Sunday, September 24, 2006


When I cried out for mercy, he delivered. My youngest son, Waylon has been having seizures. He does not have a history of them. To make a long story short, he was stuck in Georgia with no money and no food.
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?


Jesus had no servants, yet they called Him Master.
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


Thank God for Children Saying Grace...
Last week I took my children to a restaurant. My six-year-old son asked if he could say grace As we bowed our heads he said, "God is good, God is great. Thank you for the food, and I would even thank you more if Mom gets us ice cream for dessert. And Liberty and justice for all! Amen!" Along with the laughter from the other customers nearby I heard a woman remark, "That's what's wrong with this country. Kids today don't even know how to pray. Asking God for ice cream! Why, I never!" Hearing this, my son burst into tears and asked me, "Did I do it wrong? Is God mad at me?"
As I held him and assured him that he had done a terrific job and God was certainly not mad at him, an elderly gentleman approached the table. He winked at my son and said, "I happen to know that God thought that was a great prayer. "Really?" my son asked. "Cross my heart," the man replied. Then in a theatrical whisper he added (indicating the woman whose remark had started this whole thing), "Too bad she never asks God for ice cream. A little ice cream is good for the soul sometimes."
Naturally, I bought my kids ice cream at the end of the meal. My son stared at his for a moment and then did something I will remember the rest of my life. He picked up his sundae and without a word, walked over and placed it in front of the woman. With a big smile he told her, "Here, this is for you. Ice cream is good for the soul sometimes; and my soul is good already."
(I thank my friend, Cat Lambe for sending this to me!)

Sunday, September 03, 2006


Want to restore your faith, refuel and rejuvenate? Read this...

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 w
ith 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 un
conditionally 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 li
ne 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.

Miracle One

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.

Miracle Two

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 S
omerville 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 m
ade 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!