~Mary Frances Writing~

God IS able!!!

2011-09-16T12:47:00.000-07:00

"Mary, I've decided I want to quit smoking and I need your help." These are the words I heard from my newly founded friend Kimberlee Ford this past January. I didn't know what to say at the moment. She had moved into our house the week before. She was new in church and was struggling with living for God. I had watched the past week as my new friend tried to live the Apostolic life, dressing in modest clothes, long skirts and I would do her hair in a Pentecostal up-do, but then she would have to run off for a smoke.

It was so sad to see her trying so hard to live holy, but it was so obvious that she was bound by this addiction. Kim says she felt like she was unclean. Like Adam and Eve in the garden, she had to hide herself from God because of her failure, hindering her from close relationship. Its hard to really feel holy with a cloud of smoke around you and the stink of nicotine all over you. She had already overcome so much. Ten years of hard core drug use on meth she had overcome, but she couldn't manage to break away from smoking.

"It had such a strong hold on me," says Kim. "Even back in the day when I was on drugs, when it came between my drugs or cigarettes I chose cigarettes." I really wanted to see her overcome this in her life and a part of me was really happy that she wanted so badly to change, but at the same time I was scared. How could I help her? I have heard so many testimonies of God delivering people from smoking, yet I had my doubts.

See my father, for as long as I can remember has been addicted to cigarettes. He always hid it from us a children, but I remember the day as a little girl that I found out my daddy smoked. My heart was crushed. I was so sad, but more than anything, I was scared! Smoking was BAD!!! Did this mean daddy wouldn't go to heaven? Over and over again my dad would try to quit smoking, but after a few weeks he would give in and go back. Eventually, he let this, along with other addictions pull him completely out of church. So even though, I had other friends that God had delivered I still had my doubts. I didn't want what had happened to my dad to happen to Kim. I didn't want to see cigarettes destroy my friends walk with God.

So when Kim told me she wanted to quit smoking, which was like the 6th attempt since she had gotten the Holy Ghost and been baptized in Jesus name 8 months earlier, all I could think of was my dad. My dad had been in church for a while and still smoked, just like Kim. My dad had already been baptized in Jesus name, just like Kim. My father had the Holy Ghost, just like Kim. My father FULLY believed then and still does to this day, the One God, Apostolic doctrine, he just couldn't overcome this addiction, JUST LIKE KIM.

However, I knew I couldn't let Kim see my doubts and unbelief. I really didn't know what to do or how to help her so I just told her the only thing I knew to do. I firmly told her that if she wanted to quit smoking, the only way she would be able to overcome it was through prayer. I wasn't going to push her to quit smoking. I knew that it had to be through God's prompting and completely her own decision. So after we talked about it, I didn't bring it up.

The next morning Kim brought it up again. She said that this was the day she was going to quit smoking. She bought nicotine patches that she was going to wear and she said that she had one cigarette left, she was going to go outside and smoke it, because she didn't want to be wasteful, then her and I were going to pray together. Now, I had my doubts with her reasoning to smoke her one, last cigarette because she didn't want to wasteful, since I had watched her in the few days that she lived with us, throw out quite a few Cokes because they were no longer cold or they had gone flat... BUT something told me just to keep my mouth shut, so I did. :)

After her last smoke, she came in and the two of us knelt down together in the living room and prayed. It wasn't a long prayer, but it was sincere from both of our hearts. We held hands when we started, then with tears of desperation streaming down her cheeks, she lifted her hands towards heaven and begged God to once again help her overcome this addiction in her life. After about a ten minute prayer I told her that whenever she felt like giving in and smoking, to come to me and we would do the ONLY thing I knew to do to help her;PRAY!!! Then we hugged and went on our day.

It wasn't to long before she came to me and said that she was really craving a cigarette. So I was like, Okay then, lets pray. We stopped whatever we were doing, held hands and prayed for God to take away this craving, then we just went on our day. Now you have to understand, I seemed calm and confident about this but inside I was really having my doubts and wondering how long this was going to last. Its not that I wanted to be negative, I was just being human, yet I KNEW that God really did have the power to deliver her and the only thing I knew how to do was PRAY.

It had been five days since Kim had quit smoking, almost a week. We were so excited and my faith was really growing. God was going to do this. He was really going to deliver my friend from smoking. On this 5th day since quitting, Kim went to work with her with her mom cleaning houses. When she came home that day I didn't notice anything different, but as soon as she saw me she was like, well I'm not gonna lie, I smoked today.

I felt so disapointed and my faith was crushed. Inside I was screaming, WHAT? WHY? Ugh! JUST LIKE MY DAD! But all I said was, "oh ok." and I calmly asked, "what happened?" She was like, I don't know, my mom was smoking and I just missed it. So I took one of her cigarettes and smoked it. Now Kim had told me in the past people, not her pastor or anything, but people had gotten really mad at her when she failed in quiting smoking, so I knew my response to her was pretty important, not matter how I was feeling inside. I was just like, oh ok, well its not a big deal, just because you messed up this one time doesn't mean its over, you just keep on going and keep on trying. We've just got to keep praying.

Then i'm like, so does your pastor know yet that you smoked? She was like, Oh yeah he knows! I'm like OH so you called him? She is like, NO! He called me!!! I'm like what??? She is like, yeah I think he must have spys EVERYWHERE!!! I'm like, huh?! WHO TOLD HIM??? She is like, well aparently God!!! I'm like, WHAT for reals??? She is like, yeah, as soon as I was done smoking that cigarette Pastor Lacour called me.
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She said that she tried to be all nonchalant and he was like, "Sis. Kimberlee, how are you doing?" She said, "I'm like, Oh hey Pastor. I'm doing good!" And he was like, "No Sister, how are you really doing?" She said that at that point she knew he must have known so why bother trying to cover it. She said she was just like, "Okay fine, I SMOKED!"

I'm like, WOW!!! So he already knew you smoked? She is like, yeah, aparently Sis. Lacour must have known too because they weren't together at the time and she was texting me as well asking me how I was doing. She is like, I'm telling you Mary, they are so in tune with God. They have Holy Ghost feelers and I promise you Pastor Lacour has the best antenas EVER!!! I mean, when I mess up I pretty much just tell him, I mean there is no point in hiding it, he already knows anyways.
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I'm just like WOW!!! So he already knew you had smoked before you even told him?! NO WAY, that is like SOOOO COOL!!! She just looks at me and is like, uh NO not really! NOT FOR ME at least!!! Then we totally just bust up laughing.

I'm like KIM, I mean it, ANYTIME you feel an urge, no matter what, wherever we are, tell me and we WILL PRAY!!! And let me tell you something, that is EXACLTEY what we did. We stocked up on gummy worms and junk food to help Kim's cravings. It looked like a candy store and bakery shop had exploded in our pantry and WE ALL gained some weight that month. I gave her books to read for when she was bored and sometimes if we weren't together she would have me hold on to her driver's license and any cash she had on her so she couldn't even buy cigarettes if she wanted to, BUT most of all we JUST PRAYED!!!

If we weren't together she would call me and we prayed over the phone. One time we were apart and I couldn't talk on the phone so we prayed through text. IF for some reason she couldn't get in touch with me, every time she said either her pastor or pastor's wife would just happen to call her. One time we were grocery shopping together at Frys and she was just like, "Mary, I have such an urge to just go smoke." I was like, ok you know what we gotta do and we stopped right there in the middle of the grocery store, employees and customers gaping at us, we held hands and we prayed once again for God to take away that craving and deliever her from smoking.

You may be thinking praying over the phone? Praying through text? Praying in the middle of the grocery store??? THATS CRAZY!!! Your right, it IS CRAZY!!! But you know what??? IT WORKED!!! She made it a whole week without smoking, then two weeks, three weeks, then one day I was looking at her box of nicotine patches on the counter and I noticed how full the box was. I'm like, oh have you even been using those? She was like, No, I forgot one time to wear it and since I made it without it, I just decided to keep on not using them. I was like, COOL!

The weeks turned into a month, then two months, She told me that sometimes when she walked by an ash tray at work or at the store and she would see those used cigarettes, she would just want to grab them and keep them. She said I know that may sound totally gross to most people but thats how she gotten her cigarettes a lot the time when she had been homeless. Then two months turned into three months, she told me that she had no desire to smoke, BUT when she smelled a cigarette, it just smelled soooo good to her. She was just like, Mmmm!

I'm like okaaaaay thats kinda WEIRD but at least she isn't smoking. Soon it was 6 months and just recently, we were walking to our car after some Goodwill shopping and someone was smoking a cigarette and I was like, you told me before that you still loved the smell of cigarettes and when you smelled them you were just like, Mmmm! Do you still feel that way? She was like, "ACTUALLY, now when I even smell a cigarette it makes me want to PUKE!!!" I was like YES!!! Hearing those words come out of her mouth made me sooooo HAPPY!! It was like pure, joyful music to my ears!

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"It feels like my biggest obsacle in life is over," says Kim. She says that she never thought she would be able to quit, but through God's power in prayer she did. The Bible says, "I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me." (Philippians 4:12) I'm telling you all, Kimberlee Ford was bound! This girl was a chain smoker, 15-30 minutes she had to smoke. First thing in the morning and sometimes in the middle of the night she would go out for a puff, but GOD has fully and completely delivered her.

What God did for Kim, He did for me as well. Although, I have NO IDEA what it is like to be bound by this nasty, filthy habit, my faith has been built by watching God's work unfold before my eyes. I know that truley, NOTHING is to hard for God. I know that what God did for Kim he can do for anyone, even my dad. I know beyond a shadow of doubt that God IS able!!!

If you want to quit, you just have to surrender all the way to God. Give Him full control, complete and totally depend on Him. Don't give up when you fail, keep on going. It is important that you have someone in your life that you can trust and be totally honest with about with your mistakes. The Bible says, "He that covereth his sins shall not prosper: but whoso confesseth and forsaketh them shall have mercy." (Proverbs 28: 13)

Kim's word of advice to anyone that wants to quit is, "GET A PRAYER PARTNER!" Someone that will pray with you continually anytime you need it. You feel a craving so strong you don't think you'll be able to overcome it, you go to this person and you pray together. You may think you that you can do it on your own but if you can't just remember you are stronger when you pray TOGETHER!!! "Two are better than one; because they have a good reward for their labour. For if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow: but woe to him that is alone when he falleth; for he hath not another to help him up." (Ecclesiastes 4: 10)

You, your prayer partner and Jesus bound tightly together and your gonna overcome whatever obstacle is in your life. "...and a threefold cord is not quickly broken." (Ecclesiastes 4:12)

Kim says...

"My chains are broken!"

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♥Mary Frances :)

When She Found Him

2010-10-15T17:19:00.000-07:00

While she thinks her mother isn’t looking, she leaps happily from sofa to sofa, her Super Woman cape, a towel tied around her neck, flying in the air behind her. From the very beginning Marie Orozco says that her daughter Lorraine always loved to sing. One time, at two years of age Lorraine got lost in a department store. Marie found her little two-year-old by listening to her little voice singing the theme song to The Brady Bunch under some clothing rack. By three years old, Lorraine was a very happy and energetic little girl. Clearly her parent’s, Santiago and Marie Orozco adored her. She was her daddy’s little princess and her mamma’s whole world.

Everything changed in the Orozco household one Christmas Eve. It started out as a joyous occasion. Lorraine’s aunt, one of her mom’s sisters was getting married. Lorraine was one of the flower girls. Lorraine says she doesn’t remember much of the actual wedding itself. Just that her and her cousin were wearing matching red dresses and she distinctly remembers that even back then she was not fond of the color red and would have preferred to be wearing pink or purple. When it was actually time for her and her cousin to go down the aisle, instead of slowly, gracefully walking down the aisle like they were supposed to, they ran.

After the wedding everyone went to her grandparent’s house for a time of celebration. Lorraine was running around playing with her cousins, screaming and laughing, just carrying on like little 3-year-olds do. As they were playing, Lorraine’s 15-year-old uncle was backing up her grandfather’s pick up truck, loaded with wedding gifts, to the back porch. Little Lorraine decided that she wanted to ride with her uncle in the truck so she just ran behind the truck and grabbed on. However, her uncle never saw her run out and grab a hold to the truck.

Lorraine tried to grab on to the tailgate that was open on the truck. Instead she felt herself being pulled under the truck as it began to back up. Her body began to be crushed under the back tire of the truck. Her face stuck into the ground as dirt and rocks smashed into her eyes, tearing at her flesh. As she lay there, crushed beneath the back tire, she remembers seeing her dad and another uncle tearing out of the house. Lorraine will never forget the look of horror on their faces. They began screaming, waving their arms and yelling frantically for her uncle to back up so they could get her out.

When Marie got word of what had happened, she thought for sure her daughter was dead. She says that when she saw her little girl lying there, she felt an extremely sharp pain in her heart that she has never before or since experienced. She ran over to Lorraine even more horrified by what she saw. Her baby was lying there on the ground, her eyes shut, and her head tilted to one side as blood trickled out of her mouth. As she looked at her precious little baby, all Mommy could do was scream from deep inside the depths of her soul. For a moment everything seemed to freeze. Time stood still. The next thing Marie remembers is frantically running to the house calling 911.

Lorraine’s 15-year-old uncle had absolutely no idea that he had just run over his niece. As soon as he stopped the truck they scooped her up. Daddy carried his broken little princess to the car and she was immediately rushed to the nearest hospital.

That Christmas Eve night, while everyone else was singing Joy to the World, while children everywhere were waiting with great anticipation to open presents in the morning, a little 3-year-old girl lay in her hospital bed in pain, scared and confused. Everyone kept touching her and she could hear whispers, “She can’t move or feel her lower body.” Everyone wanted to pinch her legs to see if she really couldn’t feel them.

As the days passed, the doctors and nurses tried everything they could do to fix her, but it was no use, the lower half of her body had lost all its feeling. Two weeks later she was sent home to face the world in a little silver wheelchair. Never again would she leap from sofa to sofa, never again would she run freely with all her cousins and friends, forever labeled as a cripple, forever known as the girl in the wheelchair. Lorraine Marie Orozco was paralyzed.

However, somewhere in the middle of all the hurt and confusion, Lorraine found solace in what the accident had not taken, her ability to sing. “It was my way of escape, and I thank God for it because no one could take that away from me.” So through it all, little Lorraine continued to sing.

Santiago and Marie were absolutely devastated. They were determined that some way, some how, their little girl was going to walk again. In their desperation they began to try all different things on their daughter to try and make her whole. They took her to every doctor, healer, therapist and specialist known to man. They did everything from creams and pills to shock therapy and even a witch doctor. The Orozcos were desperate, so very desperate to see their little girl walk again. But no matter how hard they tried, nothing ever worked. This only devastated them more. They were determined and desperate to make Lorraine walk again.

However, it was also this very same desperation that drove the Orozcos to the best thing that could happen to them, faith in God. It was at this time in their lives that they began to notice a spiritual desperation inside their hearts. They began to do a Bible study and were astonished by the things that God began to reveal to them. In November of 1984, Santiago and Marie Orozco surrendered their lives to God as they were baptized in Jesus name and soon afterward filled with the Holy Ghost.

Their little girl’s accident had caused them to find Jesus and because they had found Him, they had also found the one could make their daughter would walk again. In their desperation, Santiago and Marie discovered a sure way for their daughter to walk again. By surrendering their lives to God and raising Lorraine in the truth, they made it possible for her, to without a doubt know, that one day, even if it is on the other side, she will walk again.

Today Lorraine is a beautiful woman of God. She just recently celebrated her 24th birthday, for the sixth time. Those that are close to her describe her as strong willed, slightly stubborn, courageous and just overall amazing. She is not afraid to stand in the face of adversity. Her youngest brother Eric says that his sister is one of the strongest people he has ever known. “She just won’t quit,” he says with a laugh. “I think it’s because of her that I have made it to where I am today. When I’ve been at my lowest point, I would think, I can’t quit, because Lori wouldn’t quit.”

One thing about Lorraine is that she has always been determined. Shortly after the accident her parent’s heard of a brace called a recipricator, with crutches, this body brace would allow Lorraine to walk. The brace encased her body and with the proper movements from the top of her body it would move her legs.

Well, one day, when Lorraine was about 6-years old, her family was looking at model homes. While her parent’s were speaking to a sales agent, Lorraine noticed the stairs. As she noticed them, she decided that they looked like fun and she decided that she would like to climb them and so she did. When she got to the top of the stairs, she hollered down to her parent’s, grinning at them proudly. Her parent’s gasped, shocked and surprised to see their little girl who could not walk at the top of the stairs. Of course as proud as they were of her accomplishment, her mom still practically had a heart attack.

It is that same determination in Lorraine has caused her to continually defy the odds in life, also continually giving her mother mini heart attacks along the way. It is determination that has allowed Lorraine too accomplish all that she has in life. It is determination that caused her to graduate from public high school with honors and to sing the national anthem at her graduation. It is determination that pushed her to learn how to drive in high school, just like the rest of her peers. It is determination that made her decide to live independently on the University of Arizona campus. It is determination to live that has brought her through numerous life-threatening back surgeries. It is determination that has cause Lorraine to write two books sharing her life story. It is determination to make a difference in her world that causes her to tell her testimony to others. It is determination that sent her to two years of Bible College in Jackson Mississippi where she studied music sang in the choir and taught Spanish. It is determination that made Lorraine decide to travel across the ocean, to another continent, where most things are not wheelchair accessible, to tour the beauty of England and help share the love of Jesus.

