, which do you want your child to embrace?
You must have the faith of a child to enter the gates of heaven, isn't that what it says? That is because, as a child we are so impressionable, so full of faith. So, mark your own words, before you say hurtful things, think first how it will STAY with that child. This is your first priority, Mothers, your first job. What will you do with the child, that God himself has entrusted you with?
NASB: Death and life are in the power of the tongue, And those who love it will eat its fruit. (NASB ©1995)
GWT: The tongue has the power of life and death, and those who love to talk will have to eat their own words. (GOD'S WORD®)
KJV: Death and life are in the power of the tongue: and they that love it shall eat the fruit thereof.
ASV: Death and life are in the power of the tongue; And they that love it shall eat the fruit thereof.
BBE: Death and life are in the power of the tongue; and those to whom it is dear will have its fruit for their food.
DBY: Death and life are in the power of the tongue, and they that love it shall eat the fruit thereof.
JPS: Death and life are in the power of the tongue; and they that indulge it shall eat the fruit thereof.
WBS: Death and life are in the power of the tongue: and they that love it shall eat the fruit of it.
WEB: Death and life are in the power of the tongue; those who love it will eat its fruit.
YLT: Death and life [are] in the power of the tongue, And those loving it eat its fruit.
Thursday, November 23, 2006
Don't you see, God will see fit to comfort us. This tugs at my heart strings. But many times, I can remember my own sons comforting me. He places his littlest Angels in the most precarious places...
Kenneth F. Trofatter, Jr., MD, PhD
Maternal-Fetal Medicine can be a rough business sometimes. The highs are great, but the lows can keep you down for days. I have always tried to abide by the admonition in the House of God that one should always remember “the patient has the disease,” but sometimes that really is easier said than done. I can usually keep things in perspective, explaining complicated problems to patients at most levels of understanding in a way that they can appreciate the basic issues, while maintaining a reasonable level of emotional distance myself, but the other day, I got blind-sided. It is a poignant story and is worth relating to my readers. Situations that tug at the heart remind us that feeling is a privilege that we should not take for granted. I was called in to see a very poor Hispanic woman who was having her sixth baby. She had been sent because one of the baby’s kidneys could not be seen by ultrasound. She had had one son, the oldest child, about 11 years old, who was actually with her in the room as her only support person that day, followed by four daughters. She made it clear at the outset that she desperately wanted another son and had been told that this baby was, indeed, a boy. She was poorly educated, very frightened, and very anxious and communication with her, even with an interpreter, was limited because she spoke a ‘dialect.’ The ultrasound exam went very smoothly. The baby was appropriately grown and consistent with her ‘dates.’ She was about 33 and a half weeks’ and due on Christmas day. The baby was found to have a multicystic dysplastic (nonfunctional) kidney on the left side. But, the right kidney, ureter, and bladder were normal and all were working well because the baby had normal amniotic fluid (mostly fetal urine this late in pregnancy). The baby had no other visible abnormalities. In the simplest terms possible, I explained to her that the baby had only one kidney, but that he should do just fine after birth. Many people have only one kidney and this baby’s one good kidney had enlarged to compensate for the other kidney and should be able to support him through a long and normal life. Despite my reassurances, and my insistence that I was not holding anything back, that we had seen many babies in this situation and all had done well, she began sobbing softly. I was at a loss for words but, at this point, her son reached out and grasped her shaking hand, softly stroking her fingers and telling his mother that everything would be all right, and that he could not wait to see his new brother and to help take care of him. She relaxed immediately with his touch, looked into his eyes, and began to smile herself. He was an angelic child, mature, handsome and soft-spoken, and he obviously had a much firmer grasp of the situation than his mother. I thanked him for his help and told him that his brother would be a wonderful Christmas present for him and his family and his eyes sparkled. I looked at him, nodded my head in gratitude, smiled, and then got up to leave. In the dim light of the exam room, I noticed that his skin was ashen and his lips were parched. As I walked to the door, the interpreter came toward me and then clutched at my arm as I was going out the door. She thanked me for my help with the woman and then told me that she knew the family well. When I asked her if they were related, she looked back in the direction of the woman and her son and told me, “No, but you know that boy with her, he is her oldest child and her only son. She is upset because she really wants the baby to be normal. All the interpreters are close to them because her son is dying of leukemia and can’t have any more therapy. He just wants to live until Christmas to see his new brother before he dies.….” I was glad I was at the door when she told me that. It had been a long week and I was tired, but the tears in my eyes would have been there regardless. And you know what; they come back each time I tell this story to someone, even now while I am writing it down. Life is short, and shorter for some than others, but we can all contribute something in our own way in the little time we have…
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
I want you to take one day out of one year of the rest of your life and live it without any guilt. I want you to eat like there's no tomorrow, love like you'll never know it another day and laugh till you can't laugh anymore. I want you to have hope and know unconditional and divine love for one day. I want you to remember those that have gone ahead and are not here to share in your turkey or your day. I want you to remember and be grateful, thankful for that time that you had with that person or persons.
