In The Name Of Love

The best part of who I am is my children.

That is the honest truth. I can say that and mean it with all that I am.

My children are far from perfect. Frequently, I am amazed at the people that they are. They are smart, funny, thoughtful, they have goals and plans.

They pray, they read the word of God, they desire to do a work for Him.

Being a mother has been the easiest and the hardest thing I have ever done.

It has been easy because there is so much love in me for them.

I remember vividly how it felt to hold each tiny life in my arms. I remember the sweet smell of their baby breath on my face. I remember the tinkling laughter that filled my heart with such joy.

I can tell you, unequivocally that love has only grown. I look at them and think "Wow, really Jesus? You really love ME just this much?"

Even now, when they are big, *grown* adults, though, there are times when being a mother is the hardest thing I have ever done.

I made a promise to them a long, long time ago. I made a promise to do what was right even when it hurt.

I made a promise not to take the easy path, not to just let things go that I knew were not right.

I made a promise to tell them how I felt and WHY I felt that way concerning things that I felt were dangerous.


And I have tried so very hard to live up to those promises. Because, you see, when you love, really, really love, it is not always easy.

I can remember when they were little I would tell them, "If you do *this* I will have to do *this*." And then when they did I would tell them, "I don't want to do *this* but I have to, because I told you that I would."

I remember when I was a teenager laying in bed one night, crying because my parents were so unfair. I told my mother, "I just want to be like everyone else."

I am sure my children have felt the same way. But, like my own parents I did not change my mind.

I told my daughter today that carrying the load of responsibility you carry as a parent becomes so heavy at times.

But you cannot put it down.

One of my favorite sayings that my children have heard more times than they probably want to admit is "It is my job as a parent to make sure that when you grow up you don't have regrets because I was not doing my job as a parent."

Sure, I could have let them do whatever they wanted. I could have said of their mistakes "You did this to yourself," but that would not have been entirely true. Some of the blame for their youthful follies would rest on me.

So, in the name of my love for them I have said "No" when it hurt me to say no.

I have denied them things that other parents allowed their children.

I have made them do things they did not want to do and not allowed them to do things they so desperately wanted to do.

In the name of love I have given them the best I know how to give. I have been the best I know how to be. And, as always, I pray I have been enough, done enough, given enough to the precious lives I was entrusted with all those years ago.

Thank You, for loving me this much, Lord. I want nothing more than to be worthy of You.

Of All the Things I'm Thankful For...

Of all the things I'm thankful for
You always top my list.
Because You know me more
Than anyone ever will.
And yet, through love as Yours
It seems love can exist
As I look out on the world
With eyes you have adjusted.

Of all the things I am thankful for
I am thankful for Your grace
That sweeps inside my human heart
And cleans away the humanity.
You take my frailties
You take my strengths
You take everything I give You
And give me You in return.

Of all the things I am thankful for
I am thankful for this day.
I am thankful for the sounds
And the comfort of this place.
Until the day I meet You there
You have given me a haven here.
It's Your love and comfort that come
To make this place my home.

Of all the things I am thankful for
It's is the memories, still sweet
That wrap themselves around
The brokenness in me.
I know it's You with each reminder
That comes to me just in time.
Bringing back the things I've lost
Yet reminding me of what's mine.

Of all the things I'm thankful for
It is present in their faces
And I watch them look to You
For the future I have prayed for
Knowing You love them, too
Of all the things I am thankful for
This thing leaves me breathless.
Knowing I can NEVER thank You enough
For all You are to me.

That 3am Phone Call

Saturday night I went with my daughter to Tifton to have supper with her best friend since forever. I was pretty tired, but it was a nice time. I always love to see them and pretend I am *Marmie* to Emily, her beautiful little girl.

We got us a nice Venti coffee from Starbucks and headed back home. It was a peaceful drive and we chatted as we always do.

It was late when we made it back in and I finally managed to doze off sometime after 1:00am.

I am an extremely light sleeper. I can't help it. Believe me, I would LOVE to be one of those that falls into bed and can sleep through a hurricane. Not me.

We only have one phone in the house and it is downstairs in the kitchen. No one ever calls it except telemarketers, but we keep it on anyway.

Around 3:00am something woke me up.

I realized it was the phone ringing.

I shot up in stark terror and raced downstairs yelling, "Who is CALLING?"