Despite her wheelchair, Lorraine still manages to get in just as much shopping as any other girl. She loves hair accessories, cute purses and has a fetish with multiple pairs of glasses and sunglasses. She has a passion for Starbucks and firmly believes they should stay open 24 hours a day. Blogging, Facebook, twitter, emails, texting, long phone conversations, Lorraine does it all. She enjoys making tamales with her family at Christmas time. Come January you can be sure to find her at H&R block doing peoples taxes. She helps teach with her brother their youth cell group and when not writing or singing, she can be found studying music, teaching piano lessons or driving to Cheesecake Factory in her cherry red Mustang. It is easy to see that Lorraine lives a very productive and fulfilling life.

Lorraine says that she never forgave her uncle for what happened, simply because she has never felt any anger towards him. She said that her parent’s never displayed any anger and so she never picked anything up herself. Her parent’s always taught her that it was an accident and because of that she has never felt a reason to be mad.

During her life, Lorraine has been prayed for many times for healing in her body. She spent much time in tears growing up, praying and pleading with God to give her the ability to walk, but God never chose to go that route for Lorraine. As an adult, Lorraine has come to a full acceptance that although God, without a doubt in her mind has the ability to heal her, He has chosen not too. She says that she no longer prays for healing. “It’s not that I have given up on God,” she says. She just trusts that the way she is right now is what God wants for her at this time.

However, one thing that really bugs her is that people are still trying to get her healed. Its like she has accepted God’s will for her life, but other people can’t. Instead of focusing on all that she can do, they focus on the one thing she can’t do, the ability to walk. People are uncomfortable with seeing her in a wheelchair, so they want to try and “fix” her so she can be like them. Lorraine, does not view herself that way. She does not like she needs to be ‘fixed’. She feels that what happened to her was indeed a terrible thing to go through and while she doesn’t ‘like’ being in a wheelchair, if she had the choice she wouldn’t go back to before the accident and try to change what happened. It is because of the accident that her parent’s found God. “Yes, I would love to be able to walk like everyone else,” says Lorraine, “but don’t tell me that being able to walk is more important than my salvation.”

Recently, Lorraine just published her second book, “He Blessed The Broken” which is the sequel to her first autobiography, “Famous In Battle”. With the encouragement of her pastor, Rev. Paul Connor of Faith Tabernacle Church in Tucson Arizona, Lorraine will be traveling around giving her testimony and singing as God opens the doors. Her goal is to raise funds to go to Barcelona Spain and teach music to people that will be sent to play in smaller home mission churches in Spain. Lorraine’s brother Eric says that he has seen his sister go places many people can only dream of going, he has seen her touch hearts in ways that others could only dream of touching.

Lorraine says she will never forget the night at Conqueror’s Conference youth convention that a certain preacher came to her during an alter call and with little emotion on his face he grabbed her hand and began to pray with her. She says that as he prayed with her the presence of God wrapped around her. However, this preacher was not praying for her healing. She remembers him saying as they prayed that God had not forgotten her and that He was going to do great things in her life, greater than she could even imagine.

“I knew right then that my ministry for God had only begun,” says Lorraine, and even though I couldn’t see it, eventually it would all work together for the good.” She put her feelings into a song she wrote called “I Believe”, listen as her beautiful voice sings out, “So many nights I’ve cried praying, Lord please change my situation, take this pain from my heart, then I hear you whisper in the darkness "My Child, don’t get discouraged take my hand and believe, I’m working it all for your good. Lord I believe, that eventually everything will turn out right, because you are the God that can’t fail, the God that can’t lie, I believe.” Although others might not be able to see it, in God’s eyes, even if Lorraine does one day walk again here on earth, the real healing in her life came when she found Him.

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

If you would like to buy one of Lorraine's books or to hear her speak at your church...

Contact her at aznitestar@msn.com

Be careful little mouth

2010-09-16T23:46:00.000-07:00

♫ “Oh be careful little mouth what you say…” ♪
Generally speaking, I have a very good self-esteem. Although there are areas in my life that I know I need to work on and change for the better, I am also confident in knowing, that God created me with His own two hands, He breathed into me the breath of life and because of that, I am a wonderful and beautiful person. However, there has been several incidents in my life that my self-esteem was absolutely shot. Times where I couldn’t even look at myself in the mirror without cringing. It was in these moments of my life, that I can remember two particular times that my self-esteem was affected in positive and negative ways, simply by the words of a person’s mouth.

♫ “Oh be careful little mouth what you say…” ♪

The first incident happened quite a few years ago at a Heritage Youth Conference. Before the conference I had found some awesome deals on clothes and had all new outfits. I was so excited. I couldn’t wait to wear all my new stuff and I just knew that I would be looking so good! My self-confidence was very high starting out the beginning of that conference; it was probably higher than the clouds in the sky. However, that quickly changed by the words of a very good-looking guy, making fun of me.

♫ “Oh be careful little mouth what you say…” ♪

I didn’t know him or anything about him, but he was tall with blond hair, blue eyes and an athletic build. I didn’t actually see what happened, but my sister saw the whole thing and informed me later on. She said that he had been with a group of young people from other churches and that when I had come over to the table, where all the youth from my church were sitting, when I sat down he smirked and turned to the people he was with and pretended my chair was breaking. Then him and all the people he was with all cracked up laughing.

♫ “Oh be careful little mouth what you say…” ♪

When my sister told me all this I acted like I didn’t care, that it didn’t matter what people said or thought of me, BUT it did. I was shocked and hurt, especially since the people he was laughing with, was people I often hung out with. The rest of the conference my self-esteem was shot. It didn’t matter what I wore or what people said. They would be like, “Oh Mary, you look so pretty!” and I would smile my bubbly smile, and exclaim an exuberant, “Thank you!” But inside I was thinking, “YEAH RIGHT!” When I looked in the mirror, I would think who cares? Why even bother? Your nothing but a big, fat blob! What had made others smile had in turn crushed my spirit. Their laughter was the cause of my tears.

♫ “Oh be careful little mouth what you say…” ♪

There was another time in my life where the words of another very good looking, very handsome, young man affected my self-esteem as well, but this time it was in a positive way. It happened several years ago at another youth conference. Before attending this conference, I had recently been dumped by a guy and aside from being heart broken; my self-esteem level had gone to about zilch. As if that wasn’t bad enough, this guy had found another girl. He had moved on and I was left behind. Then to top it all off, the girl he was now with had a baby. I’m not trying to sound mean or holier-than-thou, I know we’re all human, we all my make mistakes AND I know that when we repent God forgives and its under the blood of Jesus, BUT I just couldn’t believe that he had chosen her over me. I mean she had a baby and I had never even kissed a guy! My self-image became so low it made me feel like my purity wasn’t important, like it didn’t even matter.

♫ “Oh be careful little mouth what you say…” ♪

It may seem brutally honest, but I’m just being real. That is how I felt, worthless. Like trash, like the fuzz between someone’s toes, like the crud on someone’s feet, the dirt under their nails. My self-esteem was by far lower than it had ever been after being slammed by that good-looking guy at Heritage. I had completely given up on my appearance. I never did my hair, hardly even ran a brush through it. I didn’t care about the way I looked. I had this one maroon jumper; with black flowers on it and I pretty much wore that all the time. My friend Janelle says that she remembers that I would wear that jumper to church on Sunday and then sure enough I would have it on again for church Wednesday night. She says that she remembers saying something to me about it, like, “um Mary, didn’t you wear that on Sunday?” She says that I would just shrug my shoulders like, whatever, who cares!

♫ “Oh be careful little mouth what you say…” ♪

And so that was the mentality I went with to this conference. I just didn’t care about the way I looked. I figured if I couldn’t get this one guy to like me, then it wasn’t like I could get anyone else to look at me. I remember on the last night, I had a date to the banquet and everything, but it didn’t matter to me. I remember we were getting ready for church that last night of conference and the girls in my room were getting all dressed up and they asked me if I was going to do my hair for my date, I just looked at them. They were like come on Mary; “You have a date, YOU HAVE TO DO YOUR HAIR!” I remember I just got my hairspray, brush and bobby pins, handed it to the girls and was like, ok then, do my hair. So my best friend did it for me. She put my hair up in pretty little rolls and put on my cute little zebra headband to match my outfit and I guess I looked good, but I honestly don’t remember thinking about it, or even glancing in the mirror. I just didn’t care.

♫ “Oh be careful little mouth what you say…” ♪

That night after service I remember walking around, mingling with my friends and socializing. While talking to some people, I noticed from the corner of my eye a very handsome young man. Now when I say handsome, I mean very, very handsome! He was by far; way better looking than the guy that had made fun of me previously at the Heritage Conference. I mean he was the kind of guy that when I saw him my heart literally skipped a beat and I didn’t think I could breath right. Every girl has that one guy that is just above and beyond any other guy they have ever met. That one guy, that they consider, the best looking guy in the world, and even though most everyone I knew didn’t agree with me, to ME, he was that one guy.

♫ “Oh be careful little mouth what you say…” ♪

As I stood there chatting with my friends, I see from the corner of my eye that he is looking at me. I think it’s just my imagination, but then I see him look again, this time he leans over and whispers something to his friend. I think, “Oh great, just another cute guy making fun of me.” But then he starts to come over to me, then he stops, glances at me again, whispers to his friend again, his friend whispers back and then he comes over. I’m trying to be casual about it, but inside I’m freaking out. I mean I’ve kind of known this guy most of my life, but just as an acquaintance and I’ve never really talked to him. He shakes everyone in our groups hands, says hi to us all, then he turns to me…

♫ “Oh be careful little mouth what you say…” ♪

I can’t remember what all he said to me, since I was quite flustered at the moment, but I remember him complimenting me on my appearance. He said something about me losing weight and he congratulated me on it. He said that I looked good. I was shocked. It happened so quickly all I could do was stand there speechless. He was what I considered, the handsomest guy I had ever seen, and he was complimenting… ME!

♫ “Oh be careful little mouth what you say…” ♪

All the girls were like, oh is that why you went and stood over there, because of him? I was like, “NO!” Honestly, I had noticed that he was at church that night, but I didn’t think twice about it. I mean, if this other girl had gotten the heart of the guy that had dumped me, there was absolutely no way in the world that I was going to be able to get the best looking guy in Pentecost to even look at me, let alone come over, shake my hand, say hi, AND GIVE ME A COMPLIMENT!

♫ “Oh be careful little mouth what you say…” ♪

This young man’s words affected me in a very positive way. I know it probably wasn’t easy stepping out the way he did and paying me that compliment. It took some guts to do it, but because he did, I went home from that conference a different person. Aside from developing an even bigger crush on him, my spirit was lifted and my self- esteem began to be restored.

♫ “Oh be careful little mouth what you say…” ♪

After that night I became determined to care about the way I looked. We had Saturday night prayer meeting the next day after conference and I was like, you know what it may just be prayer meeting but I’m going to do my hair for it. It’s been quite a few years since that happened, but I can’t remember a Sunday since that conference that I have gone to church without my hair all fixed up. (Aside from the time I overslept and had to go to church with curlers in my hair! ;) I decided I liked looking good and started doing my hair all the time even for work. My brothers would look at me and be like where are you going all fancy? I’m like; “work”, and they would just look at me, like I was crazy. I remember everyone at church would look at me like all shocked and just be like, why are you all dressed up? Is there going to be a cute guy here or something? I would be like nope, I just feel like looking good. Eventually, everyone just got used to me getting all dressed up for no particular reason and I think they would be more shocked now if I didn’t.

♫ “Oh be careful little mouth what you say…” ♪

However, I continued working on myself, my appearance, taking care of myself and losing weight. Of course my crush continued to blossom and I remember a lot of people telling me not to get my hopes up and that they didn’t want to see me get hurt. I was just like you know what, “I’ve already been hurt and when I look back on it all, I think, it really wasn’t worth it, and I know that it may happen again, but it’s ok, because this guy is so worth taking that risk.” As time went on that guy never did return my interest, but he did become my friend. And even though I know, he knew that I liked him, he was never rude to me and he always treated me with respect.

♫ “Oh be careful little mouth what you say…” ♪

Eventually, I got the hint, I realized that he wasn’t interested in me and even though I was disappointed and I cried a few tears, I was ok. Because of the way he treated me, my spirit wasn’t crushed and my self-esteem was still intact. Looking back, I can say, “he was worth it” and if I ever have the chance to talk to a girl he is interested in, I would give him the highest recommendation to her and sincerely mean it. Yes, I truly believe that God used the kindhearted words, of a good-looking young man that day to restore my self-esteem.

♫ “Oh be careful little mouth what you say…” ♪

The Bible has a lot to say about the words that come from our mouth. James says, “ Even so the tongue is a little member, and boasteth great things. Behold, how great a matter a little fire kindleth! And the tongue is a fire, a world of iniquity; so is the tongue among our members, that it defileth the whole body, and setteth on fire the course of nature; and it is set on fire of hell.” (James 3:5-6) It’s so easy for us to let unkind words slip out of our mouths without even thinking about it, to call someone ugly or some kind of rude name and if their feelings get hurt we act like they are the one with the problem, because, “they don’t know how to take a joke.” Sarcasm is considered cool and yeah, to some degree sarcasm can be funny, but it’s not a trait I would personally want to be known for.

♫ “Oh be careful little mouth what you say…”

What does sarcasm mean? Sarcasm means, expressing or expressive words of ridicule that wounds (wordnetweb.princeton.edu/perl/webwn). Sarcasm is the rhetorical device of using a characterization of something or someone in order to express contempt. It is closely connected with irony, in that the two are often combined in the same statement (en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sarcastic). Sarcasm - is one kind of irony; it is praise, which is really an insult; sarcasm generally involves malice, the desire to put someone down, eg, "This is my brilliant son, who failed out of college." (academic.brooklyn.cuny.edu/english/melani/lit_term.html) Sarcasm- a form of verbal irony in which apparent praise is actually harshly or bitterly critical (www.wwnorton.com/litweb/glossary/glossary_s.htm). According to Wickipedia Encyclopedia, the origin of the word sarcasm comes from the ancient Greek word sarkazo meaning 'to tear flesh'.

♫ “Oh be careful little mouth what you say…”

‘To tear flesh’. Something tells me that Jesus wouldn’t be very fond of sarcasm. I don’t think he would laugh it off and come up with witty little sayings about it. Jesus says in Matthew, “Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light. (Matthew 11: 29-30) Sarcasm just doesn’t seem to fit into those scriptures anywhere. Jesus describes himself as meek, humble and a place of rest. Furthermore, he tells us to take that same spirit upon ourselves. We should be a place of solace and rest to one another, not some kind of butcher block that tears each other down with our words.

♫ “Oh be careful little mouth what you say…”

Even the best looking, most affluent people, have their bad days. There are times in our lives where we just don’t feel like we’re all that. No one ever would have been able to guess how those words had affected me from that Heritage conference all those years ago. I acted like, I didn’t care and I seem like the kind of person that wouldn’t care. I know to some degree how to hold back the tears in public, but the truth is that it did matter and I did care. You may think, oh that person is strong, they won’t take it the wrong way, but you can’s see their inside and you just don’t really know. We’re all human and although some of us are more sensitive, none of us are immune to getting hurt. As the song Hezekiah Walker sings, “I need you, you need me, we're all a part of God's body I pray for you, You pray for me, you are important to me, I won't harm you with words from my mouth, I love you, I need you to survive.”

♫ “Oh be careful little mouth what you say…”

My self-esteem was strongly affected in two different ways, simply by the words of two individuals’ mouths. I don’t think that guy from Heritage is some kind of horrible person. He was just trying to look cool in the eyes of his friends, but he wasn’t thinking about me as a person or how his words might affect me. The truth is that most of us have all made fun of someone at one time or another. I’m sure the other good-looking guy has, and I for sure know that I have done my fair share of saying unkind things and making fun. There is an old saying that says, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” That saying is NOT true! Words can hurt and sometimes even more than sticks or stones ever could. Words are a powerful tool that can be used in a positive or negative way. Words can slice and dice a person right up. The Bible says "Death and life are in the power of the tongue," (Proverbs 18:21).

♫ “Oh be careful little mouth what you say…”

However, your words can also be a blessing and bring nurture to a hurting person. "Pleasant words are a honey comb, Sweet to the soul and healing to the bones" (Proverbs 16:24). How are your words affecting people? How are my words affecting people? Are we lifting people up, causing someone to smile? Putting on the light in someone’s eye? Or are we slaughtering people? Slaying them with sharp words and stomping out their flame? “Let the words of my mouth, and the meditation of my heart, be acceptable in thy sight, O LORD…” (Psalm 19:14). ♫ “Oh be careful little mouth what you say!”♪

♫ Why Complain? ♫

2010-08-20T15:24:00.000-07:00

♫ "God is so good to me, I was singing this song the other day, He is so good to me, God is so good to me, I CAN'T complain!” ♫ Then I got to thinking about it and I thought, actually, I could complain. I mean seriously. There are quite a few things in my life that I would like to complain about right now.