Many of us feel utterly alone. But it's all perspective. Friends, good friends are family we hand pick. If you have no friends or family, you chose this. If you think you have no family, you chose this. Even if you never see or talk to another family member till the day you die, you are never alone unless you choose to be. Family, remains in our heart. Even when they are a 1000 miles away, they are always in my heart. Hell, they could live next door but if I choose not to have family, I won't. But they are as close as my memories. Choose to have family this year, even if you are alone. Celebrate laughter, love and life and find one thing, one little thing to be grateful for, no matter how miserable you believe you are. Search your heart for that laughter you once knew. If you are alone tomorrow, rejoice in a happy moment. If your Mom is gone, remember that look of love, like no other, her looking down upon you and be grateful. Find something, search your soul and be Thankful.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
I Corinthians 14:2-20
I received a nice comment, I think? She said that she "loved my take on religion until she read about speaking in tongues and she doesn't want anything to do with that fanatical garbage."
I understand her feelings. I've been to churches where I wanted to turn and run for higher ground. I've seen and heard a lot, in my quest for the truth, in my journey down this Spiritual path.
No, I don't walk around speaking in tongues and in fact scripture kinda frowns on that. It is a private thing, a language only God and I share.
What it all comes down to, is this? Do you believe all of the Bible or do you pick and choose? Will you only apply what you want? Do you believe that these things don't apply today? If you think like that, first, you are short changing yourself. Secondly, why bother believing anything at all? What is the point of having faith in the Words in Scripture, if it doesn't apply to today? Ask yourself this and tell me if I am wrong!
Monday, November 20, 2006
My Sister sent me a video, a song for Autism awareness. I challenge you to not watch it and not get a lump in your throat. I had a tear in my eye.
Click the link.
This is a repost...
I have moved here on Long Island to help my sister with my nephew, Ryan who is 4 years old and has Autism. A pleasant child, he is bright, extremely clever but locked away in a world I cannot reach. His vocabulary is very limited, thus he often becomes frustrated as I myself would if I could not explain my emotion, pain, joy or ask the million questions he must have. Does he take things at face value? Does he want to be uncommunicative? Is he content to live in his little world? He often laughs for what seems for no reason, he giggles and plays in his own little slice of heaven. I often believe he is entertained by Angels. I think he sees them and as he looks off into the distance, he sees something very interesting with a gleam in his eye. I think they play with him and he's quite content to be left alone. He doesn't fancy the therapy he must go through five days a week. He really would rather be left alone when his speech therapist comes three nights a week. But he has, for the most part, a content spirit. But we will push him and prod him to get the language skills, We will push to get him to recognize the things he needs to do for himself and to see or understand what is going on in the world. You rarely get eye contact but when he looks in to your eyes, it is without a doubt a connecting of souls, a brush with heaven. His smile is so warm and inviting, just as his laughter is contagious and goes straight to the warmest recesses of your own heart. He is rarely content to sit idly by and listen to you read a story from one of his children's books. He will watch a few programs on T.V. But often looses interest after a short period of time. He comes and gets me when he needs me and we wrestle and play but when he's done, he goes off on his next little adventure, until he needs my attention or wants something. But why would he do anything else...when he can play with Angels!!
The older I get, the more I enjoy Saturday mornings. Perhaps it's the quiet solitude that comes with being the first to rise, or maybe it's the unbounded joy of not having to be at work. Either way, the first few hours of a Saturday morning are most enjoyable.
A few weeks ago, I was shuffling toward the garage with a
steaming cup of coffee in one hand and the morning paper in
the other. What began as a typical Saturday morning turned
into one of those lessons that life seems to hand you from
time to time. Let me tell you about it:
I turned the dial up into the phone portion of the band on
my ham radio in order to listen to a Saturday morning swap
net. Along the way, I came across an older sounding chap,
with a tremendous signal and a golden voice. You know the
kind; he sounded like he should be in the broadcasting
business. He was telling whom-ever he was talking with
something about "a thousand marbles." I was intrigued and
stopped to listen to what he had to say
"Well, Tom, it sure sounds like you're busy with your job.
I'm sure they pay you well but it's a shame you have to be
away from home and your family so much. Hard to believe a
young fellow should have to work sixty or seventy hours a
week to make ends meet. It's too bad you missed your
daughter's "dance recital" he continued. "Let me tell you
something that has helped me keep my own priorities." And
that's when he began to explain his theory of a "thousand
"You see, I sat down one day and did a little arithmetic. The average person lives about seventy-five years. I know,
some live more and some live less, but on average, folks
live about seventy-five years.
"Now then, I multiplied 75 times 52 and I came up with
3900, which is the number of Saturdays that the average
person has in their entire lifetime. Now, stick with me,
Tom, I'm getting to the important part.
It took me until I was fifty-five years old to think about
all this in any detail", he went on, "and by that time I had
lived through over twenty-eight hundred Saturdays." "I got
to thinking that if I lived to be seventy-five, I only had
about a thousand of them left to enjoy. So I went to a toy
store and bought every single marble they had. I ended up
having to visit three toy stores to round up 1000 marbles. I
took them home and put them inside a large, clear plastic
container right here in the shack next to my gear."
"Every Saturday since then, I have taken one marble out and
thrown it away. I found that by watching the marbles
diminish, I focused more on the really important things in life.