By the time I made it around the corner the phone was quiet, but the caller ID was still up listing the name of our local hospital.

My husband had made it downstairs by now (he sleeps a little heavier than me) and found me in our laundry room yanking on clothes.

"What are you doing?"

"I am going to the hospital to find out why they were calling me!"

"It was probably a wrong number."

"It was NOT a wrong number. Ethan is not home!"

I cannot count the number of phone calls I have received that have thrown me into a panic. I guess that doesn't sound normal, but you have to understand that my parents had tremendous health issues. I have answered the phone so many times to the anxious voice of my mother.

And, then there was the time that we received the call about Ethan's accident.

No one ever calls you at 3:00am with good news.

I had a knee-jerk reaction based on all of the other phone calls I had received over the years.

While I was searching for clothes my husband grabbed his cell phone and called my son who promptly answered.

He was staying with a friend whose parents were out of town. He had sent me a text to let me know.

"Then, it's my Grandmother."

About that time my cellphone rang.

It was the hospital.

My Grandmother had a heart attack. She was being placed in ICU.

As I was yanking on clothes, not knowing who was hurt or sick, and I was doing the only thing I felt capable of doing at that moment.

"Jesus. Jesus. Jesus."

Over and over I called.

"Please, Lord. Jesus."

He was not startled awake by my dilemma.

He was just waiting on my call.

Many Times....

Gray and hazy,
Clear and crisp,
Sometimes they surround me,
At other times they are out of my reach.
But, Oh the many times I want to.

It may be a word,
Or an expression,
Then a longing so deep,
My very core is pressed tightly.
And, still the many times I long to.

Yet the seasons still change,
The days still end,
And begin again.
Nothing has stopped moving,
Even when so many times I need to.

And I rise,
And I breath,
And I pass through each day.
Each one taking up
Where the last left off.

I think,
I dream,
I work and plan.

And then I find myself
Holding my mouth as you did.
I don't look in the mirror
And find your face.
But Oh, the many times I want to.

You find when you suffer great loss that the world is full of sympathy. After a while you find no one wants to hear anymore. No one wants to see your hurt. No one wants to know it is still there.

So, you learn to cope with it. And you put one foot in front of the other and continue on. I can't stop and give in to the grief, no matter how many times I have wanted to.

Missing you today. And understanding you in ways I never did before. You were amazing. And I am glad you were mine.

In With The Old, Out With The New

I am an Apostolic Pentecostal. I make no apologies for that fact.

I believe the Bible is the whole Word of God and I believe it is something that I can build my life on, the Rock in my Foundation. I believe it is what keeps me from tumbling down because it is firm, solid.

And I believe if it is in the Word then it should be in my life. I am not a proponent of "Cafeteria Style" Christianity. I don't believe we can go through the Word and just "pick and choose" what we want to believe.

I can qualify that by saying I know it to be a fact that there is a blood line that runs throughout the Bible, from beginning to end. There are no contradictions in the Bible, none.

But, that is for another discussion.

As an Apostolic Pentecostal, I believe in the "Old Ways." I believe in holiness, I believe in living a separated life, I believe in listening to my Pastor who is my "Watchman on the Wall."

I don't expect anyone who has not tasted this life to see that it is good.

It has been so very good for me.

To my sadness, I have watched as those that I used to look up to in this walk of faith have taken those things that were once important and laid them aside for a "new" way of thinking. Things that the pioneers of our faith set up as boundaries of protection for us have been torn down and cast away.

There is a pattern I have seen in those that have taken these "bold new steps."

That pattern is destruction.

Destruction of children that had been raised to believe that something was important and are now given the message that never really mattered.

Destruction of families as these boundaries that protected our homes are torn down allowing those very things those boundaries protected us from to come in.

Destruction of our churches as I hear over and over that doors are shut, congregations are compromised and communities are left without someone to herald the Truth to the lost.

You know, satan hasn't changed his tactics. They are still the same. "Ye shall not surely die," (Genesis 3:4) he says to us as we begin to partake of the very things we have been warned against.

But, we are dying. We are dying......

I have not run across one instance, not ONE instance, where the new ways have been a benefit.

And, if you think our children are confused, our spouses are confused, our congregations are confused by this mix-message we have been delivering.....

What about that lost and dying world?

I have said it before, and I will, with all probability say it again....Sin is attractive.

I mean, would we give up the blessings of God if we could see it for what it really is?