Then something happened at work that same day that just really pushed me over the edge. I was very irritated. Just so incredibly annoyed. On the outside I had managed maintain my cool. However, on the inside, I was boiling mad. I was so hot I am surprised no one could see steam seeping out of me. There was nothing I could really do about it, except maintain my cool in silence.

For the most part, I try not to post all my problems on my blog or email them to all my friends. I try to keep a positive attitude. But after this, I decided to break that decision. I was going to blog about this irritation, mass email about it, twitter about it, text and facebook about it. I was ready to vent my extreme annoyance to anyone and everyone that would listen.

However, as I was sitting there, preparing to vent, God ran a simple little question through my mind...
.

"Why complain?"

" Huh?" I heard it again.

"Why complain?"

" Well, because I am like really irritated and..."

"...But why complain?"

"Well, uh, you see, I uh, the reason why is because, uh..."

Then another question...

"What is complaining going to do?"

I thought about this for a moment, but came up with NOTHING. I knew that was the answer to the question; complaining would do NOTHING. It wouldn’t do me any good. Nor was it going to do any of the people I was complaining to ANY good. When I realized this God asked me one more time...

"Why complain?"

"I said ok forget it, I think I just changed my mind!!!"

You know, its so easy to complain. But really, WHY complain? Why be negative when you can be positive? Why bring another's spirit down, when you can help lift their spirit up? We all have those bad days, life isn't perfect, and sometimes we're just going to feel a little down. BUT why complain?

One of the best ways to get out of feeling down is by making someone else smile. There is a saying that says Happiness is like jam, you can't spread even a little, without getting some on yourself. I realized this the other day when I was upset. I went home from work and thought, hmmm.... what should I do? Really, I just felt like being a grouch. I went to the computer to check my email, perhaps I had received and enlightening email from a friend. Grrr ...Nothing but junk mail. Well, I guess I’ll blog. So I started writing something, it was just a silly, stupid blog, but it was funny. It made my friends laugh and you know what, making them laugh made me feel better.

Yeah, I still had the same problem, but I would have had the same problem if I had been complaining about it to. And by complaining about it to my friends I would have put that same frustration on them, instead I had caused them to laugh, which in turn made me smile also.

So why complain? Sometimes we just expect everyone to be our little venting station. We think that our family, spouse, friends, employees are there for us to complain to about all of life's little problems. Then we can't understand why people don't want to talk to us and make excuses to get off the phone. The truth is simple, no one wants to hear you complain. Yes it's okay to occasionally vent frustration. It's one thing to go to a friend and say that you have something that you really need to talk to them about. That you need their advice, prayer or just some encouragement…

It's another thing to just complain.

"My husband just can't pick up after himself. No one at work appreciates me. The neighbor's next-door need to mow their lawn. I deserve a raise. My brother ate the last of my favorite cereal. My sister used the last of the cinnamon vanilla creamer. My wife always burns the toast AND her coffee is weak." Sometimes, I just want to look at people and say, "I DON'T CARE!!!" I am not trying to be rude, I mean, we could all sit around and talk about our frustrations, but, WHY?! WHY complain?

I heard a preacher once tell a story about how someone at his house had left the water running while watering the plants. He said that he was very annoyed when he went out and saw the water running down the street. It was wasting water and he was going to have to pay the bill. He said that he knew who had left the water running. He knew where she lived and he knew that if he chose to he could go over to her house and really let her have it for not turning off the water. If chose to, he could really ruin this woman’s day. However, he says, “You know what I did? I turned off the water.”

I think sometimes in life we need to learn how to just “Turn off the water” If it really bothers you, that your husband leaves his clothes on the floor, just shut up and pick them up. Buy some more creamer. Eat a different cereal. Make your own coffee. I’m NOT saying that when we don’t like something we never have to say a word about it. But if you really do have a constant problem, you should try talking directly to that person and not the rest of the world.

I got to thinking about it a little bit more, the whole complaining thing. I realized that we would probably get a lot further with resolving our problems, if we spent as much time in prayer, talking to God about our problems, as we do complaining to everyone else about our problems. In the Bible it says that there was a woman named Hannah who was barren in her womb. Her and her husband could not conceive children and because of this she was very sad. The Bible says she literally grieved in her heart, that’s how badly she wanted a child.

At first, Hannah tried complaining to her husband about this, but she didn’t get very far. Although the Bible says that her husband loved her, his response was that of a typical male, “Then said Elkanah her husband to her, Hannah, why weepest thou? and why eatest thou not? and why is thy heart grieved? Am not I better to thee than ten sons?” (1 Samuel 1:8) There was nothing Elkanah, her husband could do to solve this problem. However, I like what Hannah does next. “And she was in bitterness of soul, and prayed unto the LORD, and wept sore.” (1 Samuel 1:10) What did she do? She talked to God about it. And talking to God about her problem got her a whole lot further than complaining to her husband about it. “…and the LORD remembered her. Wherefore it came to pass, when the time was come about after Hannah had conceived, that she bare a son, and called his name Samuel, saying, Because I have asked him of the LORD, ” ( 1 Samuel 1:19-20). God heard her and He answered her prayer.

The honest truth is that often times we as humans might not really want to hear about the things that are bringing you down. Its not that we don’t love each other, but, we’re only humans. There are some things, that, aside from praying, there is just nothing I can personally do to help a person. However, 1 Peter 5:7 says, “Casting all your care upon him; for he careth for you.” Talk to God about your problems. He REALLY does care.

So the song runs through my mind just one more time. God is so good to me; He is so good to me. His spirit came to me and gave me the victory; God is so good to me I CAN'T complain! Well, actually, I still could, I mean, there are still quite a few things in my life that I would like to be different. I am still single, I still wish I had more money, a car, a raise would be nice, I really want that one jacket, that one camera, and oh, irritating people are still everywhere. BUT, then I think about God's goodness.

I was raised in truth, I am surrounded by family, I have the Holy Ghost, God forgave me of my sins, I go to an awesome church, I have a pastor that watches out for my soul and isn't afraid to preach the truth, at least I HAVE A JOB, the bills are getting paid, I have tons of cute clothes, I have friends galore, I have good fellowship, laughter overflows my heart, I have joy that fills my soul, and the list goes on and on and on. ♫Sing it one more time♫ God is so good to me, He is so good to me, God is so good to me, and I’m NOT going to complain!♫

...Whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.

(Phil. 4:8)

The Little Messenger

2010-07-14T00:02:00.000-07:00

He was sitting in the front row on the first seat at church. He was the pastor’s son and my big brother’s best friend. I thought his freckle-covered face was adorable, and every time I looked into his beautiful, blue-green eyes, I would drown in a pool of bliss. I had a perfect view of him from my seat in the third row, on the opposite side of the church. His name was Daniel Mack Abbott, but we all called him Danny.
Every time he happened to glance behind him, my best friend Jacqui would nudge me.
"He's looking at you," she whispered. I giggled.
"How many times is that now?" I asked.
"Four,” she whispered.
I was about 14 years old and had the biggest crush of my whole entire life. I would do anything to get his attention and I was willing to fight any girl for him. I figured if I fought hard enough, he would be mine.

(My scrapbook was filled with his pictures.)

"Just wait, I would boast to everyone. “I'm gonna marry that boy some day!"

My boasting came to halt one day when my best friend Jacqui called.
"Hey girl, what's up?" I said.
“You are so not going to believe what just happened to me,” she said.
“Oh tell me, tell me,” I exclaimed.
“Danny just called me,” she said.
“What did he say?” I squealed. She paused…
"Okay, don't get mad at me," she said, but Danny asked me to the Valentine's Banquet, and I said ‘yes’."
"Uhhh, umm ..."shocked, all I could do was stutter. I couldn’t believe it!
"He just called a few minutes ago," she said. "You’re my best friend so I wanted you to be the first to know."
"Oh,” I managed to choke out. How nice of you, I though to myself! I didn’t know what else to say. So hung up the phone and started crying.
*
How could she do this to me? I wondered. She knew how much I liked him, and yet she still said “yes”. What kind of a friend was she? Little did I know I had a lot to learn about friendship.

*
“Just because you like him, doesn’t mean you own him,” said one of the older girls in my church,“Other girls can like him, too.”
“Whatever!” I thought to myself.

*
However, I did try really hard not to be mad at her for what she had done. It wasn’t her fault that he liked her and not me. I told myself no guy was worth losing my best friend.

Yet, when I looked at his handsome face, I wasn’t sure maybe it was.

*
This situation was really hard on our friendship. That’s when little Sarah stepped in. Sarah Nickels was 10 years old. Too young for Danny, too young to be my friend, but just right to be my messenger, and she was a very loyal messenger, too!

*
“Everyone thinks that you’re mad because Danny didn’t ask you to the banquet," said Sarah.
"I'm not mad!” I said. “But go tell Danny he should have gone with me!"
“Okay,” she said obediently, running off to do her job.

*
Another time at summer, Bible camp, in Prescott, little Sarah came running over to me.
"Mary! Mary! Some girl at choir practice said that she likes Danny." At 14 I was too old to be a camper, so I went as a staff member instead. Sarah would keep me informed on everything that was going on.
"WHAT! How dare she?" I said.
"I know," said Sarah. "I told her that Danny Abbott went to our church and that you liked him first."
"Good job!" I said.

*
That night Sarah was at my side in the dorm room as I yelled out the window.
"I like Danny Abbott!"
"Well I like Danny Abbott, too," yelled a voice a couple rooms down in the dorm.
"That’s her," whispered Sarah.
"Well I like Danny Abbott more," I yelled back.

*
One time I made a cookie for Danny, but I was to shy to give it to him.
"Sarah, will you go give this to Danny for me.” I kissed the cookie before I handed it to her. "Tell Danny I made this cookie for him. After he takes a bite of the cookie, tell him I kissed it. Then come back and tell me what he says.”
"He says it was delicious," she said after completing her assignment. (She left out the part were he spit it out, after he found out that I had kissed it.)

*And so the drama continued...

*“Let’s go find Danny and take a picture of him. Go tell Danny I like his shirt. Go give Danny this note. Go tell Danny I missed him. Tell me if you see any girls flirting with him.” And little Sarah kept doing her job…

*
That was all a long time ago, I am 25 now, and a lot has happened in the last 11 years. Jacqui and I managed to get over our petty squabbling and remained the best of friends. Little Sarah grew up, and we became best friends as well. Eventually, I got over Danny, and have liked a million guys since then. I have spent many nights up late, with both Jacqui and Sarah, whispering and giggling over cute guys.

*
Three summers ago there was a wedding, Danny Abbott's wedding. This was the wedding I had spent many hours dreaming about.

Although it wasn’t exactly the way I had planned it. It was still perfect, because, it happened exactly the way God planned it.

*
I felt like a princess that day, as I walked down the aisle holding on tightly to my beautiful rose bouquet. My Little Messenger Sarah did my hair and it was piled up on my head with beautiful curls flowing down. Little pink and red roses were in my hair and I felt like the most beautiful woman in the world, as I walked down the aisle, smiling happily. No, I wasn't the bride, but I was a bridesmaid.
*So who did Danny Abbott end up marrying?

It wasn't my best friend that went with him to the banquet or the girl from camp or any of the other girls I used to fight with. It was little Sarah. I don’t remember her ever doing foolish things to try and gain his attention, but one day he looked across the aisle at church and he noticed her. Danny Abbott fell in love with my Little Messenger.
*
“I can’t believe it!” I said to Sarah on her wedding day, as I buttoned the cuffs on her beautiful white dress. “My little Sarah is getting married.” I can’t help but smile at the way things turned out.*

You see, my little messenger gave me a message as well. Her message was about friendship and loyalty. She taught me that being a friend doesn’t mean you can’t like the same guy, but a true friend will stick by you no matter what happens. The world is full of handsome men. However, best friends are like a rare treasure, they're hard to find.

Are You Cheering?

2010-03-30T16:04:00.000-07:00

A while ago I had the strangest dream. In the dream I was walking outside in my mother's neighborhood. As I was walking I saw the bridge that you can walk over the freeway and see all the cars below. As I got closer I noticed that there was a large group people standing around the bridge. Wanting to know what was going on I walked closer. As I got closer could hear chanting and cheering. People were screaming, "COME ON! DO IT! DO IT! DO IT!" I wondered what they were cheering about. Finally I got close enough, I saw that there was a man about to jump off the bridge and end his life. I gasped HORRIFIED as people continued screaming and chanting. "Just do it! Jump! Come on, JUST JUMP! JUMP!" I was SHOCKED! I couldn't believe that people would be cheering someone on to end their life. "NOOOOOO!" I screamed. "Don't do it!" But it was to late for my one little cry. It was overshadowed by the screaming and cheering throng of people.

The cheering of the people in the crowd turned to whoops and hollers of joy as the man took his final plunge off the bridge and ended his life. "Oh yeah! He FINALLY did it!" The people shouted with enjoyment as they high fived each other. "That was AWESOME!" I woke up with a suddeness and just sat in my bed horrified by my dream. If only that man could have heard someone say that they loved him and that his life still had value! IF ONLY I had gotten there SOONER maybe, there would have been a different outcome!
.
The WHOLE day a just felt an eeary feeling of gloom over me. While the kids were napping at work, I sat on the couch and just thought about the dream! It was sooooo CREEPY! I mean, to think that people were ACTUALLY cheering and encouraging someone to just end their life absolutely disgusted me.

As I sat there and thought about it, I felt like God impressed something on me about the dream. Not like I had vision or anything, just a thought he put through my mind. I felt like God told me that sometimes thats what we do to each other within the church. Sometimes we see that our brother or sister in the Lord is falling. Often times there is that ONE person that we see making the same mistakes over and over again. They are weak...they are struggling. But instead of trying to help them up, we gossip and talk about them behind their back.

So often a person leaves the church and we shrug our shoulders in nonchalance. I remember talking to a girl from another church one time on the phone. I asked her how a girl in her church was doing. She casually said that the girl had stopped going to church, but was now struggling to get back in and live for God. "Oh well," she said indifferent, you can't win them all." I was shocked. How could someone talk so carlessly about their friend losing out with God?

There is a young man in my church named Sam Karlson. He stopped going to church in his early teens and got back in church at 18. When he got back in church, I wrote his testimony and it's pretty awesome some of the things that God brought him from. But, one thing I remember him tellin me about was that his mom ALWAYS prayed for him. He said that sometimes he would come home late at night, drunk from partying and he would find his mom praying for him. You know why? Because it was HER son. She loved him and she wanted above all else to see him saved. What if Sam's mom had just been like, "Oh bummer, my son's not coming to church anymore?" Do you think he would have got back in? But NO! Sis. Kathy Karlson got down her knees and did some heartwrenching praying. I don't believe Sam would be back in church is she hadn't!

When someone leaves the church we need to make it PERSONAL!!! Think about how you would feel if someone you loved dearly left church...or perhaps you do know. Your not just like, whatever...bummer their not coming anymore, but Oh well! NO! YOUR on your knees, pleading the blood of Jesus over them. WELL, This is not just anyone, this is OUR brother, this is OUR sister!!! You say, well I just don't feel that way...ASK GOD to give you a burden!

I understand that sometimes people have a bad spirit that is bringing others down and that sometimes it really is a relief when it's gone. However it should NEVER be our desire to see our brother or sister lose out with God. I think sometimes we see a peer getting ready to take that final lunge and leave the church. BUT instead of screaming...NOOOOOOOOO...STOP!!! We secretly are cheering them on in our hearts. Just go on now...get outta here...LEAVE!

Then when they do, we turn to each other, "Aw, I knew they were gonna leave eventually. They never really had it in their heart all along." And we are pleased in knowing that we were really right about them ALL ALONG! And perhaps we are right to some degree, BUT WHAT IF, WHAT IF, WHAT IF, WHAT IF we had all gone to that person and told them that we loved them?! What if we had told them that we cared about them?! WHAT IF we told them that we believed in them?! WHAT IF we told them that it didn't matter what they had done, God would still forgive them. WHAT IF we had all gotten down on our knees and PRAYED AND WEPT FOR THEM?! Maybe there would be a DIFFERENT outcome.

Perhaps your thinking, but you don't know what they did! They don't DESERVE our love. The truth is that they probabley don't deserve our love. Just like WE didn't deserve God's love, BUT he still gave it.

But God commandeth His love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. Romans 5:8

THINK about it...

Are you screaming NOOOOO?!

Or are you cheering them on?!

Do you ever wonder?

2010-03-24T14:56:00.000-07:00

It was just one of those days at work as a nanny. I had spent all morning chasing the kids as they tore the house a part. Finally, it was naptime. I put the little one down first in his crib. Then I told Ella to pick out a short story for me to read to her before her nap. She handed me Max Lucado’s book called, "Just In Case You Ever Wonder." I rolled my eyes to myself, I had read this story several years ago and was not at impressed by it. However, I was tired and just figured I would get story time over with. I tucked the 5-year-old girl into her cozy little bed, then sat on the edge and began to read to her…

Long, long ago God made a decision- a very important decision. One that I’m really glad He made. He made the decision to make you. The same hands that made the stars made you. The same hands that made the canyons made you. The same hands that made the trees and the moon and the sun made you. So I am just sitting there like blah, blah, blah, whatever, totally not any more impacted by this story. It continues…

God made you like no one else. If you looked all over the world – every city in every house – there is would be no one else like you. No one with your eyes, no one with your mouth, no one with your laugh. You are very, very special. And since you are so special, God wanted to put you in just the right home. All of the sudden I felt something tighten in my heart…

God wanted to put you in just the right home. Where you would be warm when it’s cold, where you’d be safe when you’re afraid, where you’d have fun and learn about heaven. I’m starting to feel choked up… So, after lots of looking for just the right family, God sent you to me. And I’m so glad he did. I could hardly contain myself as I continued reading the story. It wasn’t the story so much in itself that was causing the emotional response, but because I know some children, that can’t relate with this story. I know some children, that don’t always have a warm place to sleep at night. There are some children that aren’t safe in their own home.

