The "Apple of my Eye".

13Wherefore take unto you the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand.

Today is the first day in weeks I have felt almost normal again. The heartbreak and despair has been a nightmare. I walked through the valley and although things are not back to normal, I am starting to live again. My heart still grieves for My Baby boy, but, I have finally found my emotional and spiritual legs again. I am glad that I stopped blogging for a while and no one reads this now. This is just a personal place to unload.

For the last several weeks I would get up and pray and read my Bible. It gave me strength and I would be ok. Then the fear and frustration, grief and loss would kick in and I was floundering in my faith. Some days I prayed over and over to get through. Other days I prayed then too, but I was so filled with grief, I just went through the motions.

I knew in my heart that I serve a God who is able. But, the weakness in me, the part of me that lacks stamina would fall into the negatives and I was reeling in so many tumultuous emotions. I have finally realized that this is a time of testing for me. And, a time of learning for the kids. I know that Baby was probably heartbroken when he was not allowed to see me and that added to my grief. The sense of powerlessness is sometimes the worst nightmare.

But, I know that in the last year, during prayers around and over BoBo, he was touched by the God I serve. I know that somewhere deep in his heart he will carry the love we shared. He will carry all the warm, cozy, happy memories to sustain him. I know I did, when I was taken away from my Grandpa, and rocketed into my culture shock experience as a child. I think that childhood memory has been part of my heartbreak, but, now, it has to be part of what will strengthen me. I carried Grandpa in my heart during all the years of twisted abuse. So, I know he will never completely forget all the love and happiness.

He was and is the "apple of my eye". I will never forget curling up at bedtime and watching his movies. He would pull on my ear and I would cuddle his two feet in my hand. Oh, how he loved a cup of chocolate milk from time to time at bedtime. He was soooooo goood. When it was time to go to sleep he would go right on in to his room to be put to bed. :)

Zechariah 2:8 (King James Version)
8For thus saith the LORD of hosts; After the glory hath he sent me unto the nations which spoiled you: for he that toucheth you toucheth the apple of his eye.


One of my favorite memories came one night when I was cooking dinner. He wanted to help and he was so little. I gave him a little potato, a paper plate and a butter knife. He sat at the table trying to peel that potato and said, "I cookin', Mema!".

He was always so good in stores and at church. I never had a problem with him acting out. Quiet and so well behaved was he. The day of the big blow up his mamma said he was a Brat and that he was kicking and biting and hitting. But, he did not do those things here. She said it was because we were spoiling him. ok...I serve a God who is able. I know he will watch over him, and hold him in his mighty arms.

I have come through the deepest, darkest time of my life. Through a childhood of mind blogging, cultural, social, and emotional confusion I never lost optimism. I never lived in despair or depression. Never, until this time of heartbreak. But, this time of test has taught me one thing. Hold fast to my faith in darkness, and seek his light. My mind was almost destroyed in this situation. I still hope and pray things will change and he will be back soon. Oh, how I love my great grandson.

4(For the weapons of our warfare are not carnal, but mighty through God to the pulling down of strong holds;)
5Casting down imaginations, and every high thing that exalteth itself against the knowledge of God, and bringing into captivity every thought to the obedience of Christ;


My God is Able!~ My God is Able!~ My God is Able!~

Finding...A Man of God. ~2~

When I was in and out of churches it doesn't take much to figure out that I was living in a worldly place. I was struggling to be a proper mother to my two children and still living a wild life in some ways. I was making sure my children knew about God as best I could. I taught them to say prayers, especially at bedtime just like my Mother did for me. My mother used to read me Bible stories so I knew all the basics. I thought I knew enough about God. Oh, how foolish we can be!~

While trying to maintain the home life for the sake of my children, I was drinking and prowling when they were away for the week-end or the night. At one point I was working three jobs just to make ends meet. I did not get child support and I did not qualify for any kind of assistance. I worked day care during the week, did babysitting as needed nights and week-ends, cleaned house for a couple of ladies, and waitressed three nights a week at a local club. And there, I found a way to self-medicate. Alcohol is one the devil's greatest and most subtle tools of trade. It anesthetizes. And heaven knows that considering the emotional state I was in, I need something to dull the emotional pain.

From a childhood of confused roots I was also sexually abused by my Dad. Born to an Indian girl during the early 50's, and abandoned by good ole Dad while she was pregnant, I was a prime candidate for "looney ala halfbreed" from the start. She was a very wild and misguided young girl who abused her firstborn, lost her second child to the father, and gave birth to me in the middle of it all. In all fairness to Dad, she was too wild to be settled with him or anyone else. In just a few years she was forced by courts to turn me over to the custody of Dad. He had married in the meantime to a very good citified christian lady. I am sure she took one look at me and knew I was in need of proper civilization efforts. lol

I was used to using an outhouse, drinking water from a hand drawn well, and eating my veggies while sitting in the dirt of the garden. I spent a lot of time with my Indian grandpa at the time, and one of my earlies favorite memories is sitting there, eating cucumbers while he hoed his garden. I loved being at his house as did all the other children in the family. When our mother married an older man and became pregnant, we lived in our own little shotgun shack some miles away from dear Grandpa. Some of my earliest memories include watching my young drunken mother abuse my sister Jeannie. She wound hit, throw shoes, and we would hide behind the wood burning stove. I remember going to school with Jeannie and walking home from school cold and hungry. This is the mid 1950's please remember.