There is nothing like watching your time here on this earth
run out to help get your priorities straight."
"Now let me tell you one last thing before I sign-off with
you and take my lovely wife out for breakfast. This morning,
I took the very last marble out of the container. I figure
that if I make it until next Saturday then I have been given
a little extra time. And the one thing we can all use is a
little more time."
"It was nice to meet you Tom, I hope you spend more time
with your family, and I hope to meet you again here on the
band. This is a 75 Year old Man, K9NZQ, clear and going
QRT, good morning!"
You could have heard a pin drop on the band when this fellow
signed off. I guess he gave us all a lot to think about. I
had planned to work on the antenna that morning, and then I
was going to meet up with a few hams to work on the next
Instead, I went upstairs and woke my wife up with a kiss.
"C'mon honey, I'm taking you and the kids to breakfast."
"What brought this on?" she asked with a smile. "Oh, nothing
special, it's just been a long time since we spent a
Saturday together with the kids. And hey, can we stop at a
toy store while we're out? I need to buy some marbles.
Saturday, November 18, 2006
Thursday, November 16, 2006
It came to me when I was about 13.
Every Friday night, we went to Georgetown University, D.C., for their Born Again Christian Fellowship. This was during the Charismatic Movement of the 70's, the Auditorium was always packed with hundreds of people. I was a new believer as far as being born again. I'd had a strict Catholic upbringing but it left me empty and felt impersonal in many ways.
In that room, came a heavenly sound, like no other. During that Service/Meeting, a good portion of those in that room began to pray in tongues. It then became almost lyrical, musical and I've never, ever heard anything like it since.
They say that speaking in tongues, is a gift and I prayed for this gift. They also say, that it is a language only God can understand, unless you have the gift of Interpretation. I also believe that, my prayers can not be hijacked by Satan/HaSatan, when I pray in tongues and the prayers come straight from the depths of my soul. I don't know about you but Satan often attacks me while I pray. Or he distracts me with noise and I seem to be only going through a ritual, not really feeling my prayers and communing with God. But it's been a long long time, since I prayed in tongues and I don't know why?
After reading my own post on praying in Tongues, the scientific and medical aspects of the unexplained, the brain during prayer in tongues, I lay there in my bed, before sleep, praying. Most times, I fall asleep praying. I've not had the constant nightmares I used to have, since I adopted this prayer time before slumber.
I am plagued with worry, most often, about my Granddaughter, Kassandra. She has Cystic Fibrosis. I've not seen Kassandra since she was a toddler. Back then, they had to beat her in the chest, back and sides with this cookie cutter looking thing. It was made of a hard foam, similar to something you would cut out biscuits with and it had a handle, to hold between your fingers. Kassandra would just cry, every time this was done and then just sob. The mental picture, of her sobbing, tears rolling down her little cheeks, rocks me to this day. That is the picture I get most nights as I begin my prayers and once again ask God to just allow her to breath one more night.
At The Foot Of The Cross
I covered up, settled in, distracted but was really trying to pray so I could go to sleep. I really didn't want to think any more that night. Something, my Spirit suggested praying in tongues. It enveloped me. I was tired as I crawled into bed but my Spirit woke right up. I stopped thinking and just let it go. My mind went blank but yet I was hearing myself steadily praying in tongues. My mind blackened. Suddenly, in my mind, I was at the foot of the cross. It was so real and I could feel loose dirt on my knees, I could even smell it. I knew where I was and I looked up and saw my Lord hanging there, caked in blood, he raised his brow at me. My tongue was praying so fast and suddenly I began to sob.I actually fought not to cry so hard but could not control it. It was as if I had a death in my family, that was the pain I suddenly felt, that, untouchable pain and I knew I was sobbing for my Lord. I tried to look at Him and I could not bear to look. The suffering was too much to look at, the pain was too much to bear. Then, the correlation was completely clear to me and a calm began to set back into me. I realized that I had actually had a death in my family. It was my Lord and he had died for me. We hear and say those exact words, all the time. But I felt it. I was there and I was in mourning. Are you hearing me? I was there at the foot of the cross and I knew he was up there for me. It was a personal death, just for me, not in a selfish way but I could feel and I knew the importance and magnitude of his death and it was for me.
I cried myself to sleep. At the same time, it was a huge release and a huge understanding of the immense meaning of my Lord dieing for me. I also understood the sacrifice of my Father for allowing his son to take on the weight of sin, the weight of the world. God could have easily obliterated the world but he chose to allow his son to die for me. For me! I can't really explain it all but I now know. Yes, I know. Pray for your gifts. I want you to have this too!
I Corinthians 14:2-20
2For anyone who speaks in a tongue[a] does not speak to men but to God. Indeed, no one understands him; he utters mysteries with his spirit.[b] 3But everyone who prophesies speaks to men for their strengthening, encouragement and comfort. 4He who speaks in a tongue edifies himself, but he who prophesies edifies the church. 5I would like every one of you to speak in tongues,[c] but I would rather have you prophesy. He who prophesies is greater than one who speaks in tongues,[d] unless he interprets, so that the church may be edified.