My voice began to get all funny as I continued reading to this little girl… As you grow and change, some things will stay the same. I’ll always love you. I’ll always hug you. I’ll always be on your side. And I want you to know that, just in case you ever wonder. I know that there are kids out there that ARE wondering…

On dark nights when you hear noises in your closet, call me. When you see monsters in the shadows, call me. On hard days when kids are mean and don’t treat you like they should, come to me. If your grades are bad and your teacher is mad, come to me. ‘Cause I love you. And I always will.

I think of a wild little five year-old boy. He is so loud and obnoxious. He drives everyone crazy. But I wonder, at night, when he is scared and all alone, does he know that there are angels watching over him. I wonder who holds him close and tells him everything is going to be all right? I think of a 12-year-old girl, she gets up in the middle of the night, to watch someone else’s baby. I wonder when was the last time someone tucked her into bed? There are so many things, I just can’t help but wonder…

In heaven you are so close to God that HE will hug you, just like I hug you. It’s going to be wonderful. I will be there too, I promise. We will be there together, forever. Remember that. Just in case you ever wonder.

As I finish the book, I can hardly hold back my tears. The little girl looks at me funny, not to sure what is wrong with her nanny. I smile a little smile. Tuck her in as we say her bedtime prayers. Then I go into their living room. I sit down on their floor and I cry.

What about these kids God? The Sunday School kids? The bus kids? I can't help but wonder...Who encourages them when they are sad? Who holds them when they can’t fall asleep at night? Who tells them to sleep with the bible under their pillow when they have bad dreams? Who will fill in the gap of their parent’s? Who will tell them that they are loved? I just can’t help but wonder…

As I sat there pondering, God told me, “That’s your job Mary!” He impressed upon me that, that’s us. That’s the church’s job. Our churches are the place where they will fell safe and warm. After lots and lots of looking, God chose our churches to be their home. A place where he knew they would be loved and taught about Him. I believe, that every child brought to church, is brought there on purpose, by God.

I think about my little niece Mary Jo. God brought her out of such a horrible environment. She calls her old home, “The mad home” and our house is her “Happy home.” And I’m so glad that God brought her out of the horrible life that she was in, but still thinking about it, I can’t help but feel a sense of sadness. Because not every child gets “There happy home.” There are so many children that are stuck in their “Mad home” till adulthood. But then I think, if only for a moment, we can give them that happy home. Church can be their happy home. Church can be the place where they can feel loved and taught the truth. Even if it’s only for two hours a week, we can make a difference.

Often times these kids are NOT the easiest kids to love, I know that! They are wild and hyper and not used to discipline. Often they are dirty and sick with runny noses. Chances are they may smell and you will more than likely hear inappropriate things coming out of their mouths. These kids are NOT like our church kids. They are not naïve and innocent. By four-years-old, most of them have already been violated and corrupted by the sin of this world. It is an overwhelming feeling, to hold a child in your arms and know that at 26-years of age, you are more innocent, more naïve than that little child. Sometimes, it seems like there is just too much, to work through. Perhaps it would be easier to just give up. But, God called us.

One night, my brother and I were dropping kids off at their homes. The last boy in the van was about 6-years-old. When we get to his apartment, he proudly walks to their front door holding the big, 3-dimentional, paper snowflake he had made in his class that night. I watch as he sets the snowflake down on the ground and reaches into his pocket for a key to unlock the door. There are no lights on and I don’t even have to wonder, I turn to my brother, “He is on his own tonight.” He finally gets the front door open, but a gust of wind starts blowing his snowflake. I watch as he goes chasing after his beloved snowflake and my heart breaks just a little. Here is a little boy torn between to worlds. Still enthralled by his little craft, yet the responsibility of an adult on his shoulders.

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On dark nights when you hear noises in your closet, call me.

When you see monsters in the shadows, call me…

I think of one of a four-year-old in my mom’s class at church. She has a special prayer request along with the other kids in class. One little boy wants to pray for his Pa Pa. One little boy wants to pray that he finds his lost key. Another child wants to pray that one of the older ladies in our church feels better. This little girl just wants to pray that her mom will stop beating her sister. That’s the kind of home they these kids are coming from.

Another part of the story says…

Most of all I’ll be here to teach you about God. He loves you. He protects you. God wants you to know about heaven. It’s a wonderful place. There are no tears there. No monsters. No mean people. You never have to say goodbye, goodnight or I’m hungry. You will never get cold or sick or again.

Who will tell them about Jesus? How will they know about heaven? That’s our job... Just in case your wondering...they need you...they need me...they need us...Just in case your wondering. As cried at work that day, I told God I’ll do it. I’ll hold them my arms no matter how bad they smell. I’ll dry their tears and wipe their snotty little noses. I’ll discipline them when they are bad and I’ll teach them about you every chance I get. I’ll be here God. Call me, whenever, wherever, I promise. Just in case you ever wonder.

Your Dream

2010-03-23T13:25:00.000-07:00

Have you ever wanted something? I mean really, really, REALLY wanted something!? The desire for this thing is so strong and so deep you don't think you could be whole without it. With each and every passing day the desire for your dream seems to intensify even more. You wait and you wait and you wait but it never happens. Your dream never comes true...but still...YOU WAIT!

Eventually, you sorta put the dream aside. It's NOT that you have stopped wanting this dream to come true. It's NOT that you have given up ALL hope! Your just getting on with your life...living life to the fullest...AND you THINK it's ok...you'll make it...but then you see it AGAIN...YOUR DREAM!!!

It's right there in front of you. EVERYTHING you ever wanted...It's REAL!!!Only...It's NOT for you. It belongs to someone else. You can't believe it! You don't understand! You waited SOOOOO long for this...and now they have it...YOUR dream!

They are holding it in their arms. Rocking it slowly...back and forth...back and forth.They cradle your dream to their heart as they whisper sweet I love you's. You wonder if they know just how blessed they are to have your dream.

You try NOT to be jealous. You try to be happy for them. You try to push away the envy that is overwhelming you...but it's still there. Once again your aware of the empty, gaping whole in your heart...The aching in your arms.You try to hold back the tears...but you can't. When no one is looking you let the tears fall...Your body shakes as you cry...you sob.You don't understand...it's NOT fair! HOW DID THEY GET YOUR DREAM?

But then...Then they hand it to you...The dream. You hold the dream in your arms...and it's PERFECT! Better than you could have ever imagined! You feel every teeny, tiny breath as it peacfully sleeps. SUDDENLY it begins to move...stretching...then it opens it's eyes...AND it looks at you...and you can't help but smile... just a little. The dream raise it's little eybrows...crinckling it's forhead...you smile a little bigger. It raises it's arm and yawns...you can't help but giggle...It moves it's lips...you laugh...you just have to! It just looks at you and you laugh some more.

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You hold it to your heart and cuddle it....the dream.You put your cheek on it's cheek...and your dream quickley falls back asleep. You can't help but feel so happy.The joy of the dream overflows your heart. It's still not your dream...so you hand it back...smiling...envy washed away. It's not as if you don't still have the desire for your dream...it's still there...burning in your heart...

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But your learnin...

Learnin as you wait, to enjoy someone else's dream.

Thats what I call CONTENTMENT.

Godliness with contentment is great gain.

Titus 6:5

Broken hearts

2010-02-10T16:18:00.000-08:00

Shattered. Seperated. Crushed. Smashed. Ragged. Uneven. Tattered. Like an old forgotten teddy bear that had lost all its stuffing, thats how I felt. On the outside, I apeared the same, but on the inside I was different. Broken. Even though it had been over a year and a half since my big break-up, I still felt heart broken. I really couldn't understand why I still felt this way. I didn't even want to be with him anymore. I had liked a million guys since then and yet I couldn't deny the fact that there was a sadness inside my heart. For two years he had been my best friend. We talked every night before I went to bed. I had shared all my hopes and dreams with him. No matter how hard I tried to push that feeling away, it remained intact. I still had a broken heart. I didn't think I would ever be the same again!

Several months after the break up, I found myself starting an outreach with an African refugee community. Even though I had become very passionate about what I was now doing, it didn't take away the sad feeling inside my heart. There was still many nights that I cried myself to sleep. I remember l feeling so upset. I just wanted to "get over it" but I couldn't. I called my pastor one day, crying, asking him for advice. He listened to me as I sobbed to him on the phone. Then he gave me some very simple words of wisdom. He told me to just get on with my life. He said that I had already been doing a good job with that, especially, with the African children and that I should just keep doing what I was doing. He said to just let that be my testimony. Despite the compliment, his advice really wasn't what I wanted hear. However, I did take it heart and I continued on with my life.

I stayed involved with my church. I emerged myself into outreach and teaching Wednesday night bible class. I had good times with my family. I had fun with my friends and went to as many youth activities as possible. Slowly I began to let things go. One by one I said good bye to the things he had given me. The hardest to let go of was this one soft, white teddy bear dressed like a cowboy, but finally I gave it to one of the little African boys. I continued going through stuff. I pulled out wedding decorations and donated them to my friend's baby shower and some more stuff for our ladies tea. As I went through more stuff, I pulled out the wedding dress. The layers and layers of white tulle piled up on the ground. "I should get rid of this!" I said to my sister, "I don't need it anymore!" "Well you could just save it," said my sister, "for one day when you do get married." I looked at it again, "Naw," I said, it doesn't really seem nearly as pretty as it used too." So we packed it up and dropped it off at the Saver's down the street from our house.

Then one day while I was at work, one of my friends texted me some dreadful news about him- he had a girlfriend. I sat there and cried and cried and cried. That day when I came home from work I was ready to tell my family. I'll never forget the OBNOXIOUS whoops of joy from my brothers when they heard this news. I rolled my eyes and couldn't help but smile, I knew it was only because they loved me and wanted to see me move on. I went to my room and pulled out my scrapbook of us together. I brought it out to my mom who sitting at our kitchen table, "I guess maybe I should get rid of this now," I said. She agreed that it was time. My brother's were ready to build a bonfire in the backyard to throw it in, but my mom said NO! Then she just sat there and gently pulled each picture of us off the pages. As she did this she talked to me...

"You know Mary, she said, "Sometimes people's feelings just change. She explained that love and relationships can be a very complicated thing to figure out. We think we know what we want, but then you aren't sure or you change your mind. She said that his breaking up with me didn't mean that he was a bad person. Sometimes these things just happen. Then she told me about a time before she was married to my dad. She was dating a really nice man. She said he was really smart and very kind-hearted. He wanted to marry her, but she said she just didn't love him like that. And even though she didn't want to hurt him, she broke up with him. There was something about hearing it from my mom, knowing that she had to do the same thing to someone, as what my boyfriend had done to me, made me realize that he really wasn't a bad person. We just weren't right for each other, but still it HURT!

Finally it was a year and seven months since our break up. It was the end of 2007 and it was time for the Conqueror's Conference youth convention our church always goes to in Tuscon Arizona. I wasn't sure if i really even wanted to go. By this time, his girlfriend had become his finance and I knew they would be there together. I a part of me really wanted to stay home, but I knew that wouldn't be the best way for me to continue getting on with my life as my pastor had advised. So I went, bringing two of the African girls with me.

I remember seeing them together was a little weird and akward, but it didn't really bother me like I had thought it would. However, I still had a broken heart. It's hard to explain but I just felt betrayed. A promise had been broken and I felt like something inside of me had been lost. I remember a preacher got up, and he was talking about healing. He said there were people at the conference with physical ailments in their bodies and that God wanted to heal them. I remember at first just thinking ok whatever, I'm fine and I just kinda sat there in my pew. As I sat there I began to think, I said, "God there is nothing wrong physically in my body, but I am so sick of feeling hurt the way I do. Could you please heal my broken heart? I don't remember feeling anything instantly. It was just a simple prayer and then I went on with the conference.

I entered 2008 refreshed and renewed. I began making all kinds of new friends and really started just enjoying being a young person again. All of the sudden one day I realized, I was OVER IT! I didn't feel the hurt anymore and I had no desire to even try and get him back. In fact I was even enjoying my life so much I was even glad that it had all happened. "Hey Theresa! i said to my sister. "Guess what?! i am OVER IT!" She just kinda looked at me and said, "are you sure?" I said, "yes! Absolutley positivley without a doubt in my mind, I am OVER it!" She said "Well it's ABOUT TIME!"

At the end of the year our church ladies have a cookie and gift exchange. Sis. Abbott had us all sitting in a circle and we were going to go around and when it was our turn we were supposed to say what God had done for us that year. When it was my turn I said that this year God had healed my broken heart. I said that I don't what happened but things were just different. It felt like something inside of me had just blossomed and I began meeting so many people, developing new friendships. I started taking extra care with how I looked, just for the fun of looking good. I started writing again and I felt my life beginning to flourish. I said, "I just feel so happy!"

My friend Jacqui says that a wound and a scar are a lot alike. They both come from hurt and pain and they both tell a story of something that happened. The difference between the two is healing. I hear a friend at my church singing a song called, I Believe In Miracles. I know that what my friend has been through is a million times worse than my heartache. So I can't help but stand up to worship when he gets to the part, "He healed my broken heart, he dried those tears from my eyes..." Because thats what Jesus did for me. When I was hurting, I didn't think I would ever be the same again. The truth is, I'm still not the same, but I am better. Because in the place of the wound on my heart is a scar. A scar that tells the story of how Jesus can heal a broken heart.

The LORD is nigh unto them that are of a broken heart...

Psalm 34:18

Grandpa's Cookies

2009-12-07T06:39:00.000-08:00

Red and white dough twisted together, infused with peppermint flavoring and little pieces of peppermint candies- Grandpa’s Candy Cane Cookies. Shortbread dough dipped in milk then rolled in sesame seeds, cooked until golden brown. Best served while still warm with hot chocolate- that’s Grandpa’s Sesame Seed Cookies. As one takes a bite of this next cookie their mouth will be filled with a variety of delightful goodness. This cookie is crusty on the outside and chewy on the inside. It is filled with the sweetness of almond paste and yet salty from the taste of pine nuts- these are Grandpa’s Pinoli Cookies. The all around favorite cookie is a 3-layered, Neapolitan-Italian-flag cookie. In between each layer is a filling of fruit preserves and topped with a thin layer of melted chocolate. Once the chocolate is hardened they are cut into tiny, bite-size squares. We simply call these- Grandpa’s Three-Colored Cookies.
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Every year, at the end of November, my Grandfather, Joseph Mangino, a retired New York City Policeman, would begin his holiday baking. Grandpa was a big man with broad shoulders, a loud booming voice, chubby cheeks a big smile and a twinkle in his eye. Everyone loved his baking and looked forward to it. Then one year everything began to change.
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“I don’t know Franny,” my grandpa says to his daughter who is my mom. “I don’t think I am going to be able to send cookies out to everyone this year.”
“Why not?” Asks my mom.
“I just don’t feel up to it,” he says with a sigh. “I don’t think I could get it all done.” I couldn’t imagine Christmas without Grandpa’s baking. It was a part of who he was and a part of what made Christmas.
“We’ll help you make them,” says my mom. “You can teach the girls. They need to learn anyways.”
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So the baking lessons began…
The thing about Grandpa’s baking lessons was that it didn’t matter if you already knew how to bake. When you were in HIS kitchen, you did things HIS way! I remember standing in the kitchen one day after putting all of the dry ingredients in a bowl; I got out the hand mixture to blend it real well. I plugged it into the wall then stuck it into the bowl, which was on the kitchen counter.
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“Uh, uh,” said Grandpa. “Stick the bowl in the sink and then begin mixing it. This way if any of the flour comes out it will go in the sink.”
“Okay Grandpa,” I said. Next I got out the eggs and began cracking them into the bowl.
“Uh, uh,” said Grandpa. You gotta get a separate bowl and crack each egg individually to make sure the egg is good. Otherwise if one egg is bad it will ruin the whole batter.”
“Okay Grandpa,” I said. I began rolling the cookies out and putting the lumps on the cookie sheets.
“Uh, uh,” said Grandpa. “Those cookies are way to big. Make them smaller.”
“Okay Grandpa,” I said with a sigh.
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When I would get something right Grandpa would nod his head in approval.
“Atta girl Maria, atta girl.” Then when I would take the cookies out of the oven and they were just right Grandpa would smile. “Beautiful, beautiful,” he would say taking a bite.
So became our tradition, each year at Christmas time, my mom, my sister and I would take turns on different days baking cookies with Grandpa.
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“You gotta get this right Mary” Grandpa said to me one year as I baked. “I might not be here next year to show you how to do it.” I was startled to hear him say this.
“Don’t say that.” I said looking up from what I was doing. I couldn’t imagine him not being here.
“Well you never know,” said Grandpa. “Everyone dies some time.”
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We all knew that Grandpa was getting weaker with each passing year. His body was deteriorating from Parkinson disease, but we didn’t want to think about it.
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Then one day it happened. Grandpa died. I remember sitting in his recliner in the living room watching as early in the morning two men from the mortuary came to take his body away. A soft blue blanket covered him as the men rolled his stretcher down the hallway, through his kitchen and out of his house. It took a while for the reality of the situation to really sink in. Grandpa was gone.
However the things that he taught us still live on...
As Christmas time comes around my family and I begin our baking. It’s a family thing and my brother John has picked up the role of BOSSING everyone around now. Through the laughter and teasing of who broke the cookies and who cooked them too long, I remember Grandpa’s words to me;
“You gotta get this right Mary, I might not be here next year.”
“ Don’t worry Grandpa. I promise, I am going to get it right!” I start mixing the ingredients in a bowl on the counter. Then I remember and put the bowl in the sink. I pull out a separate bowl for the eggs and hope the cookies aren’t too big. As I take the cookies from the oven, I know Grandpa would be smiling, nodding his head in approval, satisfied in knowing that his cookies are still being baked. If I listen closely as I take a bite of a cookie I think I hear Grandpa. “Atta girl Maria, atta girl.” I take another bite and savor the taste. “Beautiful, beautiful!”