Sin doesn't show up fat and nasty, driving an old clunker. No Sir!

Sin shows up dressed in its finest, cruising in the ride of your dreams.

But the promises of sin never deliver what you expected. Sin only takes, it doesn't give. Before you realize what has even happened that one little thing that you decided was no longer important has turned into one more little thing.

And that one more little thing has become another, and another, and another.....

Until you have developed amnesia, not even remembering who you were or what you stood for.

Today I saw a family that once was part of the ministry. They taught me much about this journey of faith that I am now on.

I hardly even recognized them. They were broken apart. And that broke my heart.

I still believe that sin will take you farther than you ever wanted to go. And, it will take you away from God.

I know that some of my family and friends do not understand why I CHOOSE to live the way that I do, why I am so passionately in love with living for God with my whole life.

This is why. I have seen the consequences of letting go of the old paths, of turning aside the old ways.

I don't need the new ways to bring me joy, I have joy. I don't need to let go to be free, I AM free. Because you see living for Him is freedom. Living outside the dictates of the world is where the joy is.

Jesus, I am so thankful today that You put a Pastor in my life that still preaches that there nothing wrong with living right. I am thankful for men and women who still live this way, who are still passionate. I am thankful for all the heartaches that my family has been spared because of a love for You and Your Word. Lord, I pray for those who have let go. Let them fall in love with the "Old Paths" again.

An Underachieving Overachiever

I am the youngest child in my family. My brother, who is oldest, is a little over 6 years older than me and my sister is a little over 4 1/2 years older.

Until the day my parents died they still referred to me as "the baby."

Now, I am not complaining, by any means. I enjoyed being the baby of the family.

Up until my parents really started having health problems I was not allowed to drive their cars. It only happened then because I don't think they had any choice. Honestly, it was always like I just learned to drive.

And before it is mentioned; my early driving record wasn't the greatest, OK? I know this. Yes, I was in 3 accidents in less than a month. But I can assure you NONE of them were my fault.

Other than that, my record was good.

Didn't matter.

I think everyone was surprised when I went to college....and PASSED!

Not that they thought I was stupid, but it is almost like I was perpetually 14 years old.

I have found that I want to push myself. There are so many things I want to do, so many things I want to be involved in.

And I sometimes tend to load my plate till it overflows......

Then the goal becomes learning to carry the plate without it overflowing.

I was thinking about that today as I was riding along trying to shove as many errands as I could into my break. I was thinking that it is probably surprising to some that I can function at the speed I do. I know there are **some** who can't imagine I can run my own bathwater without scalding my skin off....(that is an inside joke)

Here I am, in school again. When I started I thought to myself, "I am going to make all A's!"

Eh, I have all B's.....that will do.

Once I got started I realized that my best bet would be to survive this without ending up on the brink of exhaustion....or on the brink, period.

In my head I can imagine myself doing all these great and amazing things. And then I end up doing ordinary and average things.

I have found this to be good.

This is the wonderful thing about being an overachiever....my *average* is set a little higher than the (cough) average average! (he he he)

So, even though I underachieve....I somehow break even.

Ah, well....this middle-aged baby is tired.....

Can someone please come pull down the covers and tuck me in??

Meant for Good

Last Thursday I received a phone call from my Regional Director. It seems that someone reported to our Corporate Compliance Hotline that I carried a loaded pistol in my purse and that I not only carried in to our member's homes but I also gave it to the Case Managers to carry with them into homes.

First of all, let me say I do own a gun. I have been raised with a healthy appreciation and respect for guns. I have a permit to carry a gun.

Most of the time my gun resided in my glove box of my car. But, a week or so before everyone was out of town and when faced with a night alone I decided to carry my gun inside with me for the night....and I forgot to take it out of my purse and put it back in my car.

So, when I received the call I could not lie. Yes, I had a gun in my purse.

I have nick-named my gun "Little Bertha."

Many times when my Case Managers were heading out for a bad area we would joke about "Little Bertha."

That's all it ever was, a joke.

Our members have never been in danger and I would never be foolish enough to give something that potentially dangerous that is registered in my name, no less, to someone else to use.

I mean, really?

But, obviously we joked in front of the wrong person.

I truly had no idea it would be a problem to have my pistol in my car. But, it was a problem. At the direction of my supervisor I left work and immediately brought my gun to the house where it now resides permanently.