6Now, brothers, if I come to you and speak in tongues, what good will I be to you, unless I bring you some revelation or knowledge or prophecy or word of instruction? 7Even in the case of lifeless things that make sounds, such as the flute or harp, how will anyone know what tune is being played unless there is a distinction in the notes? 8Again, if the trumpet does not sound a clear call, who will get ready for battle? 9So it is with you. Unless you speak intelligible words with your tongue, how will anyone know what you are saying? You will just be speaking into the air. 10Undoubtedly there are all sorts of languages in the world, yet none of them is without meaning. 11If then I do not grasp the meaning of what someone is saying, I am a foreigner to the speaker, and he is a foreigner to me. 12So it is with you. Since you are eager to have spiritual gifts, try to excel in gifts that build up the church.
13For this reason anyone who speaks in a tongue should pray that he may interpret what he says. 14For if I pray in a tongue, my spirit prays, but my mind is unfruitful. 15So what shall I do? I will pray with my spirit, but I will also pray with my mind; I will sing with my spirit, but I will also sing with my mind. 16If you are praising God with your spirit, how can one who finds himself among those who do not understand[e] say "Amen" to your thanksgiving, since he does not know what you are saying? 17You may be giving thanks well enough, but the other man is not edified.
18I thank God that I speak in tongues more than all of you. 19But in the church I would rather speak five intelligible words to instruct others than ten thousand words in a tongue.
20Brothers, stop thinking like children. In regard to evil be infants, but in your thinking be adults.
- 1 Corinthians 14:2 Or another language; also in verses 4, 13, 14, 19, 26 and 27
- 1 Corinthians 14:2 Or by the Spirit
- 1 Corinthians 14:5 Or other languages; also in verses 6, 18, 22, 23 and 39
- 1 Corinthians 14:5 Or other languages; also in verses 6, 18, 22, 23 and 39
- 1 Corinthians 14:16 Or among the inquirers
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
I think these gifts are readily available to us, God willing. Seek and you will find. I found this very interesting, to say the least!
The passionate, sometimes rhythmic, language-like patter that pours forth from religious people who “speak in tongues” reflects a state of mental possession, many of them say. Now they have some neuroscience to back them up.
The Measurement of Regional Cerebral Blood Flow During Glossolalia: A Preliminary SPECT Study (Psychiatry Research: Neuroimaging)
Researchers at the University of Pennsylvania took brain images of five women while they spoke in tongues and found that their frontal lobes — the thinking, willful part of the brain through which people control what they do — were relatively quiet, as were the language centers. The regions involved in maintaining self-consciousness were active. The women were not in blind trances, and it was unclear which region was driving the behavior.
To read the rest...
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Don't wait till the 11th hour to repent...you might die at 10:30!!!
I happen to believe that my God is a loving God. I also believe he forgives me. He created me and he knows the very nature of my being, does He not? We were given free will because he wants us to choose him and respect his law.
The difference in being religious or a Spiritual person, like myself, I believe is two-fold;
I am not perfect but realize that if I am trying, I have only to go to the Lord for forgiveness. Being Spiritual, I also realize that the guilt associated with my non-perfection, does not come from God.
I don't believe that my Lord places blame and guilt in my heart. Actually, I believe it is Satan/HaSatan that does his very best to point the finger at me. When you have a burden of guilt, it can weigh you down and break you.
I can remember a time in my life where I ran from God because I didn't feel I could measure up and be "good." I still suffer from this dilemma, as we all do but now I realize that I can choose to try to do right and respect the Law, the Laws of God. I am no longer running. I am a hopeless sinner, I stand convicted of every single crime, I've committed against my Lord. But I have only to ask forgiveness and my Lord and Savior, who died on the cross for my sins, will forgive me. He died for MY sins, not just the religious, stone throwing zealots, you know the ones that are so good at pointing out MY sin? With a true heart and true emotion, I ask for forgiveness. His divine grace and mercy is given to ME! I continually sin. Every day, in every way, I manage to pull off another bonehead sin. Christ/Yeshua died for me but that doesn't give me a license to sin and do what I want. No, in fact, it holds me accountable, doesn't it? Now, I can only try to do right, try harder and try to learn from my mistakes along the way. This is the true Spiritual Journey.
It is really important for us to realize that Satan is a liar. He will do his best to make us feel just horrible because we can't measure up. The only person to ever measure up is Christ himself and in his perfectness, he gave his very life for me. I don't deserve it but there's a fine line there that Satan uses every single gosh darn day to remind me that I am unworthy. Satan does his darnedest to really make me feel so awful, such a pile of dung and garbage. He's a tricky bugger, a counterfeit kind a guy who will cause you to ruin your life with drugs and crime, all to shut up the pain. But he also dishes out the pain and meets out the insult to injury of every day life. He doesn't want to see me happy in Christ. Oh no, he wants me for his dirty work. He had me at one point because I had a mixed up sense of religion. No more Satan. I am a daughter of God, Bat and you will not step on me, hold me down or try to kill me anymore. I'm not working for you ever again.
I just love this story. It is a re-post from last February.
I'M JUST GRATEFUL TO LEARN THIS LESSONDart Test...
THIS IS A POWERFUL MESSAGE. PLEASE READ ALL OF IT. I AM PASSING IT ON BECAUSE I AM CERTAINLY NOT ASHAMED TO DO SO.