Thank God for my laundry! ;)

2009-11-25T12:00:00.000-08:00

Laundry. Laundry, laundry, laundry, laundry! Sometimes it seems like that’s all I ever do! I look at the pile of dirty clothes on the chair in my room; it seems to be growing quite rapidly. Then my eyes fall on the overflowing suitcase that still has not been unpacked from the last church conference. Didn’t I just do laundry like last week or something? I sigh; it looks like I am going to have to do laundry again this week too. I scoop up as many clothes as I can carry at one time and head to the wash machine. As I work I can’t help but talk to myself...
“Your such a hard worker girl, people should just start calling you Cinderella.” I give myself a little pat on the back as I open the lid of the wash machine and start putting in my clothes. The whole scene is seriously like right out of the Cinderella Fairytale. I even think I hear my evil stepsisters screaming in the background. “CinderMary! Hem my dress, tie my sash!” Oh but wait, I don’t have any stepsisters and I don’t know how to sew. It must be my wonderful big sister reminding me NOT to use half the gallon of detergent and to remember to take the clothes out to dry, so they don’t sit in the wash machine for a week growing mildew. I head back to my room to reload my arms, sighing dramatically. Just how much longer is this princess gonna have to wait for a rich prince to come along and hire her a housekeeper?
As I am complaining my mind suddenly goes back to a conversation that took place quite a few years ago…
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“It’s recess time!” Says our teacher Mrs. Martina to my fourth grade class at Black Mountain Elementary School in Cave Creek Arizona. “Everyone line up at the door.” As I stand in line waiting, one of the kids turn to me,
“You must really like that skirt Mary, you wear it EVERY day. I look down at my worn, cotton, navy blue skirt.
“Uh, yeah,” I say, “It’s my favorite!”
“Oh, do you have a lot of them?” asks another kid?
“Umm,” I hesitate not sure what to say. The reason I wear the same skirt everyday is not because it is my favorite, but because it is the only play skirt I have. My black skirt is reserved for church on Sundays. I hesitate, then, instead of telling them the truth, I lie.
“Oh yeah,” I say, “I have a lot of skirts just like this one hanging up in my closet!”
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My cheeks burn because I hate lying, but I am too embarrassed to tell the truth. The truth is that every night after I take a shower, put on my pajamas and go to bed, my mom is up late doing laundry. It’s not because she wants to keep up on the laundry, but because if she doesn’t, my siblings and I won’t have any clean clothes to wear to school the next day.
Sometimes my shoes would get so worn the sole would be flopping off of the shoe. Instead of throwing them away my mom would hot glue the sole back on, because new shoes just weren’t in our budget. I can still feel the excitement I felt one day as I was given a new skirt to wear. It was one of the ugliest skirts I have ever seen. It was an old blue granny skirt with little green whales on each side of the pockets. The pockets on the skirt were so huge you could fit a sack of potatoes on each side. Yet I loved that skirt, not because I thought it was cute, but because now I had TWO play skirts. I remember packing for a 3-day youth conference and hoping that no one would notice that I would be wearing the same thing twice.
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I think about my closet now. It is filled with an abundance of beautiful clothes. Clothes that I like and are my own style. Sometimes I wish that these youth conferences were longer because there just isn’t enough services to show-off all my outfits. Hanging on my bedroom door is a shoe rack filled with shoes. Instead of one pair of play shoes and one pair of church shoes, I have the privilege of being able to choose from a variety of shoes whatever I think matches best. Above all this, I even get to accessorize, which I absolutely love to do! ;) I have hooks on the wall filled with cute purses and a drawer full of headbands, flowers, ribbons and clips that add just the right touch to my outfits.
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One Sunday night some of the girls from church and I are in the ladies bathroom excitedly discussing the next youth rally our church is hosting. Of course we are discussing the usual stuff, what guys we hope will show up and all that fun stuff when all of the sudden I gasp.
“Oh no!” I say placing my hand on my heart. “Oh no, oh no!”
“What’s wrong?” the other girls ask worriedly. I sigh,
“What do you guys think I should wear to the youth rally? “ I ask dramatically. Everyone immediately busts up laughing at my crazy antics. It may seem silly, but inside I really am wondering, because I really do have so many beautiful clothes to choose from.
I look down at all the clothes I am piling into the wash machine and I feel a bit shameful for complaining about washing them. I know by the world’s standards I may not be rich, but I am extremely blessed! I am learning to have an attitude of gratitude. Yes, there are a lot of people that don’t have to do their own laundry and too often it is because they don’t even have any laundry to wash.
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As I get back to my laundry I think I can hear the birds singing and I hum a little tune as I work. Ok, ok, lets be honest, THIS IS CinderMARY we’re talking about. ;) It’s more like I hear the music blaring from my playlist and I dance a jig as I sing off key at the top of my lungs, “I feel the joy of the Lord falling fresh on me!” As I dance, I readjust my tiara, pour in the soap, put down the lid and listen as the wash cycle begins. It may seem weird but I smile as I think about washing clothes again next week. This princess thanks God for laundry!

Tears

2009-11-12T08:49:00.000-08:00

I look at my phone and notice I have a text message. It's from my girl.

I quickley open the text to see what she said.

All it says is...

Hey Mamma

Hey Mamma...No one knows.

No one could quite understand what this means to me.

She has never called me this before, but it means so much.I can't stop the tears from trickling down...
I don't bother to wipe them away. I just sit and remember. Just one more time. This story is being reposted just one more time.Updated, edited and revised.

TEARS

What are tears? This was the question that plagued my mind as I began packing her bags. I felt my eyes beginning to fill up. What are tears? I went to her closet and began taking her clothes off the hangers, her polka dot skirt, her zebra print shirt, her cute jean skirt with the embroidered flowers and fringed hem, and began piling them on the bed. I hate crying and I try to stop myself, but I just can’t. The first tear wells up slowly, quickly slipping down my cheek. Than another, another, and another. I touched my eyelashes and they were wet. What are tears? According to Webster’s a tear is simply a drop of salty liquid, which flows from the eye.
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However; at the College of Apostolic Ministries, my teacher, Brother Kelly, emphasized to our class many times how important it is to weep before God. I can hear him so vividly talking to our class, telling us we need to pray for a weeping spirit when we pray. I didn’t understand what could be so important about our tears? Why would God want them? What are tears? I did not know, but I did know that the answer to my question was somehow wrapped around understanding the nature of love.
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The cause of my tears was because the little girl I loved was leaving. Hadassah, who was 11-years-old, had lived with my sister and I for two and a half months, but now her mother had arrived from Liberia and she would be living with her. I tried to be strong as I continued packing her bags, but with each item I packed, I felt like I was packing a piece of my heart.
How Hadassah came to live with me began about five minutes before church one Sunday morning. I was walking out of the ladies prayer room into our sanctuary when my phone rang. It was Hadassah, one of the African refugee kids we pick up for church. Most of the African kids that came to church were from pretty rough homes. I quickly answered the phone...
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“Hadassah? All I heard was uncontrollable crying.

“What’s wrong? “ I asked.
“My grandma doesn’t want me,” she sobbed. “Hadassah had come to the United States with her grandma when she was seven and I had been bringing her to church for about a year at this time.
“What do you mean she doesn’t want you? What happened?” I asked.
“I was bad,” she said, as if that was something new, “I mean really, really bad,” she continued, clarifying herself. “I stole stuff and now my grandma doesn’t want me. I am so scared,” she sobbed. “I want to live with you Mary. Please, please, please let me come live with you!”
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I don’t remember the rest of our conversation, but after church I went over and talked to her grandma, after much discussion, it was agreed that it would be best for Hadassah to come live with my sister and I until her mother arrived from Liberia. I never thought twice about taking Hadassah in. It didn’t matter to me that I was a 24-year-old, single, white lady and she was an 11-year-old black girl with a major attitude. If God wanted me to do this, I would.
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As soon as Hadassah came to live with us I began working with her on the things she needed to change. Sometimes we would sit with her in my lap, rocking on the rocking chair in our living room.
“I don’t know why I steal things,” she told me. “I want to be good, but I keep being bad,” she sighed.
“You can change,” I would tell her, “but you have to ask God to help you.”
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She began to open her heart to me, telling me about the kind of life she had been exposed and hardships she had endured. Hadassah’s own mother was only a year older than I. She said it was typical for an African woman to have kids by 15, often even younger. She said that she was scared she could end up like all the African woman she knew, unmarried with many children.
I told her that it didn’t matter what kind of a life she came from, if she yielded her heart to God, He would use her to do great things. Although it may seem simple, it was working. People were constantly coming to me, telling me what a difference they saw in Hadassah. She felt like God had set her free from her habits of lying, stealing, and cursing. It was like a burden had been lifted from her and there was a special sweetness about her now.
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With Hadassah around life was always fun and interesting. I’ll never forget when we took her on a family vacation to San Diego. Hadassah and I were out wave jumping in the ocean when all of a sudden a big gulp of water went into her mouth.
“Who put the salt in here?” She said spitting it out, disgusted.
“God did,” I said laughing.
“Oh, well if God did it then I guess its okay,” she said.
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Every night we read the bible together, and prayed, always remembering to ask God to bring her mother here quickly. Hadassah had her own room but she always preferred sleeping on the floor beside my bed. One night I was drifting off to sleep when Hadassah woke me…
“Mary,’ she whispered. I tried to pretend I was sleeping. “Mary,” she whispered again, louder this time.
“What?” I said groaning in annoyance.
“I want to sing like a black girl,” she said. I sighed,
“So what do you want me to do? You're black, just start singing!”
“Teach me!” She said.
“How in the world do you expect me to do that?” I said sitting up in bed now.
“Please Mary!”
“Dude Hadassah,” I said laughing. “I wish I could sing well for a white girl and you want me to teach you to sing like a black girl?”
“Oh come on Mary,” she said.
“Okay, okay,” I said giving in, “Repeat after me, Oh happy day,” I said belting out my best black imitation. This resulted in the two of us laughing hysterically.
“You don’t sound like no black girl,” she said laughing.
“See,” I said, “I told you I couldn’t teach you!”
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Our lives continued on together, in a comfortable, fun way. But sooner than we had anticipated her mother arrived from Africa. We had prayed for this to happen every night before bed. Now it seemed like God had answered our prayers too quickly.
I remember the two of us sitting on the floor in my classroom at church, sobbing. I pulled her onto my lap.
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“I don’t want to go back Mary!”
“No matter what happens Hadassah, I love you,” I said. “You’ll always be my baby.”
“How can I be your baby? You did not born me,” she said falling back into her broken English.
“Hadassah,” I said, “I may not have physically given birth to you, but I borned you in my heart!” "I don’t want to go back,” she said sobbing again.
“I know,” I said softly. I know, I know, I know. As we sat there crying, our tears fell onto each other, binding our hearts forever.
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After Hadassah went back, I watched sadly as she slowly began to slip back into her old ways. She is 12 now and beginning to grow into a young lady. She is absolutely beautiful, but the childlike sweetness is gone, replaced by and exterior of false happiness. My heart tightens as I see her in her tight shirts and short-shorts.
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It’s a Sunday evening and I am with my friend Jacqui, seeing if any of the kids want to come to church. I see Hadassah out playing basketball
“Hey Hadassah” I say, “Give me a hug!” She comes running over and I pull her into an embrace. She smiles as she runs her fingers through my waist-length hair and tells me I look pretty with my hair down.
“I am praying for you,” I say.
“Thank you,” she says softly. I touch her cheeks and feel the smoothness of them; they are still just as soft as I remember.
“You know that you are still my baby, right Hadassah?”
“Yes, I know.” she says. We look at each other for a minute, remembering. Then the moment is broken. She reaches into my zebra print purse and grabs my last two sticks of sweet watermelon gum, “Can I have these?” She asks.
“Yeah, sure,” I say smiling. We say goodbye, then instead of going to church, she zooms off, in her super-mini, mini skirt and continues playing basketball.
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The next day is Monday. Another morning has come and as I arise from my slumber. I know what I must do. I wipe my sleepy eyes and drag my body to the living room. I feel like going back to sleep, but there is something that compels me to go on. So I plop down on the brown rug in our living room and I begin to pray. And as I pray I begin thinking about Hadassah...
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“Oh God,” I cry out. “Get a hold of my little girl.” I begin to feel that familiar trembling. “Watch over her Jesus. Send your angels to stand guard over her.” I feel tears beginning to fill up in my eyes. “Don’t let her forget God,” A tear slips out of my eye. “When she listens to that worldly music, remind her of singing ‘I got the Holy Ghost’. When she puts on immodest clothes, remind her of the day she gave all that up. When she feels the heaviness of sin, reassure her that there is forgiveness at an alter of repentance.”
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My nose is running as the tears continue to fall. I touch my eyelashes and they are wet. I taste the tears; they are salty. But it’s okay; I don’t mind the tears now. Because I know that God put them there, just like He put the salt in the ocean. And although so much has changed with Hadassah, there is one thing that remains the same; I still love her.
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What are tears? Now I am beginning to understand. I am starting to see why Brother Kelly kept emphasizing the importance of them in prayer. I know now why God wants them. God knows that we only cry over someone we care about. What are tears? Tears are so much more than just a salty liquid that flows from the eyes. Tears are what happen when you love someone so much it begins to leak out.

Turned Around

2009-10-24T20:18:00.000-07:00

Dirty. Vile. Empty. Worthless.

That’s how this 17-year-old skater punk says he felt as he stood in his backyard the morning after his acid trip. He couldn’t shake the memories of what the acid had done to him the night before. He was filled with fear and paranoia.

For three days he stayed at his house, too scared to go outside. He had so many friends, but he felt all alone. How had this happened? When did his life become so miserable?

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“I just wanted to be cool,” says Samuel Karlson, a Building Repair technician at the Mayo Clinic in Scottsdale. Karlson says that he was raised in a Pentecostal church, but as he got older he last interest. At Paradise Valley High School, Karlson says that all the Christians were considered geeks, and he had a strong desire to be popular. He says he would do just about anything to fit in.

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At the time, Karlson did not realize that it was the miserable state he found himself in after his acid trip, that would cause him to become the devoted Christian he is today.

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“The first time I smoked pot was in seventh grade,” says Karlson. He doesn’t remember how, but one of his friends got some pot. Karlson and his buddy went to Look-Out Mountain Park by his house. He says he was scared to death about taking drugs, but he did it anyways. He was really uncomfortable with the way he felt being high.

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“But it grows on you,” he says. “One thing leads to another and before you know it, you’re caught up in a hole.”
Karlson says that he was not a drug addict. He says he never needed any specific drug. He and his friends just did whatever they had on hand whenever they felt like it, but never a specific drug.

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What Karlson really liked was alcohol. The first time he got drunk was when he was a freshman in high school. It was at a party his older brother threw while his parents were out of town. He says he remembers getting so drunk that he can’t even remember what happened. His sister had to cone in and check on him periodically through out the night to make sure he wasn’t choking on his vomit.

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Although Karlson’s first experience with drinking wasn’t the most pleasant, he did enjoy the way he felt drunk.

“It was fun,” he says, “and very addicting.”

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Karlson continued drinking, partying and having fun. But soon it wasn’t just at parties that he and his friends would get high or drunk. This soon became their lifestyle. Karlson says it didn’t matter what they were doing- going to school, hanging out, going to the mall, skateboarding or anything.

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One day he got arrested and expelled from school for getting caught doing drugs off campus during lunch. But that didn’t stop him. He went back and forth between high schools, getting kicked out of one and going to another.

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Then one night he and his buddies tried acid. Taking acid was the most miserable thing he had ever done. Karlson says it wasn’t like the typical high he had felt with other drugs. Everything around him was freaky. Any little movement would make him jump. Things started moving, and he had no control over them.

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His friend had a poster hanging up on his bedroom wall of different marijuana leaves, and all the leaves started changing colors. Karlson went into his friend’s bathroom, and the butterflies on the toilet seat cover started flying. He was filled with fear, and he hated every moment of it.