Grandpa was an Indian preacher so he was gone sometimes for days on end. He traveled to meetings all over the country. He would bring home a treat called sweetmeat and it was so delicious. I remember my older cousins hunting squirrel for food to eat in winter. I remember the smell of wood fire smoke as it haunts my memories of a wonderful Grandpa who simply could not care for all of us children on a long term basis. But I remember him with a loving heart. To this day one of my favorite foods in just a plain old biscuit. :) This dear sweet Man of God never learned to read, never went to church, but he knew to worship his Creator. He did it the Indian way.

When my Dad got custody I had to learn all things related to a White world. I do not mean to say that hatefully. The two worlds were as different as night and day. When Mom first tried to feed me spaghetti I thought she was trying to feed me bloody worms. My first restaurant experience she offered me a burger and french fries. I did not want any of that food. When the fries arrived I was so upset because I wanted some fried potatoes too. Five years old is too young to get specific with questioning in some areas. lol

My Dad's dad, Grandpa S., was very religious, as was my stepmother. While they were a religious family the demands on my simple culture shocked mind were just too much. Over time I did adapt to electric lights, running water, proper english, the food, and overall lifestyle changes, other things took more time. Emotionally I was still a little Indian girl missing her family so much.

The only Man of God in my life was this Grandpa S. and he was a southern transplant who really resented his oldest sons, bad seed, half-breed, born out of wedlock child. Were it not for my stepmother and her Christian grace, my faith would never have rooted in early childhood. I did grow up to be so confused by it all. She got sick around three years later and started spending lots of time in the hospital and my Dad took full advantage of the opportunity to start doing a lifetime of damage.

to be continued...

Finding...A Man of God!~

I've been thinking a lot lately about the Man of God. Not just the Pastor at my church, but, the Biblical Man of God. Men like Moses, Elijah, Elisha, Joshua, Isaiah, Jeremiah, Hosea, Ezra, and so many others. Men who took up their faith and walked in his light regardless of worldly influences.

Over the years I have visited so many churches of various doctrines. It took me almost a lifetime to find a Man of God in this day and age, who is committed to bringing truth, and guidance, that brings the joy and peace the Bible teaches. I have read my Bible over and over through the years. So many times I was tripped up by things that no one had answers for, or explanations that seared as truth in my soul.

Baptism is one example. I was baptized twice in years past. Once as a young teen in a Baptist church. The feeling of well being and the sense of spiritual purpose did in fact enter my soul. But, there was always something in me that seemed to be missing. I was filled with a sense of love for my God, and I understood that Jesus died for me. But, something was missing in me. I thought for years it was because I was just too unworthy.

The second time I was in my late twenties and the church was a very good church with an awesome pastor. This denomination used only the New Testament. I was at peace during the music services and the preaching did in fact make me want to try harder to be a better person, but there was still something missing in me. And, I knew it. I continued to believe that I was just too unworthy, and had lived a life too evil to be fully accepted by God, or to be forgiven. But, the Pastor was a very Godly man, and later I realized that he had tried so hard to reach his congregation with what he had to offer. He did an awesome job of teaching the New Testament. But, I knew that we are to use the teachings of the Old Testament to support the New.

Baptism this the last time was a life changing experience and and I was tingling and actually felt the Holy Ghost and rebirth as I left the water.

I would be in churches and out of churches. One church, sadly to say, I took my kids and visited three times and no one ever spoke to me. I went to the dinner after service the third time thinking I could get to know someone there. No one spoke to me. It was SO weird. I never took my kids and went back. Even my children said they felt it was unfriendly and they were still in elementary school.

Now, I know I was seeking, but, was lost as to what I was trying to find. That confusion, that outer darkness I was stumbling around in, perpetuated the feelings of loss and emptiness.

I am happy to say that I went to work at a Religious college. One of the Father's there befriended me. He was very instrumental in showing me the Love of God. A story in itself. I will tell of him another time. Suffice to say that this was the beginning of healing for me. Father Joe, what a good Man of God. The problem was that He wasn't teaching me the Bible, he was teaching me years of church doctrine developed over time and it was not easily found and applied in the Bible. AT least not for me. I did receive a touch during that time and it made my feelings of spiritual need more intense. I continued to seek.

To be continued...

Spiritual Awakening

For the last five years I have been back in church. For the first two of those years I attended a non-denominational contemporary church because my son and my daughter were taking my grandchildren there. It was a very nice church and the pastoring was very inspiring and as close to Biblical as I thought it could be. I was raised Baptist and while this was not a Baptist church the teachings seemed relevant and very good.