In light of the many jokes we send to one another for a laugh, this is a little different: This is not intended to be a joke, it's not funny, it's intended to get you thinking...
A young lady named Sally, relates an experience she had in a seminary class, given by her teacher, Dr. Smith. She says that Dr. Smithwas known for his elaborate object lessons.One particular day, Sally walked into the seminary and knew they were in for a fun day.On the wall was a big target and on a nearby table were many darts. Dr.Smithtold the students to draw a picture of someone that they disliked or someone who had made them angry, and he would allow them to throw darts at the person's picture. Sally's friend drew a picture of who had stolen her boyfriend. Another friend drew a picture of his little brother. Sally drew a picture of a former friend, putting a great deal of detail into her drawing, even drawing pimples on the face. Sally was pleased with the overall effect she had achieved.The class lined up and began throwing darts. Some of the students threw their darts with such force that their targets were ripping apart. Sally looked forward to her turn, and was filled with disappointment when Dr. Smith, because of time limits, asked the students to return to their seats. As Sally sat thinking about how angry she was because she didn't have a chance to throw any darts at her target. Dr. Smith began removing the target from the wall.Underneath the target was a picture of Jesus. A hush fell over the room as each student viewed the mangled picture of Jesus; holes and jagged marks covered His face and His eyes were pierced. Dr.Smith said only these words... "In as much as ye have done it unto the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto Me."Matthew 25:40.No other words were necessary; the tears filled eyes of the students focused only on the picture of Christ. This is an easy test; you score 100 or zero. It's your choice!!
Monday, November 06, 2006
Arlington National Cemetery.
Rest easy, sleep well my brothers.
Know the line has held, your job is done.
Rest easy, sleep well.
Others have taken up where you fell, the line has held.
Peace, peace, and farewell...
Readers may be interested to know that these wreaths -- some 5,000
-- are donated by the Worcester Wreath Co. of Harrington, Maine.
The owner, Merrill Worcester, not only provides the wreaths, but
covers the trucking expense as well. He's done this since 1992 .. A
wonderful guy. Also, most years, groups of Maine school kids
combine an educational trip to DC with this event to help out.
Making this even more remarkable is the fact that Harrington is in
one the poorest parts of the state.
(Courtesy of Wysteria)
You are the Great Physician, my Lord. I believe you will heal her, if you choose. May it glorify your Holy Name. My Savior, when I have a hard time breathing, as I often do, I am always reminded of Kassandra and how hard it must be for her. Ease her suffering. Clear out her lungs and all that mucous in her system. She does not deserve to be punished for the sins of the Father or the Mother or even me. She was just a little baby gasping for air. Please my Lord, deliver her from all these symptoms. I believe if you choose to do this, it will be, in the blink of an eye. I ask all this in Jesus/Yeshua's name. Praise you Lord!
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
It occurred to me, as I watched the history of Satan / HaSatan, on the History Channel, that my life, my quest, my destiny was much like Job from the Bible. Ever had one of those,"Ah Ha," moments? This was one of them for me.
As a child, I was extremely religious. As a child, I was extremely aggravated by Satan. I developed a criminal mind at a very young age. I do believe I was always mature for my age but I was diabolical and used my intelligence for the wrong side. Thank you Satan for trying to ruin my life, you almost succeeded.
Satan was in my life from the gate. He planted people and situations in my life, all along. The police even told me, upon my arrest, that what I'd done was extremely intricate and intelligent. The DEA offered me time off of my sentence, if I told them how I did things. They said if I'd used my "smarts for good, I could be a rocket scientist." I'm not glorifying what I did, don't get me wrong, I am simply pointing out just how powerful Satan is.
There was a time in my life that I even wanted to be a nun. Not realizing the power of Satan in my life, when I could no longer be a "good girl" and please my family and believe me I tried, I chose to be "really good at being bad." I was a true professional at that. Satan aided and abetted me the whole time. He gave me ideas and I did things most people would never dream of doing, much less a woman. I had no fear and what little fear I had, I would face head on, except the one thing I feared the most; God. I ran as hard and as fast as I could from God in my head. I tried my very best to shut up my spirit/conscience and often succeeded. Drugs were real good at shutting it up, along with emotional and physical pain. I became an addict with the very best of them. Heroin is the word, the name that calls me and haunts me everyday.
He lied, cheated and stole from me. Satan did his very best to kill me. I have Hep C and he's already taken my husband from me due to Hep C. He'd love nothing more than for me to sidle up to him and take that backwards step, into addiction, into the abyss that exists for some of us.
But guess what Satan? I am onto you. I am a Warrior and I can smell you when you come into the room. Be gone from me and my family in the name of Jesus Christ, my Lord and Savior. Yes, I will praise his name all the days of my life. I will utter His name, Yeshua upon my dieing breath. You have lost, move on!
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
Billy Graham and Oprah
Last year I watched Billy Graham being interviewed by Oprah Winfrey on
television. Oprah told him that in her childhood home, she use to watch him
preach on a little black and white TV while sitting on a linoleum floor.