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The drug lasted all night, and he didn’t get home until 8 or 9 in the morning. When he got home Karlson said his dad, who is a very hard worker, told him he needed to paint the shed in their backyard. Karlson says he remembers trying to paint the shed, but instead he broke down crying.

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He started thinking about how his life used to be, before he stopped going to church, before he started partying, drinking and doing drugs. He started thinking about the camping and hunting trips he used to go on with his pastor and friends from church.

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“I remembered how happy I was and how peaceful life used to be,” says Karlson.

As he stood there with the paintbrush in his hand, tears streaming down his face, he realized that he had lost his innocence. He realized what he had given up and what he was really missing out on.

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For three days following his acid trip, Karlson was too scared to leave his house. Although he didn’t realize it at the time, he says now that that trip was one of the biggest blessings God has ever given him. Even though he wasn’t ready yet to turn his life back to God, from that point on, nothing was fun anymore.

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His life just kept getting more and more miserable. Karlson says from that point on, he quit doing drugs and turned completely to alcohol. But he was no longer drinking for the fun of getting drunk. Now he was drinking to escape the way he felt inside and to forget the horrible memory of his acid trip.

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He says he was so depressed that if he didn’t have a fear of hell he knows he would have killed himself. “I didn’t even feel like a person anymore,” says Karlson. He did whatever he wanted, but nothing made him happy.

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“To some degree I may have been pretty popular,” says Karlson, “but my buddies and I also had a lot of enemies.”

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He says one time he got into an all-out brawl with one of his good buddies because the guy jokingly flicked the cigarette Karlson had in his mouth into the air. “It was the middle of the night, in the middle of the street, and we were slugging it out,” says Karlson.

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Karlson says that although he was filled with so much hate and so much violence, still he continued on this way. Every day he would think, “Tonight I am just going to drink one more time with my buddies, and then I’ll tell them that I am going back to church.”

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Then one night Karlson went out drinking with his buddies. He came home drunk and went to sleep. Two hours later he woke up scared to death. He could feel the same paranoia he felt the night he did acid.

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“I was so scared I went to my mom’s room and woke her up,” says Karlson.
All he could think about was getting to wherever God was. He says he wanted to pray with his mom at the church because he figured that must be where God was.

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“I didn’t realize that I could talk to God anywhere,” says Karlson. He says that he was so desperate he had his mom call up their pastor, David Abbott, to ask if they could go to the church to pray. Despite the time of night, his pastor told them to come over to his house and they would pray together.

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When Karlson and his mother got there, Bro. Abbott began talking to him about repentance. Karlson doesn’t remember everything that happened, but he remembers that he prayed until he prayed back through to the Holy Ghost, until he felt God’s spirit come back inside of him.

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“I felt like a person again,” says Karlson. He says that to this day one of his most vivid memories was the van ride back home from his pastor’s house. By this time it was about 3 a.m. but he felt such peace. He says it was like the calm after a storm.

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When Karlson got home, he started cleaning out his room. He got rid of clothes, music, posters, anything that had to do with his old lifestyle. He says that he threw away his cigarettes and never again had a craving for them. Karlson says that he never went on a 12-step plan to help him with his addictions. He just surrendered his life completely to God and obeyed his word.

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“My mom never gave up on me,” says Karlson. “It’s like she was just waiting for me to come to her that night. My mom is my angel.”

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Today Karlson is aspiring to be in the ministry at Landmark Pentecostal Church in Scottsdale Arizona. He is involved in the ACTs program and teaches the Wednesday night boy’s bible class. He says that his career goal is to be a preacher.

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“I don’t think that I would ever be happy doing anything else,” says Karlson.

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In February of 2009, Karlson got married. Him and his wife are very involved in outreach and the children’s ministry. The week they got back from their honeymoon, the newley weds immediately began helping pick children up for church.

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It amazes Karlson that God would still forgive him after all he did. He says he was raised going to church, in a good home, with good parents, but he threw it all away.

Karlson says part of the reason why he loves God so much now, is because he finally realized how much God loves him. Karlson says when he came back he had nothing to offer God.

“God took me back anyway,” says Karlson,

"and He made something, out of my messed up life.”

The Coffee Mug

2009-05-08T14:42:00.000-07:00

A coffee mug. It was just a plain ordinary coffee mug. White and ceramic with no special design. She says she had never noticed it before, but now she looked at it all the time. It was her favorite mug and she says that often she would just sit and stare at it. More than just being her favorite mug, she admired it, even wished that she could be like it. She says she remembers the day her absurd admiration for it began. “I remember it clearly,” she says, “just like yesterday.”

She stood in the entryway of the kitchen in their small, dilapidated home and shuttered as she heard her father’s voice beginning to rise.

“You fat slob!” He yelled to her mom, as she handed him his dinner. She thought her mom looked fine, in her clean, ironed dress, her hair pulled back and twisted up on her head. Her mom ignored him as she continued handing him the food.

“I’m not eating that slop!” He said sneering at the perfectly good plate of food. Then she watched horrified as he raised his hand and threw his coffee mug against the wall. He threw the mug so hard it broke through the drywall, hit a beam and then bounced onto the linoleum floor. She held her breath as she waited for the sound of shattering glass, but her ears were met with a thud and then silence. Eyes widened as she spotted the coffee mug. It lay on the hard linoleum floor, unbroken. Shocked, she just stared at it.

Eventually, the mug was picked up, washed, dried and put back on the in the kitchen cupboard. The hole in the wall was patched and then painted over to blend in with the rest of the wall. Soon the incident was forgotten and blurred together with many other incidents, similar to this one, but she never forgot.

She says every time she saw the mug she remembered. She remembers sitting at the kitchen table and just staring at the mug. She thought it was so cool. Not her father’s actions, but the mug’s response to her father’s actions. After being thrown against a wall and falling to a hard floor, there wasn’t even a crack in it. “That amazed me,” she said.

“I was proud of the mug for not breaking,” she says. It was after this incident that she decided she wanted to be like the mug. She wanted to be like it because it reminded her of someone. It reminded her of her hero. It reminded her of her mom and her unbreakable faith in God.

“No matter what has come my mom’s way in life, she has never wavered her faith in God,” she says. She says that she remembers her mom being so sick, but still bringing her to church. She remembers when her dad started drinking and he lost his job, her mom just kept on trusting God. Throughout surgeries, family strife, bills, failures, heartache, tears and deaths, she watched her mom remain steadfast. Despite hurts and offenses and things that just don’t make sense, her mom continued to love God. Proclaiming that all things work together for good, to them that love the Lord.

No matter what the circumstances were in her mom’s life, she always remembers her mom’s words of wisdom for life’s storms.

“Just keep your eyes on Jesus, her mom would say, “and everything will be all right.“ She says her mom was always ready to testify at church. Always giving God thanks for something. Always giving God glory for saving her and leading her to truth. She says that no matter what, you could hear her mom singing loudly. “Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me. I once was lost, but now I’m found. I was blind, but now I see.”

“I’m all grown up now,” she says, “and I have no idea what ever happened to that coffee mug.”

However, the memory of the mug is forever etched in her mind. A coffee mug. White and ceramic with no special design. Just a plain, ordinary coffee mug. Perhaps to some, but, not for her. She says it’s still her hero and she still wants to be just like it.

“No matter what life brings my way,” she says, “I want to hold on tightly to the things of God.”

Unwavering. Unfaltering. Steadfast. True. “Just like my mom,” she says. Strong and unbreakable.

“Yeah,” she says, “I wanna be like that coffee mug.”

Is it worth it?

2009-04-17T04:27:00.000-07:00

* This is my mom's story. I wrote it for her in first person. It is her testimony...

For me being a teacher had always been more than just a career. It was my aspiration in life, my passion and a dream come true. I had gone to five years of school at Arizona State University to obtain my Masters degree in Special Education. I turned in 25 applications and went on six different interviews before I got my first teaching job. After moving back to New York City and getting married, it was even harder for to find a job because I had been educated in Arizona. However, I finally got a job at a private school for kids that had been kicked out of all the public schools in NYC. My position was teaching the teenage boys.

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These were the kids that nobody wanted; but I loved being their teacher and they loved me as well. There was just something about being able to give them the knowledge to help them prepare for life. It was like deep down inside there was goodness about them that I could help bring out. You had to let them see what was inside themselves. Let them see their own self worth. Being their teacher was very enjoyable and fulfilling in my life.

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Yet despite all this I had made up my mind; I was quitting my position. I was putting aside my teaching position for a new position that had recently opened up. I was becoming a mother. Although my husband does not go to church, he backed my decision to be a stay-at-home-mom. Because his mother had been a stay-at-home-mom he saw the importance in that decision.
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When I let the faculty of the school know that I would not be coming back they were very shocked. Everyone knew that I loved my job and was quite surprised I would be giving it up for my baby. They kept asking me, “Are you sure? Are you sure this is what you want to do? Are you sure you don’t want to just take a maternity leave?” I knew in mind that what they were really trying to ask me was, ‘is it worth it? Is being a mom worth giving up your career?’ But it didn’t matter what they said I was sure about my decision and to me it was worth it.

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The moment I held Theresa, my firstborn in my arms, teaching was put on the back burner. I had a new passion, a new dream and a new career. I was a mommy now and I loved every moment of it. It was just the best thing. You have this little person that was created by God, given to you to care and nurture for. I had such good times.

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When my second child Joseph was 3-months old I got a phone call. It was the Vice- principal of the private school I had taught the boys at. She was calling to tell me that she had recently become the principal of the private school and that the vice-principal position was now open. After thinking about it she felt like I was the best person for the job and was calling to offer me the position. WOW! I was honored that without even an interview I was being offered the vice-principal position.

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I remembered the decision I had made about staying home with my children. The unspoken question went through my mind, “is it worth it?” I looked at my precious, little 3-month old baby and made up my mind.
“Sorry I said to the new principal, but I am a mommy now and that is my job.”
The principal was quite shocked by my response, but as I rocked my little baby in my arms, I knew it was worth it.

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In all, I ended up having five children. My husband did not have a college education so his job was not as high paying as mine had been. My income had added a lot to our financial status. Because of this there were times when money was quite tight. What it really came down to was sacrifice. There were some things in our life we would have to learn to live without. The bible says, “Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal: But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal: For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.”(Matthew 6:19-21)
I felt that by staying home with my kids, Theresa, Joseph, Mary, John and Abraham, I was laying up some treasures in heaven.

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There were some times when things were hard. I remember the time our wash machine broke and for eight months I hand washed our laundry. My arms would be so tired and I would think, is it worth it? I remember when in the middle of the Arizona summer our swamp cooler went out and for 3-months we went without any kind of air conditioner. As the sweat dripped down my brow, I would think, is it worth it? As I looked at the one, worn out dress in my closet, is it worth it?

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It wasn’t always easy or fun to stick by the decision I had made. We never had money for extras. We never had money to go out to eat, not even for fast food. We rarely went on vacations. Having a house phone was just an extra expense so we had it turned off. We had no health insurance and no house insurance. Sometimes we would eat the same exact meal, rice and chop meat, every night for months, because I had stocked up on those items when they were on sale. People would say, “ How could you live like that?” It’s called trusting in God. The bible says God will supply all our needs; I just had to trust that God would take care of us.

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Sticking, to my decision was a continuous sacrifice and even though it may have seemed like we were really destitute, the reality is that we were really just fine without all those things. The truth, although this may seem hard to believe, is that, wash machines, air conditioners, extra clothes, house phones, cell phones, and restaurants are all luxuries. Things we really like, but don’t really need!

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There were times when God gave our family miracles that helped along the way and there were other times when we just had to trust in God. I remember one time we had no food and no money. Somehow I found myself in a grocery store, trying to figure out how to get food for my family. I remember feeling so desperate I asked God, Would it be wrong if I just took a loaf of bread and a gallon of milk for my children? God said, “Wrong is wrong!” So I went back out to our van, sat there and cried.

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Was it worth it? I could have been in a well off position with a secure job. Instead I was trying to figure out how to get food to feed my family. Yet, more than anything else, I still wanted to take care of my children. I wanted to be there when my kids got up in the morning. I wanted to get them ready for school. I wanted get them on the bus and be there when they came home. Even though by now my 3 older children were in school, I still couldn’t get a day job because I still had two little ones at home with me. I didn’t want them being taken care of by ungodly people. So I continued on.

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I remember one day my daughter Mary came home from fourth grade and told me about something that happened that day at recess. She said that her and a group of kids were standing around talking. All the kids were bragging about their parent’s careers. Some kid’s parent’s were doctors, lawyers, police officers etc…then they turned to Mary and said, “So what does your mom do?” As a child, Mary was very quiet and shy so when they asked her she said that she was kind of embarrassed when she explained that her mom was just a mom. She said the kids kind of snickered when they heard this and said, “You mean she just stays at home and doesn’t do anything?” When they did this Mary got annoyed. She squared her shoulders, stuck out her chin and said,
“Well actually, my mom has her Master’s degree. She could work if she wanted to, but she chooses to stay home with her children because she says that we mean more to her than all the money in the world!” It was moments like this that my decision to stay home was reconfirmed.

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Despite the hard times there were also some great miracles God did for our family. When we first got in the church I remember sitting down and figuring out our finances. After paying all the bills and paying tithes, we had no money left for food. I remember praying and asking God to somehow supply food for our family. All of the sudden there was a knock on my door. It was my sister-in-law with boxes of food. “Here,” she said breezing in, “my husband’s mom thought you could use these.” Then she was gone. I was so grateful for the food I called the lady that had them to thank. She said told that she was going through her pantry and just found all this extra food that she wasn’t going to use. So she boxed it up. Then on three separate pieces of paper wrote the names of three families she thought would benefit the most from the food. She put the names in a box and prayed that God would help her to pick the family that he wanted it to go to. Our family was the name she picked.

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Another time I had figured out all our bills to the exact amount that I had in our bank account. I wrote out checks to all the bill companies, put them in a stamped envelope and put them in the mail. As I was driving down the street I realized that I had miscalculated the amount of money we had in the bank. We were exactly ten dollars short. I knew that this meant our account would bounce and extra fees would be added on as well. But it was to late, the checks were already in the mail. There was nothing she could do, except pray.

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“God, I prayed, you have to help me somehow get ten dollars so our account doesn’t bounce!” We stopped at a red light between Tatum and Shea, when all of the sudden I saw something green blowing back and forth in the intersection as cars drove by. I squinted my eyes to get a better look. “That’s MONEY!” I yelled. We got a green arrow so all the other cars stopped driving. My daughter Mary was about 9-years-old at the time, volunteered to get the money. She jumped out of the van, ran out to the intersection and grabbed the money. (Really, it was safe!) She smiled as she got in the van and said, “It’s ten dollars!” We immediately turned the van around and put it in the bank.

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Another time I was getting in the van at the post office when I saw something fluttering in the wind. It was a fifty-dollar bill. At Christmas time we were always blessed with presents for the kids. God put in on a man named Claude Jacot, who lived in Switzerland to give us money twice for new vans when we needed them. God ALWAYS supplied our needs.

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I look now at my five children all grown up, living for God. My oldest daughter Theresa co-teaches with me in the toddler bible class at church. She has two foster children and is planning on adopting. Her foster daughter Marry Joe says that she has a happy home now and that her new mom has made her happy.

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My second born Joseph is involved in preaching and has done some missions in the Philippines. He recently married a beautiful Filipino girl named Jewel, the daughter of a pastor in the Philippines. Jewel is a blessing to our church with her singing. They will soon be having their own baby.

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My middle child Mary loves writing for the Lord. She teaches the young girls bible class and is very involved in outreach and helping bring people to church. She is a nanny to two children and has the opportunity to impact their lives. Mary feels especially called to the African refugee people God led her to several years ago.

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John is my second to last. He teaches the young man’s class at church. He is involved in outreach and does the PA during church. At age 16 he was diagnosed with Leukemia. Throughout the whole process he kept a good attitude and I never heard him complain. He is currently in remission and actively involved in the work of God.

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Abraham is the baby of the family. He is a hard worker and loves God. When he was 15 years old he moved out of our house to live with his elderly grandfather. He helped take care of his Grandpa for the last two years of his grandfather’s life. Abraham is also involved in outreach and dreams of one day having his own farm.

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The fact that I have five children living for God, when they were raised in a home where only one parent was living for God is an absolute miracle. I honestly believe that it is because of my decision to stay home with them. They already had the worldly influence of one parent in the home. If I had been at work instead of at home, their caregiver would just have been another worldly influence in their lives.

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I am not saying all this to give myself credit. All the glory and honor goes to God. My desire to share this is that I might help inspire or encourage other woman to make the same sacrifice. Yes, it may be hard at times but if you trust in God he will give you the strength. Our financial situation was extreme. Most men have better paying jobs than my husband. Remember, sacrifice is giving up something good, for something better.

I believe God honored my decision to stay home with them and the reward is ALL my children living for God. The bible says that there is no greater joy than that our children walk in truth. Was it worth it? I think about all the things we went through and all the things we gave up, then I look at my children and I think, YES, it was worth it!