I tried time and again to get my sister to go to church with me. She did attend one of the women's ministry meetings with me. But, that was the extent of her desire to participate. Then three years ago, around the Fourth of July, I came home one Saturday afternoon and found a church flyer on the porch. I could see young people up and down the streets leaving them on doors. It was so hot and I was so impressed with that group of teenagers. They could have been doing any number of things on that hot Saturday afternoon. Yet, they chose to do a faith based outreach. It was touching.

Later in the evening my sister called and was telling me about the kids passing through her neighborhood that day. She was curious about this church and asked me to go with her and see what it was like. I was thrilled and was more than ready if it meant she would get back in church. So, we made our plans and attended Sunday morning service. I would probably have attended almost any church to get my sister off her duff. Things were really bad for her and I knew how much it would help to find a place to fill her heart with his peace. I had found something that was helping me.

I was however, a little apprehensive about this plan. It was a Pentecostal church and I was raised to believe certain things about those pentecostal people. I figured I would go a few times until she was more comfortable and then return to my little church. She attended a Pentecostal church years ago and said it was the only denomination she would really feel at peace with if she attended a church.

Growing up Baptist I was firmly ensconced in the idea that the pentecostal people claimed to have the Holy Ghost and they claimed to speak in tongues. Now that,according to the teachings I'd been bombarded with was against all our beliefs. I was taught that tongues were for the early Christians only. I wondered all my life why Jesus would give it to them and not give it to the rest of his followers.

Never mind the fact that in the course of my adult life I had visited Church of Christ, Methodist, Freewill Baptist, Episcopal, and even took catechism in the Catholic church for a time. I was a seeker. Some will say that kind of person just hops from church to church. But, there always seemed to be something critical missing. I would find a sense of peace and the worship was sometimes beautiful. I got some great Biblical teachings. I knew I had been touched and felt his touch many times, but I could never get past the feelings of unworthiness. I never felt the feeling of forgiveness. The guilt and shame always lay just below the surface. Something was always lacking in me or in the church and I knew it.

Salvation in a Baptist church at the age of 13 was beautiful. But, over the years I knew something was missing in me. I would feel the touch, the move of his spirit and then in no time I was floundering spiritually once more. That was how I lived over the years as I tried one denomination after another.

I was in that church that first Sunday and I knew within just a few minutes they had something special. The praise and worship during the music was filling my heart with longing and need. I was reaching out to him and the people in that church were doing it too, right out loud! I could hear people praying and I too had my hands raised praying silently.

I know that He hears our prayers when we pray silently, but, there was something so powerful in the outright prayers of these people. It carried me home and back again, time after time. I was seeking with all my heart. When the Pastor approached me and talked about the Holy Ghost I was a bit confused because of former teachings. But, I kept listening and learning. I was still reading my Bible daily, but, this time, I was finding that my understanding was growing by leaps and bounds. I started to understand Acts chapter 2.

With the help of Pastor Bowman, Brother Roberts and the women who surrounded me in prayer, I finally prayed, (out loud) and prayed through and got the Holy Ghost. It is the most incredible, amazing, peace filling, happy, extremely joyous feeling I have ever known. I was so filled with the Holy Ghost and started speaking in tongues. My entire body felt warm and at peace, relaxed and joyful. I even had revelations during my second experience. But, that is a story for another time. But, I knew Jesus so intimately in that one instance and I knew he was living in me. I was down in front of the altar. I looked up and around and my Sister was several feet to my left and she had renewed her gift of the Holy Ghost at the exact same time. She was standing there reaching to the heavens and praying in tongues. It was amazing!~

All my life I had tried to be good to people, do good works, pray and seek, all to find that something was still lacking in me. I was a sinner and the shame and guilt was there like a great shadow making me feel unworthy. Now I know without question that he died for me, for you, for all who will seek his face. I have found his grace in full, and it is the thing I cherish above all else. This experience was my greatest blessing in life.

I decided to get baptised. Again. Ihad been baptised in two other churches. BUT!~ But, this time, when Pastor said the words, " In Jesus Name", I felt the washing away of my sins. I came up out of the baptistry with my entire body tingling and I knew as I stood there I was a new creature and that I was washed and made whole. Made whole!~ Whole for the first time in my life. Joy filled my soul again, and I was walking on the moon. God is good and I try and encourage my loved ones to seek his face.

And without faith it is impossible to please him, for he that cometh to God must believe that he is, and that he is a rewarder of them that diligently seek him. Hebrews 11:6

If you are reading this I will say again; I started this blog so that if I pass on, my children and grandchildren will have something to turn to in my absence. It is my greatest desire that they seek his face by going to church and reading the Bible. But, my mother wished the same for me. I went to church after church, fell and stumbled and lost my way so many times. I know how hard it is to find your way in the midst of the darkness and confusion this life creates. The battle rages for every soul and every life.

Most churches don't preach the Holy Ghost experience and talking in tongues is considered taboo in most of todays churches. But, I would rather lay down and die than deny what I have been blessed with. I have been touched and filled by my Jesus and life is worth living. "Because He lives I can face tomorrow." Words from an old song. Words I now live by.