She went on to the tell viewers that in his lifetime Billy has preached to
twenty-million people around the world, not to mention the countless numbers
who have heard him whenever his crusades are broadcast. When she asked if he
got nervous before facing a crowd, Billy replied humbly, "No, I don't get
nervous before crowds, but I did today before I was going to meet with you."
Oprah's show is broadcast to twenty-million people every day. She is
comfortable with famous stars and celebrities but seemed in awe of Dr. Billy
When the interview ended, she told the audience, "You don't often See this
on my show, but we're going to pray." Then she asked Billy to close in
prayer. The camera panned the studio audience as they bowed their heads and
closed their eyes just like in one of his crusades.
Oprah sang the first line from the song that is his hallmark "Just as I am,
without a plea," misreading the line and singing off'-key, but her voice was
full of emotion and almost cracked.
When Billy stood up after the show, instead of hugging her guest, Oprah's
usual custom, she went over and just nestled against him. Billy wrapped his
arm around her and pulled her under his shoulder. She stood in his fatherly
embrace with a look of sheer contentment..
I once read the book "Nestle, Don't Wrestle" by Corrie Ten Boom. The power
of nestling was evident on the TV screen that day. Billy Graham was not the
least bit condemning, distant, or hesitant to embrace a public personality
who may not fit the evangelistic mold. His grace and courage are sometimes
In an interview with Hugh Downs, on the 20/20 program, the subject turned to
homosexuality. Hugh looked directly at Billy and said, "If you had a
homosexual child, would you love him?" Billy didn't miss a beat. He replied
with sincerity and gentleness, "Why, I would love that one even more."
The title of Billy's autobiography, "Just As I Am," says it all. His life
goes before him speaking as eloquently as that charming southern drawl for
which he is known.
If, when I am eighty years old, my autobiography were to be titled "Just As
I Am," I wonder how I would live now? Do I have the courage to be me? I'll
never be a Billy Graham, the elegant man who draws people to the Lord
through a simple one-point message, but I hope to be a person who is real
and compassionate and who might draw people to nestle within God's embrace.
Do you make it a point to speak to a visitor or person who shows up alone at
church, buy a hamburger for a homeless man, call your mother on Sunday
afternoons, pick daisies with a little girl, or take a fatherless boy to a
Did anyone ever tell you how beautiful you look when you're looking for
what's beautiful in someone else?
Billy complimented Oprah when asked what he was most thankful for; he said,
"Salvation given to us in Jesus Christ" then added, "and the way you have
made people all over this country aware of the power of being grateful."
When asked his secret of love, being married fifty-four years to the same
person, he said, "Ruth and I are happily incompatible."
How unexpected. We would all live more comfortably with everybody around us
if we would find the strength in being grateful and happily incompatible.
Let's take the things that set us apart, that make us different, that cause
us to disagree, and make them an occasion to compliment each other and be
thankful for each other. Let us be big enough to be smaller than our
neighbor, spouse, friends, and strangers.
Every day, may we Nestle, not Wrestle!
Thursday, October 19, 2006
Heavenly Father, Help us remember that the jerk who cut us off in traffic last night is a single mother who worked nine hours that day and is rushing home to cook dinner, help with homework, do the laundry and spend a few precious moments with her children.
Help us to remember that the pierced, tattooed, disinterested young man who can't make change correctly is a worried 19-year-old college student, balancing his apprehension over final exams with his fear of not getting his student loans for next semester.
Remind us, Lord, that the scary looking bum, begging for money in the same spot every day (who really ought to get a job!) is a slave to addictions that we can only imagine in our worst nightmares.
Help us to remember that the old couple walking annoyingly slow through the store aisles and blocking our shopping progress are savoring this moment, knowing that, based on the biopsy report she got back last week, this will be the last year that they go shopping together
Heavenly Father, remind us each day that, of all the gifts you give us, the greatest gift is love. It is not enough to share that love with those we hold dear.
Open our hearts not to just those that are close to us, but to all humanity.
Let us be slow to judge and quick to forgive, show patience, empathy and love.
(Courtesy of Cat Lambe)
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
You may remember he was stuck in Georgia, had been having seizures, had no money or food.
I cried out from the depths of my soul and The Heavenly Father heard me. Waylon is now in Iowa, got a good job on day two, has not had a seizure since, has an apartment and all is well in his world. I could not ask for more.
Lord, I am so grateful and I feel these blessings. It was no coincidence but all within your realm of miracles and blessings. I know this and I thank you. You are truly an Awesome God!
Sunday, September 24, 2006
I cried out from the depths of my soul for help for him. Jesus/Yeshua listened. Waylon is safe, in Iowa, got a job on day two and is doing well. I pray for his deliverance from these seizures and whatever is causing it. Lord, I am so grateful. What are you grateful for?
He had no degree, yet they called Him Teacher.
He had no medicine, yet they called Him Healer.
Had no army, yet He conquered the world.
He commited no crime, yet they crucified Him.
He was buried in a tomb, yet he lives today.
Remember to sing praises and be grateful to serve such an awesome God!