Reaching Back

2009-03-27T16:23:00.000-07:00

Outreach. Outreach, outreach, outreach, outreach! The last thing felt like doing was outreach. I sat in the van sulking, waiting for my brother John to come out of the house. We were heading over to Paradise Shadows, an apartment complex located in Palomino Square, a rougher part of the Phoenix area where a lot of our Sunday school children live. I had gotten into a fight with a sibling the night before and was still in a bad mood. I was tired from work and weary in my spirit. Everything inside of me was saying stay home. However, I figured I better go since I was the one that had planned the outreach. Plus, I knew the kids were looking forward to it. I had promised them their favorite pink cookies and they enjoyed the time being spent with them. Still, at the moment, outreach was the last thing I felt like doing.

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How could I do outreach when I felt sad, miserable and had a totally bad attitude? The whole point of outreach is to somehow reach beyond oneself and show to show these children God’s love. There is a saying that says; “Children are like sponges, they absorb everything right out of you.” I knew from experience, especially with these children, just how true this saying was. These children that lived there were mostly African refugees. I knew these kids probably needed the love and attention more than anyone else I knew. Yet I felt like my spirit was already sucked dry and empty. It seemed like there wasn’t anything even left within me for these children to absorb.

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“Well here goes nothing,” I grumbled to myself as we pulled into the parking lot. I grabbed my cookies, slammed the door and headed over to the playground. There were a lot of kids out this evening. There were some older guys playing basketball, little kids swinging, girls doing flips on gym bars, a soccer ball being kicked around, the famous dirty-sock game, (Which is some sort of version of monkey-in-the-middle, a game they used to play in Africa.), wild boys climbing to the top of the swing set instead of actually swinging, kids fighting, cussing, yelling, crying, lauging and of course little 3 and 4 year-olds running around with no adult supervision. It was total pandemonium and chaos, but nothing unusual, just a normal, typical day at Paradise Shadows.

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No one seemed to notice me as I walked by, sitting on top of one of the picnic tables, I continued sulking. I should have just stayed home. I was about to tell my brother we should leave when I heard my name being called.

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“Mary! Mary!” I looked over and saw Manific, a 5-year-old girl. She climbed up on to the table with me, giving me hug then sitting in my lap. As we sat together, something in my heart began to warm up. One by one the kids began to notice me, giving me hugs and fighting to sit in my lap, making me smile.

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“Mary! Mary!” Another voice called out, “did you bring the pink cookies?” It was Festina, a 14-year-old girl that was seriously the biggest fan of my pink cookies.
“Oh yeah,” I said pulling out the cookies, “I almost forgot about these.”
“Yes!” Squealed Festena as I began passing out the cookies. “These are my favorite, I love them!”
“Yeah I know,” I said laughing as I handed her a cookie.
“Mmmm!” she said as she took a bite, totally exaggerating the deliciousness of the cookie.

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Totally energized, I began to push some of the smaller kids on the swings. Took turns spinning around in circles until we were too dizzy to walk straight and sang everyone’s all around favorite church song; I got the Holy Ghost, which was screamed at the top of our lungs, totally off key.
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After a while I saw Esther, a 12-year-old girl that lived with me for a while.
“Esther! I haven’t seen you in FOREVER!” I exclaimed, squeezing her with a big bear hug. “Come on,” I said. “Lets go bring some cookies to Martina.”

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As we walked over to Martina’s, I stopped and said hi to different people offering them pink cookies. By the time we got back to the playground the cookies were gone and it was time to go home. I got lots of hugs as I said goodbye and got in our van. Even as we pulled away, there were kids screaming and chasing the van. Driving home I felt so happy. I couldn’t help but smile. Everything seemed better, brighter, and cheerier. I didn’t feel tired anymore and I wasn’t even mad at my sister. Instead of feeling empty, I felt full and overflowing with happiness. I was surprised I felt this way. What was it that had happened with the kids that changed my whole perspective?

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I had thought spending time with them would only make me feel worse, instead the opposite had happened. A scripture went through my mind “For I was an hungered, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in: Naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visited me: I was in prison and ye came unto me (Matthew 25:35-36) I realized that when I reached out to those children, I was in a way reaching out to God.

The saying came back to me; Children are like sponges, they absorb everything right out of you, but a Family Circus Comic strip finishes the quote by saying, but then they squeeze you with a hug and you get it all right back.

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When I passed out cookies, pushed children on the swings or held them in my lap, I was doing it unto The Lord. The little hand holding my big hand wasn’t just any hand, but God’s hand. While I was being Jesus to them, they were being Jesus to me. …Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me (Matthew 25:40).

When you do unto The Lord you never come up empty handed, because while you are reaching on your side, God's hand is on the other side reaching right back.

Plugging In

2009-03-12T13:55:00.000-07:00

“This CD player is soooo stupid,” I yelled in frustration. All I wanted to do was listen to my music, but no matter how many times I hit the play button, the CD player refused to turn on. At this point my brother came in my room to see what was going on. After I told him, he observed the situation for about ten seconds then said,“You know, it might help if you actually plugged the CD player into the wall.”
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Aha! So that’s what the problem was! It was such on obvious mistake and such a simple task to fix the problem. However, in my frustration and embarrassment, I refused to take my brother’s suggestion.
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“Why should I plug it in? I said. “It is a CD player. I have a CD in it, I hit play, now it better play the music!” At this point my brother just looked at me like I was crazy.
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Yet, as foolish as it may seem for me to expect a CD player to work without plugging it into the wall, situations like this happen all the time. We expect great things to happen in our walk with God, without plugging in with Jesus, our spiritual source of power.
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Have you ever struggled with something in your life? Has there ever been something that you tried to get the victory over, but continually failed? At one time or another we have all struggled with something in our life. We have all felt the guilt of failures and mistakes. As an Apostolic young person, there was something in my life that I really struggled with for several years.
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The thing that I struggled with was watching television. You may be thinking; what’s the big deal about watching a little television? That’s no great sin. For me it was a big deal. I had grown up my whole life without a television in our home. I was taught my whole life not to watch it and I understood why I shouldn’t. I knew that television was full of corruption, violence, cussing and imoralitey. Out of my devotion to God I had chosen to keep television out of my life. Now, as a young person, I struggled with this commitment to God.
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It’s easy to not watch T.V. when you are never around one. Now it was different. I worked in an environment that allowed me to watch television whenever I wanted. Now the temptation was right there in front of me and it was a lot harder to turn my head, close my eyes. Instead of turning to God, I gave in and began watching shows.
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The whole time I hated what I was doing. Over and over, I would promise God I wouldn’t watch T.V. anymore. Then slowly it would creep back, and once again I would find myself breaking my promise. I wanted to do right, but no matter how hard I tried I kept doing wrong. Because of one thing I lacked in my life I did not have the power to overcome this temptation.
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Its not like I was a horrible person. I was still living for God, just not to my full potential. Although at times I am known be a little crazy and hyper, most people would consider me to be a pretty good girl. I got the Holy Ghost when I was six and have always loved God. However, the one thing I lacked was a prayer life. Without prayer I didn't have God’s strength. I lacked the power to live an overcoming life.
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So I continued on with my life, trying to live for God, still struggling with television. One year at a Conqueror’s Conference youth convention in Tucson Arizona, I got the revelation I needed to overcome my struggle. During one of the evening services the power of God came very strongly into the church. As I was praying, I felt the spirit of God fall on me. I remember feeling awestruck by His power. Never in my life had I felt the spirit of God so strong. I was praying and crying and weeping before God. ‘This is it I thought. This is my victory. I am going to go home from this youth conference and not ever watch T.V. again.’
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Then, smack dab, right in the middle of this awesome experience with God, I felt a rumbling in my stomach. I couldn’t believe it, my stomach was growling. How could I be hungry at such a spiritual moment? However, it was through the growling of my stomach that God really began to speak to me.
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“You see Mary, you are still human. You are still weak. It doesn’t matter what you get from me right now. What matters is what you do when you get back home. If you want to change, you’re going to have to make a change in your own life.” I knew right then and there, if I wanted things to be different, I was going to have to get a prayer life.
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Living for God is a constant spiritual fight. We may get the victory in one spiritual battle, but the war isn’t over until we get to heaven. Paul openly talks about his own struggle in Romans chapter seven. “For that which I do I allow not: for what I would, that do I not; but what I hate, that do I.” (Romans 7:15)
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It doesn’t matter how much we may want or desire to do good; we are still human. Paul says that in us dwelleth no good thing. From the moment we are conceived, we are bound to fail. Before we even breathe our first breath, evil and iniquity is already in us. No one sits down and teaches a little kid how to lie, but they all do. Nobody has to teach us how to sin; it comes naturally.
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However, Paul goes on in Romans eight to say, “There is therefore now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus, who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit. For the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus hath made me free from the law of sin and death” (Romans 8:1-2). What Paul is saying is that on our own we are bound to failure, but through Jesus, we have the power to overcome sin. A man once said, “To be a Christian without prayer is no more possible than to be alive without breathing”(Martin Luther King Jr.). It’s like trying to drive a car without putting gas in it or trying to make a CD play work, without plugging it in to the wall.
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So as I stood in my room hitting the play button on my CD player I decided to do something. Instead of continuing to act like a fool, I got smart and listened to my brother. I took the cord to my CD player, plugged it into the wall and hit play. What do you know, the most amazing thing happened, music began to flow into my ears.
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I figured if it worked for my CD player, perhaps it would work in my walk with God as well. When I got back from that Conqueror’s Conference I determined I was going to develop a prayer life. What do you know, as I began praying, the most amazing thing happened, God gave me strength to overcome my struggle. Since gaining a prayer life, God has given me strength to stop watching television. Having a prayer life has changed me. It has made my heart softer and my spirit more sensitive to the things of God.
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The reason why I pray is not because I am some kind of super-spiritual person. I pray because I am not a super-spiritual, goody-goody, perfect kind of person. I pray because I am weak and I need God’s strength. As humans, we are temporal, finite beings. Therefore, we must go to the one that is eternal, infinite and supernatural to receive our strength.
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Don’t be ignorant, continually trying to overcome sin on your own; Ask God for his strength. The key to keeping the victory you get in revival or at a conference, is through a daily time of prayer. Don’t be foolish, plug in with Jesus, the spiritual source of power in your life.

To God Be The Glory

2009-02-23T14:03:00.000-08:00

What if your mom was a drug addict, in and out of jail? What if you were just one of five children that your mother had conceived by four different men? How would you feel if you were suicidal by age nine and a ward of the state at age 13?
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“I felt hopeless,” says Jacqueline Cleveland, a member of Pastor David Abbott’s church in Scottsdale Arizona. “It seemed that I was destined to live like this always. I thought that only people in books lived happily ever after. By age 12, I was young, but I felt so old.”
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It was only with the help of relatives who introduced Jacqueline to Christ that her life began to change.
Today she sits in the grass, snuggled up in a blanket, wisps of her light blonde hair blowing in the wind.
She laughs, “You ask me what I liked to do in my spare time. Like duh! I like to do what other girls do, talk about guys, go shopping, talk about guys, hang out with my friends, talk about guys…you know, the usual.
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For this young lady, being a typical young person is a dream come true. “I dreamed it, but it was an unreachable dream,” she says. “Deep down inside, I always thought I would be just like my mom.
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Though she’s not on that path now, it is easy to see why Jacqueline would feel this way. Only as a teenager did Jacqueline emerge from this ongoing nightmare.
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In a home filled with alchoholics and druggies, the nighttime was always the scariest for Jacqueline; she never knew what was going to happen while she and her siblings tried to sleep. Her mom’s boyfriend regularly beat her mother. She remembers one night more than all the others.
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“One night I woke up to the sound of sobbing,” Jacqueline states. “I just laid there and listened as it got louder and louder. I watched as my mom came in the room and crawled into bed with my younger sister, sobbing the whole time. I kept watching as my mom clung to a little seven-year-old for protection. The he came in. He picked my mom up by her hair while she still clung to my little sister. Then he began to beat her.
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After that, Jacqueline always had trouble sleeping at night.
“I used to wake up every morning to a wet pillow," says Jacqueline, "because throughout the entire night, even while I slept, I cried.”
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Jacqueline first began contemplating suicide when she found out that her step-dad was not her biological father. All she knows of her biological father comes from a few pictures and an old love letter that he wrote to her mom. In the letter he writes about how excited he is about having his own child. He talks about marrying her mom and become of him.
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“For a while I hated my dad for leaving me in situation I was in. But I don’t even know him, and I really don’t know what happened. No one will ever talk about the time of my birth,” says Jacqueline.
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Life began to change for her when her Grandma Cleveland began bringing her to church as a ten-year-old girl. Her Grandma, Betty Cleveland, is actually the mother of one of Jacqueline’s step-father’s, also the mother of Sis. Darcy Abbott who is married David Abbott, the pastor of Landmark Pentecostal Church in Scottsdale.
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Jacqueline had grown up a strict Catholic girl, so her first reaction to an Apostolic church was,
“These people are weird! says Jacqueline with a laugh.” However, even though she thought the church was weird, she enjoyed the social aspect and kept coming.
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Jacqueline says she will never forget the night she got the Holy Ghost. It was May of 1996 at a church retreat at the campgrounds in Prescott, Arizona. She says she doesn't remember what Bro. Hopkins, the visiting preacher, preached about that night, but she responded to his call to pray.
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"I remember thinking, I want to know what this is all about," says Jacqueline.
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Jacqueline says when she got the Holy Ghost she honestly felt confused. She says it was like love, joy and peace collided head on with hate, brokenness and strife. Instead of clinging to what she had received, she began to shy away from it.
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Off and on for the next two years, she would come to church with her Grandma but never made a commitment to God. Jacqueline's best friend says she remembers begging Jacqueline at a picnic to be at church the next service.
“Promise me you’ll be at church on Sunday?” Her best friend asked as she hugged Jacqueline goodbye. She says Jacqueline would would give a quick, yes and try to get out of committing to it.
“No!” she would say to Jacqueline, holding out her hand, “pinky promise me you will be here on Sunday!”
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Meanwhile, Jacqueline was miserable. What she had of a family literally began to fall apart. Jacqueline and her siblings got taken away from their mom and became wards of the state of Arizona. Her mom would move around and was always in and out of jail. At first Jacqueline lived in a group home for foster kids, then she lived with one of her step-father's for a short time, eventually she ended up with her Grandma Cleveland.
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Once she lived with her Grandma she started coming to church regularly. However, she still had not completely given her life to God. There were still some things in her life that she wasn't ready to give up. At the end of the school year she had tried out for the Freshman cheerleading squad, much to her disapointment, she didn't make it the team.
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During the summer she got involved with church activities. She went to Old Time Campmeeting, another church camp, but with a lot more Apostolic/Pentecostal churches involved. While she was at camp it appeared to everyone that she was really, truly living for God. However, in her heart she knew she was only acting so she could fit in with the people she had become friends with.
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One night at the camp, Bro. Randy Keys preached a message called “Are you a Contender or a Pretender?” As she stood at the alter that night she knew she was only a pretender. Even though she didn't change anything at the camp, the message got to her. For the next two weeks after camp she thought about it.
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She says she felt like her life was in shambles and that living for God was her only hope. At the time her pastor was on vacation. So unknown to anyone, she wrote a letter to her pastor telling him that she had decided to live for God and that she wanted to be baptized.
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After she wrote the letter and sent it, Jacqueline got a phone call from her school cheerleading squad. They said that one of the girls had been disqualified and that she was the next girl on the list to take her place. Jacqueline says she remembers feeling so excited. Then disappointed as she remembered, she was living for God now, she didn’t dress that way anymore. Yet, no one knew she had made this decision.
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Jacqueline and her grandma were going over to the pastor's house while they were away to check on the dog and get their mail. She says she remembers getting the Abbott's mail and seeing her letter on top. The letter was right there in her grasp. She could take it out and no one would ever know about her decision. Then she could join the cheerleading squad, just like she had always dreamed. For moment she was torn, then she made up her mind, she took the letter and stuck in the middle of the pile.
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“I remember feeling so desperate, she says. “I thought if living for God doesn’t work then nothing is worth living for. I remember feeling like I was freefalling into God's arms,” says Jacqueline, "and being very, very, surprised that He was there to hold me."
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When Bro. Abbott got her letter he was pleasantly surprised with her decision. That Sunday she was baptized in Jesus name and from that day forward Jacqueline has been committed.
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Jacqueline says one of the hardest things for her to learn was forgiveness.
“Forgiveness is something you have to do over and over again," says Jacqueline, "you think you have forgiven. Then it creeps back up on you, and you have to do it all over again.”
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Previously, she hated her mom for the life she put her through, but she also understands the way her mom felt. Growing up, her mom was also foster child, tossed from home to home.
“We were both striving for love,“ she explains of her mom.
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While her mother turned to drugs and men to ease her pain and fill her loneliness, Jacqueline turned in another direction. At age 14, she found solace in the love of God.
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“When I finally gave my life to Jesus, I found hope," says Jacqueline. "I still had a lot of things that I had to work through, but now I had a reason to live.”
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Today, Jacqueline is still standing strong to the decision she made in 1998.
“No one has forced me or fooled me into doing this. It is my own choice,” she says. “This is the life I have chosen to live.”
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Jacqueline excitedly looks forward to the future. She dreams of her family getting in church, writing a book, traveling and of course getting married someday to a Godly man(“Like duh!”).
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Although, her life isn’t perfect, and there are still things she struggles with, she has learned to love life.
“I no longer wake up every morning to a wet pillow, and thanks to God, I no longer want to end my life,” she says.
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Many people may not understand how after such an awful life, Jacqueline can still give thanks.
“Really,” she says, “there are people worst off then I was. Most children don’t ever get taken out of these kinds of situations. I was blessed.”
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Because of her past Jacqueline faithfully helps pick up African refugee kids with her best friend for church. Even during the summer, in 110 degrees, no AC, a 25 minute drive both ways and lot's of body oder, she feels they are worth it.
“That’s the only reason I am here,” she says, “Because someone took the time to pick me up.”
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Jacqueline sums up the way she feels in a song entitled, “My Tribute”.
It’s a Sunday evening at Landmark Pentecostal Church. With eyes closed and arms raised toward heaven, she gentle sways to the music, as her strong soprano voice sing out.
“The voices of a million angels could not express my gratitude. All that I am or ever hope to be, I owe it all to thee. To God be the glory, for the things He has done.Jacquelinesc84.blogspot.com

Faith and a smile

2009-01-12T20:36:00.000-08:00

I have been very busy of late and am still in the process of completing several writing projects.
In the mean time here is a link for a story I wrote several years ago...
http://www.pvc.maricopa.edu/puma/apr06/ginty.html

Tears

2008-11-03T21:41:00.000-08:00

What are tears? This was the question that plagued my mind as I began packing her bags. I felt my eyes beginning to fill up. What are tears? I go to her closet and began taking her clothes off the hangers and piling them on the bed. Her polka dot skirt, her zebra print shirt, her cute jean skirt with the embroidered flowers and fringed hem. I hate crying. I try to stop myself, but I can’t. The first tear wells up slowly, quickly slipping down my cheek. Than another and another and another. I touched my eyelashes and they are wet. What are tears? According to Webster’s a tear is simply a drop of salty liquid, which flows from the eye.