And, that is really fine with me. I am all about behaving ethically so if this is a rule, I will gladly follow.

When I received the call I was more upset that something like this may affect my record at work than the fact that "Little Bertha" could no longer ride along life's highways with me.

From the time I hung up the phone I could hear God whispering to me....."But as for you, ye thought evil against me; but God meant it unto good, to bring to pass, as it is this day, to save much people alive." (Genesis 50:20)

"OK, Lord," I thought, "I don't know what it is, but I know You are in control."

I left that afternoon on a little adventure with my daughter and one of the girls from our church. We were going to spend a couple of nights at an old hotel in a nearby town. This hotel is reported to be "haunted" and we were actually staying on a "haunted hall."

Across from our room was an old service elevator where almost 100 years ago a maid and her child were tossed to the bottom of the shaft to their deaths. The little girl supposedly still "plays" in the hallway.

About 2am that Friday morning we were awakened to a light knocking on our door. We all three sat straight up.

"What was that?" Denise asked.

"Sounds like someone knocking on the door," I said.

She got up and looked out the peephole.

Nothing....No one.....

She used the restroom and as she was coming out she began to joke about how it must be the "ghost children" playing in the hallway.

We all laughed.

About that time there was a huge THUMP on the door. Denise jumped into my bed leaving poor Alena alone in the other bed. We were all startled.

Again there was a huge bang on the door and I noted the top of the door bent in with the force of the blow. I jumped out of bed yelling "HEY!" while the girls began screaming.

We all began to call on Jesus as I looked out the peephole to find an enraged man standing on the other side of the door.

As I watched he backed up, put his shoulder down and rammed the door again. The door threatened to buckle under the blow. I placed my hands on the door and leaned my weight into it as Alena joined me.

Denise frantically called the front desk and in a shaking voice asked for help.

The man continued to ram.

Suddenly we heard another voice in the hallway speaking sternly to the man. I watched out the peephole as the desk clerk approached our door and knocked.

I opened the door while leaving the chain on. She apologized stating the man had too much to drink and was confused about his room. He was gone to his room now, per the clerk.

OK, we said.

Of course, we were all wide awake at this point.

But, I still felt uneasy.

I got up and looked out the peephole again, and there he stood, leaning against the opposite wall, peering down the hallway.

Then he came and stood in front of our door again. And he backed up, put his shoulder down and rammed. I yelled out, "You need to get out of here!"

Didn't faze him.

He backed up and headed for the door again. This time when he made impact I yelled through the door again.

"Sir! This is not your room! And if you continue to scare my girls I'm going to bust your face in!"

That seemed to get his attention because he immediately wandered off.

Of course, the girls thought that was hilarious after the threat was gone.

Denise reflected later that she wondered if it had not been the Lord who sent an angel by to knock on the door that first time to wake us up because there was no one there when she looked out, and as enraged as that man was he would have never just knocked.

We also wondered how this man who had just come from the bar could think his room was suddenly filled with women screaming for Jesus over and over.

And even more so.....how did no one else hear us? Why did no one else step out to see what was going on?

But, most importantly I heard His voice....

"But as for you, ye thought evil against me; but God meant it unto good, to bring to pass, as it is this day, to save much people alive."

What if I had not received that phone call? What if I had still been carrying my pistol in my purse when this enraged man with the strength of a bull came and began ramming my door at 2am? What if I had been able to count on the "protection" of my firearm as my girls safety was being threatened?

Would I have opened the door to show him I was armed? What if he had managed to break the door down and find me there with a pistol in my hand? Would he have been able to overpower me and take the gun from me and use it on us?

I will never know because although I believe someone may have meant to hurt me (when they could have simply approached me directly and pointed out my wrong-unless of course, they thought me **mad** enough to use Little Bertha on them?) what they meant for evil against me, God meant for my good.

He meant it to protect me from a potentially dangerous situation turning into a potentially deadly situation.

That's the way He loves me.


**As a side note: I am not sharing this to garner your response concerning the right to carry firearms. You are free to believe however you would like to believe. I am not trying to change your point of view, so show me the same respect. Neither am I excusing myself for having my gun on my person when it went against the policies of my organization. I am not. I was wrong and I have corrected it. Nor can it be said that I bear ill feelings against the person who reported it. How could I? This is not to illicit a political response, merely to illustrate His love for me. Period. So, I implore you to take it in the spirit it is written.**