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
Just close you're eyes and open your heart
- and feel you're worries and cares depart
- just yeild yourself to the father above
- and let him hold you secure in his love
- For life on earth grows more involved
- with endless problems that cant be solved
- But God only asks us to do our best
- then he will take over and finish the rest
- So when you are tired,discouraged and blue
- there is always one door that is open to you
- And that is the door to the house of prayer
- you'll find God waiting to meet you there
- and the house of prayer is no further away
- than the quiet spot where you kneel and pray
- For the heart is a temple when God is there
- as we place ourselves in his loving care
- And he hears every prayer and answers each one
- When we pray in his name thy will be done
- The burdens that seem to heavy to bear
- are lifted away on the wings of a prayer.
(Courtesy of Brandilynn)
Saturday, September 16, 2006
If you put a buzzard in a pen that is 6 feet by 8 feet and is entirely open at the top, the bird, in spite of its ability to fly, will be an absolute prisoner. The reason is that a buzzard always begins a flight from the ground with a run of 10 to >12 feet. Without space to run, as is its habit, it will not even attempt to >fly, but will remain a prisoner for life in a small jail with no top.
The ordinary bat that flies around at night, a remarkably nimble creature in the air, cannot take off from a level place If it is placed on the floor or flat ground, all it can do is shuffle about helplessly and, no doubt, painfully, until it reaches some slight elevation from which it can throw itself into the air. Then, at once, it takes off like a flash.
A bumblebee, if dropped into an open tumbler, will be there until it dies, unless it is taken out. It never sees the means of escape at the top, but persists in trying to find some way out through the sides near the bottom. It will seek a way where none exists, until it completely destroys itself.
In many ways, we are like the buzzard, the bat, and the bumblebee. We struggle about with all our problems and frustrations, never realizing that all we have to do is look up. Sorrow looks back, worry looks around, but faith looks up
Have a great day and keep looking up.
(Courtesy Teri O'Dwyer-Kemp, my beloved Step-Mom)
Thursday, September 07, 2006
(I thank my friend, Cat Lambe for sending this to me!)
Sunday, September 03, 2006
My youngest son Waylon,(WAM) had gone out with a crew that sells magazines.It's a way to travel and see the country, basically a rolling party. To see the country and not have to join the Army to do it.
At first, a very large crew, it began to widdle down, when their original Manager left and Waylon's friend, Jamie took over. The new Manager, Jamie, was a childhood friend of Waylon's and was not doing more than laying around, partying and they weren't getting paid. They were stuck in Nashville,TN.. After three days of this and not eating, they left that manager, Jamie, and went with another crew down in Georgia. Wam had not had to knock doors selling. He was Assistant to the manager, the first one. But now had to knock on doors selling magazines until they built up the crew and the money in their draw. They would normally get $10 to $20 a day if the sales weren't good until they built up their draw. Hotel or Motel rooms had to be paid for and food, gas and the expenses were now outweighing what they were bringing in. The first day out Waylon sold three accounts and was able to get something to eat and cigarettes. Day two he sold nothing and got nothing.
Day three,in the mid morning heat, he was in a woman's house and had a Grand Mal seizure. The woman was able to get him in the car, once he began to come out of it and drive him the three minutes to the Hospital in Chattanooga.Thank God for good women!
Apparently, Wam had been having these seizures for a few months. He had two at his nieces home, before he went out on the road. He blew it off and credited it with partying or whatever. He only told me he'd passed out and that he could feel it coming on and could say nothing. I told him to go to the hospital and so on but he blew it off. Until he had this possibly 5 th seizure in Georgia or Tennessee, I never knew that, in fact, it'd happened again when they traveled to Niagera Falls, before all this. He'd cracked his chin open when he fell out in the bathroom and struck his chin on the toilet. He also reminded me of a time, it'd happened to him as a teenager and possible other times. I'd found him on the floor of the kitchen and assumed he was all high on something and made him get up and go to his room, actually chewing him out. He had no reason to lie to me at this point and told me, now that he could recognize what had happened, he'd had a seizure. I felt horrible, well horrible's not the word.
This kind woman took him to the hospital and they tested his sugar and it wasn't that.They confirmed that he had, in fact, had the worst of seizures, "Grand Mal". They gave him a referal to a Neurologist and sent him on his way. He had to walk back to the neighborhood he'd been in when he fell out. His new Manager drove by and he sat in the van for a little while and they sent him back out in the Georgia heat to sell magazines. He'd had a minute left on a calling card and called me that night and told me to call him the next morning.He sold nothing that day and got nothing.
I called the next morning and he replayed the previous days events to me. Now, day three with nothing to eat. He'd only eaten once in the 6 days prior to that. As I was on the phone with him, his Manager came in and told him they were leaving and to come on. He argued with the guy that he was actually sick and needed to go home. He needed to arrange it all. They had no sympathy and I wanted to kill them all. He wouldn't put them on the phone with me and forbid me to call him that night. I was seething. I was livid. I wanted to hurt somebody. Things were all still up in the air that night, as of the last time I spoke with Wam, that night.
He was in the middle of nowhere in Somerville, Georgia and we had to find a way to get him to Chattanooga and get him on a Greyhound. As day 4 dawned, he'd still not eaten. Now, I've not always been a good mother but this is my baby. I breast fed this child until he was 18 months old. We have a very special relationship. Even with all I put them through and visa versa, he along with my two other sons know that I love them unconditionally and I feel they would say the same thing about me. I would, with all certainty kill or take a bullet for any of my children. This was really killing me and I felt my hands were tied.