However At the College of Apostolic Ministries, my teacher Brother Kelly, emphasized to our class many times how important it is to weep before God. I can hear him so vividly talking to our class, telling us we need to pray for a weeping spirit when we pray. I don’t understand, what could be so important about our tears? Why would God want them? What are tears? I do not know, but I do know that the answer to my question is somehow wrapped around understanding the nature of love.
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The cause of my tears is because the little girl I loved was leaving. Hadassah, who was 11-years-old, had lived with my sister and I for two and a half months, but now her mother had arrived from Liberia and she would be living with her. I try to be strong as I continued packing her bags, but with each item I packed, I felt like I was packing a piece of my heart.
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How Hadassah came to live with me began about five minutes before church one Sunday morning. As I was walking out of the ladies prayer room and into our sanctuary my phone rang. It was Hadassah, one of the African refugee kids we pick up for church. Most of the African kids that came to church were from pretty rough homes. I quickly answered the phone.
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“Hadassah? All I heard was uncontrollable crying. “What’s wrong?" I asked.
“My grandma doesn’t want me,” she sobbed. Hadassah had come to the United States with her grandma when she was seven and I had been bringing her to church for about a year at this time.
*
“What do you mean she doesn’t want you? What happened?” I asked.
“I was bad,” she said, as if that was something new, “ I mean really, really bad,” she continued, clarifying her self. “I stole stuff and now my grandma doesn’t want me. I am so scared,” she sobbed. “I wanna live with you Mary. Please, please, please let me come live with you!”
*
I don’t remember the rest of our conversation, but after church I went over and talked to her grandma, after much discussion, it was agreed that it would be best for Hadassah to come live with my sister and I until her mother arrived from Liberia. I never thought twice about taking Hadassah in. It didn’t matter to me that I was a 24-year-old, single, white lady and she was an 11-year-old black girl with a major attitude. If God wanted me to do this, I would.
*
As soon as Hadassah came to live with us I began working with her on the things she needed to change. Sometimes we would sit with her in my lap, rocking on the rocking chair in our living room.
“I don’t know why I steal things,” she told me. “I want to be good, but I keep being bad,” she sighed.
“You can change,” I would tell her, “but you have to ask God to help you.”
*
She began to open her heart to me, telling me about the kind of life she had been exposed and hardships she had endured. Hadassah’s own mother was only a year older than I. She said it was typical for an African woman to have kids by 15, often even younger. She said that was scared she would end up like all the African woman she knew, unmarried with many children.
I told her that it didn’t matter what kind of a life she came from, if she yielded her heart to God, He would use her to do great things. Although it may simple, it was working. People were constantly coming to me, telling me what a difference they saw in Hadassah. She felt like God had set her free from her habits of lying, stealing and cursing. It was like a burden had been lifted from her and there was a special sweetness about her now.
*
With Hadassah around life was always fun and interesting. I’ll never forget when we took her on a family vacation to San Diego. Hadassah and I were out wave jumping in the ocean when all of a sudden a big gulp of water went into her mouth.
“Who put the salt in here?” She said spitting it out, disgusted.
“God did,” I said laughing.
“Oh, well if God did it then I guess its okay,” she said.
*
Every night we read the bible together, and prayed, always remembering to ask God to bring her mother here quickly. Hadassah had her own room but she always preferred sleeping on the floor beside my bed.
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One night I was drifting off to sleep when Hadassah woke me…
“Mary,’ she whispered. I tried to pretend I was sleeping. “Mary,” she whispered again, louder this time.
“What?” I said groaning in annoyance.
“I wanna sing like a black girl,” she said. I sighed.
“So what do you want me to do? Your black, just start singing!”
“Teach me!” She said.
“How in the world do you expect me to do that?” I said sitting up in bed now.
“Please Mary!”
“Dude Hadassah,” I said laughing. “I wish I could sing good for a white girl and you want me to teach you to sing like a black girl?”
“Oh come on Mary,” she said.
“Okay, okay,” I said giving in, “Repeat after me, Oh happy day,” I said belting out my best black imitation. This resulted in the two of us laughing hysterically.
“You don’t sound like no black girl,” she said laughing.
“See,” I said, “I told you I couldn’t teach you!”
*
Our lives continued on together, in a comfortable, fun way. But sooner than we had anticipated her mother arrived from Africa. We had prayed for this to happen every night before bed. Now it seemed like God had answered our prayers to quickly.
*
I remember the two of us sitting on the floor in my classroom at church, sobbing. I pulled her onto my lap.
“I don’t wanna go back Mary!”
“No matter what happens Hadassah, I love you,” I said. “and you’ll always be my baby.”
“How can I be your baby? You did not born me,” she said falling back into her broken English.
“Hadassah,” I said, “I may not have physically given birth to you, but I borned you in my heart!”
“I don’t wanna go back,” she said sobbing again.
“I know,” I said softly. I know, I know, I know. As we sat there crying, our tears fell onto each other, binding our hearts forever.
After Hadassah went back, I watched sadly as she slowly began to slip back into her old ways. She is 12 now and beginning to grow into a young lady. She is absolutely beautiful, but the childlike sweetness is gone, replaced by and exterior of false happiness. My heart tightens as I see her in her tight shirts and short-shorts.
*
It’s a Sunday evening and I am with my friend Jacqui, seeing if any of the kids want to come to church. I see Hadassah out playing basketball
“Hey Hadassah!” I say, “Give me a hug!” She comes running over and I pull her into an embrace. She smiles as she runs her fingers through my waist-length hair and tells me I look pretty with my hair down.
“I am praying for you,” I say.
“Thank you,” she says softly. I touch her cheeks and feel the smoothness of them; they are still just as soft as I remember.
“You know that you are still my baby, right Hadassah?”
“Yes, I know.” she says. We look at each other for a minute, remembering. Then the moment is broken. She reaches into my zebra print purse and grabs my last two sticks of sweet watermelon gum, “Can I have these?” She asks.
“Yeah, sure,” I say smiling. We say goodbye, then instead of going to church, she zooms off, in her super-mini, mini skirt and continues playing basketball.
*
The next day is Monday. Another morning has come and as I arise from my slumber,I know what I must do. I wipe my sleepy eyes and drag my body to the living room. I feel like going back to sleep, but there is something that compels me to go on. I plop down on the brown rug and I begin to pray. And as I pray I begin thinking about Hadassah.
*
“Oh God,” I cry out. “Get a hold of my little girl.” I begin to feel that familiar trembling. “Watch over her Jesus. Send your angels to stand guard over her.” I feel tears beginning to fill up in my eyes. “Don’t let her forget God,” A tear slips out of my eye. “When she listens to that worldly music, remind her of singing ‘I got the Holy Ghost’. When she puts on immodest clothes, remind her of the day she gave all that up. When she feels the heaviness of sin, reassure her that there is forgiveness at an alter of repentance.”
*
My nose is running as the tears continue to fall. I touch my eyelashes and they are wet. I taste the tears, they are salty. But its okay, I don’t mind the tears now, because I know that God put them there, just like He put the salt in the ocean. And although so much has changed with Hadassah, there is one thing that remains the same; I still love her.
*
What are tears? Now I am beginning to understand. I am starting to see why Brother Kelly kept emphasizing the importance of them in prayer and I know why God wants them. What are tears? Tears are so much more than just a salty liquid that flows from the eyes. Tears are what happen when you love someone so much it begins to leak out.

*Hadassah’s name was changed to protect the privacy of that individual.

"Dance in the Rain" (1999)

2008-10-11T17:49:00.000-07:00

Go dancing in the rain

Blow bubbles in the air

Catch snow flakes on your tongue

Brag about someone you love

Enjoy the simple things in life

Look at a sunset

Count the stars in the sky

Take the time to day dream

Let someone hold your hand

Pretend the clouds are animals

Listen as the birds sing

Always look up to someone

Count the stars in the sky

Remember to have fun

Lick the brownie bowl

Get frosting on your nose

Add sprinkles to your ice cream

Remember to have fun

Say bedtime prayers

Laugh till you can't breath

Build a sand castle

Ask lots and lots of questions

Keep your child like wonder

Get frosting on your nose

Skip, jump, gallup, hop

Swing really, really high

Think about your creator

Stand in awe of the ocean

Laugh till you can't breath

Roll down grassy hills

Splash through all the puddles

Desire to do great things

Swing really, really high

Enjoy the blessings this life brings

Holding His Hand (July 2008)

2008-10-01T23:52:00.000-07:00

I sighed happily as I snuggled beneath my covers. The spring 2006 semester of college was over and for all I cared I would never be going back. After all, who needs school when you’re in love and getting married? Even though my boyfriend had not actually proposed to me, we had spent many hours on the phone talking about our wedding, and planning our future. I knew before the summer was over I would be engaged. I couldn’t help but smile; all my dreams of love and romance were finally coming true. Before I drifted off into dreamland I hugged my pillow and whispered a prayer of thanks,

“God you are so good!”

Several weeks later, I again lay in my bed beneath my covers. However, this time I was not smiling and whispering prayers of thanks. My head was buried in my pillow and my body shook as I sobbed the tears of a broken heart. I couldn’t understand how one day a person could be holding your hand, whispering sweet “I love you’s” then change their mind. My heart was crushed.

It had been easy to give God thanks a few weeks ago when everything was going good, but what about now? I had always said I loved God, but did I know how to trust Him? I had always lived my life for Him, but now I would learn to hold His hand even when I couldn’t see the path he was leading me through.

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“I just don’t get it God! What are you doing? What in the world is going on?”
“ I have a plan for you Mary.”
“But God it hurts so much”
“Trust me.”

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As a little girl, I always knew what I wanted to be when I grew up. I was going to be the best mommy in the whole world, just like my mom. I would marry a Godly man and together we would love our kids, read them stories, and bring them to church. I secretly dreamed of making my family blueberry pancakes for breakfast. Now it seemed like that would never happen.

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What I didn’t know at the time was that what seemed like the end of my dreams was the beginning of something new. God was about to unfold a beautiful plan for my life.

“Will you trust me Mary?”
“But God all I have ever wanted is to get married and be a mom!”
“Just trust me.”
“I promise to raise my children right…”
“Just trust me.”
“I’ll bring them to church…”
“Just trust me…”
“I’ll teach them your ways…”
“Just trust me…”
“God, I’m so desperate I even promise to be an obedient and submissive wife.”

“MARY! Will you please just trust me?”

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Finally the message sank in and I began to trust Him. Still there were times I wondered if I would ever get married and be a mom. God knew all the questions and ponderings of my heart, He didn’t say yes and He didn’t say no, instead He took my hand and led me in another direction.
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When the fall semester of school started I enrolled myself in as many classes as possible. I had planned on not returning to school this semester or taking on another semester of editorship for the college newspaper, but my breakup changed all that. I had to stay busy to keep my mind off the pain. Still, I found myself in the bathroom stall, in between classes, silently sobbing. Every night I cried myself to sleep. It was in these desperate moments of brokenness that a desire inside me began emerge.

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Despite my broken heart, I wanted to love. I remembered getting a fortune cookie that said, ‘Your ability to love will help a child in need.’ I knew in my heart that God wanted me to share my love. I began looking online for volunteer opportunities. The one thing that caught my eye was volunteering with sick kids at Phoenix Children’s Hospital. However, the process of being approved as a volunteer was quite lengthy. In the meantime, I continued to stay busy at school. One day my journalism instructor gave me an assignment to write an article on an English Literacy class that was being taught to African Refugee women.

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The class was being taught in the office of the Paradise Shadows apartment complex where a lot of African refugees live. Paradise Shadows is located in the Palomino Square area, a rather rough part of Phoenix. When I got there I saw kids running around, playing everywhere. They stared at me curiously as I walked to the office to begin observing the literacy class for my article. I tried to listen and take notes, but the whole time my mind was on the kids. About half way through I headed outside for a break and began talking to some little girls.

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They were so eager for my attention, showing off their braids and asking me to take their picture while they did a little cheerleading routine. I was having so much fun, that for just a few moments I forgot about everything else going on in my life. Soon it was time to leave and when their little brown arms wrapped around me in hugs, something began to pull on the strings of my heart. I knew immediately that these were the children God wanted me to love.

That was on a Tuesday evening of October 2006. That Saturday, I got my youth group together and we headed over to Paradise Shadows for outreach. We blitzed the place with church fliers and told all the kids to meet us on the playground. On the playground we sang songs, took prayer request and played with them. These kids play hard and wild. The boys were jumping out of trees and landing in the splits. By the end of the outreach we were hot, sweaty and tired. But, my youth group had fallen in love the kids as well.

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The next day was Sunday and some of the youth and my family drove over and started picking people up for church. We have been bringing people to church ever since and I don’t think our church has quite been the same. Our children’s ministry expanded. I began assisting my friend in her Sunday school class and soon became a teacher as well for the little girls class.

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Since that time I have had the opportunity to bring many of the kids to youth conferences and camps. One girl even came to live with me for several months until her mother came from Liberia. They have taught me about their culture, language, and even had me taste some African food. I have taught them about matching clothes, dressing modestly, hygiene, manners and much more. Together the older girls and I figured out how to curl their hair and I taught them my all time favorite girls game of M.A.S.H. Most importantly we all taught the kids about Jesus.

I can now say that I honestly feel no sadness about my break-up. God used my broken heart to begin reaching out to the children and He used the children to begin healing my broken heart. Because of my brokenness, I was forced to dig deeper, move beyond myself and grab a hold of something bigger. There is nothing more amazing to me than seeing their arms stretched towards heaven, tears running down their cheeks as they surrender their lives to God.

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Now when I lay down at night I can smile and honestly say, God you are so good! The reason I say that is not because I have a new boyfriend and I think I’ll be getting married soon. The truth is that I am still very much single. It’s also not because God took away my desire to get married and be a mom. I still dream of holding my own baby and making my family blueberry pancakes.

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The reason I say God is good, is simply because He is. I see now that His hand is on my life. I look back to when I was a little girl and see that even then He was working on me, preparing me, for what I am doing right now. I don’t know what all God has in store for my life, but I do know that as long as I keep holding His hand, He will keep on leading.

Okaaaay, let me explain...

2008-10-01T00:30:00.000-07:00

December of 2006 was the last time I had written anything. I had gotten involved in a lot of things at my church and writing was kinda pushed onto the back burner. Well, this past May, 2008, my pastor's wife came to me and said that she had heard about a writing contest she thought I should enter. The story was supposed to be a story of faith in God, in your own life or in someone else's.

When I got home that night I started thinking about what I should write. I have written many stories of faith that God has done for other people, but I wanted this story to be about what God has done for me. I have never had a serious illness or some kind of big, remarkable miracle, that has happened to me directly. I have basically grown up in church since I was 2. I got the Holy Ghost when I was six and it has ALWAYS been my desire to serve God.

As I was thinking, I began to realize that in life I have learned that sometimes the BIGGEST act of faith is simply trusting in God. I didn't get my story done in time for the contest, however, the above story, Learning to Hold His Hand, is the result.

After writing this story in July, I felt like God was pushing me to get back to writing. Since that time, God has continuously been giving me story ideas. I have already completed another story and have some more in the works. My sister told me recently that she believes God wants to use me with my writing. She told me that she doesn't believe God would give me the ability to write for no reason. As I write I pray to God, asking Him that above talent or ability, that He would bless my writing with annointing.

So as I picked up my old pen to begin, I thought, ok God, it's great to be writing again, but who will read all this stuff?

That my friend is you! ;-)