Day 4, Wam knew that we'd procurred him a ticket with the help of his girlfriend and the Mother of his child to be in Iowa, along with wiring him money. His crew had gone to work that morning, not to return till late that night. The last bus out was at 9:50pm, all the way in Chattanooga, 1+ hours away and the likelihood of him getting on it was close to nil.The next one was not till 3 something the next day. All I could think about was that he'd not eaten and refused to eat myself. If my baby is going without so will I.
Day 4 still, I'd spoke with Waylon on and off all day. He couldn't know anything, concerning a ride to the Greyhound Station, till late that nite. This Manager had not been very cooperative and the outlook was bleak. I even called the Somerville Police Dept. to see if they could somehow take him. They said they could only take him to the county line and drop him off, they weren't helpful either. All I could hope for was that when his Manager came home that nite, he would take him to the bus station the next day.The Managers were known for doing really petty things when a kid requested to go home and would drop them off at the bus station late at night, knowing full well the bus station didn't open until the next morning. They'd have to fend for themselves. I knew this because Wam had even told me he'd been instructed, whether he agreed with it or not, to take the "Winer" and drop them off. I swore then and there if they did that to my son, I'd be in my car by morning and hunt them down. They'd already known me from the time that they'd dropped Wam off in the middle of a Hispanic neighborhood, a year before. It was 100+ degrees out in the middle of summer in Arizona and Wam had called me from a pay phone,collect, as he only had 50 cents on him, not enough to even buy a cold drink. They'd dropped him off at 9am and it was now 4pm. His mouth was so dry , I could tell his voice was strained. All he wanted was for me to make a phone call to his boss to please pick him up. He'd had nothing to eat since breakfast the day before. I called Jamie and it sounded like I'd woke him. I'm not sure exactly what I said but apparently I made it very clear to him that I was going to kill him. He told everybody that I said I was going to stab him and,"slit his throat and let him bleed out, like the pig he was." I don't remember saying it.
The 1st miracle happened that day.
My best friend Rene' lived in the very next town. She'd known Waylon since he was little, as her children and mine were the best of friends. Her husband and mine were best friends. We were like Sisters and she ran to pick Waylon up. He was in the worst Hispanic area in Phoenix trying to sell magazines. He'd had 2 years of Spanish under his belt from High School but I can't say he excelled in the class. He could cuss you out like a veteran but to sell mags, doubtful at best.
What are the odds, that my best friend lives right there in the next town my son is stranded in? Miracle One!
Back to the dilemma...
Frustration had worn me down. I was attending to my nephew and I do think he could sense my stress and was acting out too. He was bouncing off the walls all day, shouting, screaming and doing his very best to make me crazy. I had told Waylon that I would have to call him back after I got my nephew duct taped to his bed. Not really but at the time it seemed like a reasonable thing to do. Still day four and I had to ready myself for the morning as I had training at 10AM. I was emotionally exhausted and even got short with my Step-Father on the phone.My Dad was trying to talk sense to the unsensable and was really honing in on Waylons faults, etc. At that moment, my Motherly instincts couldn't and wouldn't hear anything about tough love or what he needed to do with his life and what he'd done wrong to get himself in another jam. I wasn't disrespectful but I was real irritated and curt.Everything Dad was saying was true, right and just but at that moment I wanted the love of Jesus/Yeshua for my son, not Fire and Brimstone.
The next time I tried to call Wam, the phone at the motel was busy. I'd called so much I think they took it off the hook. I was never able to get through that night.
I prayed fervently for an answer. Such frustration, so much anger and pain. I cried from the depths of my soul. And God was listening.
I had to be in training at 10am, as I said and woke early. I waited till 9am and called Waylon in his Motel room. His manager had agreed to go to Chattanooga and work and drop Waylon off at the bus station. He'd have to wait out the day there but at least he didn't have to sleep wherever till the station opened.
Then he told me about Dusty. A year before, he'd met the friend of the Owner of the Magazine Company. Dusty was a kindly old fella and had heard that the crew that was now in Somerville included Waylon. He'd only met Waylon once, over a year before. So, Dusty, on a whim, drove out to the motel he'd heard they were at.
Waylon remembered him and welcomed him into the room. As they sat there talking, briefly, just chatting about nothing, Dusty asked Waylon,"Are ya Hungry son?" They'd not even talked about anything except the fact that they'd left Jamie in Nashville. Waylon answered ,"Sure," and Dusty reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a Chicken Wrap from Burger King. With a huge grin, he handed it to Waylon and they just went on with there conversation for just a few minutes. Just as quickly as he'd appeared, Dusty left with the usual, "Take care of yourself, son" good-byes and generalities.
How many people do you know that walk around with a chicken wrap in their jackets? What made this guy come all the way out there, in the middle of nowhere, late at night, just to say Hi to a guy he's met once, a year ago?
It's when we quit believing in luck, coincidence and magic, that we begin to see the little miracles and a divine plan. This was a miracle and if you can't see it, you're blind!