Life in our home was out of control. It was hard to get through one day without something upsetting my father and I thought the police had our address on speed dial. Leaving the house became difficult and I was often called back to referee the latest battle. My mother was no match for my dad; he could out talk her and constantly told her how worthless she was.
For some reason, I went everywhere mother went and I was allowed to have a voice in the decisions that needed to be made, it just wasn’t my own voice. My opinion was sought out but truth of the matter, I was just a child, and reminded of that when, on the rare occasion, they agreed on some point.
I tried to keep my father from hurting my mother and my mother from upsetting my father. I would also try and stop my father from hurting my brothers. One night while doing dishes my father charged my brother in a rage for some “offense”. Out of instinct I threw the dishrag I had been holding and hit him square in the face. It stopped him cold. I was scared to death, but he never said a word to me and my brother managed to get out of his way.
My brother Bill had nice hair and he liked to put hair cream on to hold the style he was wearing. He was told repeated that his head was not to touch the wall behind him at the dinner table. One night, Bill leaned back in his chair and accidentally touched the wall with his head. My father bolted out of his chair and knocked Bill to the floor. A knot formed in my stomach. We were all the told to finish our soup, like nothing had happened. I hated mealtime For years after that, any small argument could make it difficult for me to eat, especially if it occurred at mealtime.
AN ABUSIVE HOME IS A LONELY HOME
It was becoming increasingly difficult for me to be around people. Other people’s lives were “normal”, and mine most certainly wasn’t. I wanted help for our family but at the same time, found that I was ashamed and humiliated, being part of a living nightmare. I never invited anyone over… ever. Other than my friend Christine, who lived next door, our home was off limits. Our relatives stopped coming over because they knew what was going on and felt powerless to help. So that left us all alone without any hope of anything ever changing.
My grandma would come over and cry. Father hated her, but she would come to see her daughter and grandchildren anyway. Our home was filthy. One day grandma taught me how to clean my room. I can still see her standing there in my room. I can hear her voice and remember everything she said. “Pick up everything on the floor. Now put away everything laying on the dresser. Now make your bed.” I was amazed and thankful. My grandma was my lifeline to everything sane at that point, but her visits became fewer and fewer because it was too hard on her to see the condition her daughter was in.
People I met in school had no way of knowing why I rarely spoke or interacted. I was slipping more and more into the world I was creating in my mind. I would lay on my bed and imagine a place far, far from home. It was a happy place where no one fought. We laughed, played and most importantly, this place lacked one thing: My parents. I wanted to disappear into my “happy place”.
I began to have trouble concentrating, and I struggled to stay awake in school. I was tired from staying up at night watching my mother. She would fall asleep with a cigarette in her hand, and I wanted to catch it before she burned down the house. More and more of the things my mother was responsible for, fell on my shoulders. I remember having to wrap everyone’s Christmas presents one year on the end of my mother’s bed. She wasn’t feeling well enough to do it.
“Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever.” – Psalm 23:6
SHELTERED IN THE ARMS OF GOD
Writers: Dottie Rambo, Jimmie Davis
I FEEL THE TOUCH OF HANDS SO KIND AND TENDER
THEY’RE LEADING ME IN PATHS THAT I MUST TROD
I HAVE NO FEAR WHEN JESUS WALKS BESIDE ME
FOR I’M SHELTERED IN THE ARMS OF GOD
SO LET THE STORMS RAGE HIGH, THE DARK CLOUDS RISE
THEY WON’T WORRY ME
FOR I’M SHELTERED SAFE WITHIN THE ARMS OF GOD
HE WALKS WITH ME AND NAUGHT OF EARTH SHALL HARM ME
FOR I’M SHELTERED IN THE ARMS OF GOD
SOON I SHALL HEAR THE CALL FROM HEAVEN’S PORTALS
“COME HOME MY CHILD IT’S THE LAST MILE YOU MUST TROD”
I’LL FALL ASLEEP AND WAKE IN GOD’S NEW HEAVEN
SHELTERED SAFE WITHIN THE ARMS OF GOD
My heart is heavy over the loss of a dear soul, Clayton. His wife Stephanie has been left with a small son, Hunter, and another on the way. Life can be difficult without such a loss, but the answer, the help, the comfort is always the same; His name is Jesus. I hope this will give you hope my friends. Jesus will help you through. God’s Word, God’s NAME is powerful. He is there for you.
Attending school was a nightmare. In grade school there were the battles. My brothers were picked on because they were short and had to wear glasses. Bill and Terry were bullied back in the days when the victim was more likely punished, not the bully. I did try and help defend them, but I had my own battles.
My teeth. An overbite is just ripe for jokes and insults. I found myself further ostracized because of our financial situation at home. One girl came up to me on the playground and said, “we are going to buy you a new dress because you are poor.” I was excited! But the dress never materialized.
For reasons I never understood, I was friendless. I think my most humiliating experience was when we were to pick “friends” to put our desks together with. The kids scrambled around and created their desk formations. There I sat, my desk alone, in the middle of the room. The teacher, with little wisdom and less tact, told me to put my head down. She then asked if anyone would be willing to sit with me. I have no idea what happened after that, but it still hurts to think about.
DOWNWARD WE GO
Life changed dramatically when I was in 4th grade as a result of my father being injured at work. He worked for the city in the traffic department. They were unloading a telephone pole when the hook broke, and my father was knocked off a tall ladder and thrown to the ground. The injuries to his head, face and body were so extensive that he never returned to work again. No one worked in our home as a matter of fact. My father was placed on disability. Years later his disability was not only physical; It was also mental. After a considerable amount of time in the hospital, my father came home. His eyes were bloodshot from the blow to the face and subsequent surgery, but that did not stop him from taking a sledge hammer to a wall in the kitchen. He was going to make a new bedroom. Despite the pain it caused him, my father found it therapeutic to work with his hands. By this time his hands shook so badly he could barely tie his own shoes and his nerves were in the same condition.
My father continued to receive medication for his pain, but his mental condition turned into paranoia. He was later diagnosed with Paranoid Schizophrenia, so he didn’t trust the doctors and rarely took any medication they gave him to treat his condition.
My mother on the other hand, found that she felt pretty good when she took medicine. One doctor explained to my mother that the tension she was living under was the cause of her pain. Taking pain medication and tranquilizers allowed her to sleep day and night, so having to deal with father wasn’t as unbearable. When she ran out of medication she was prescribed, my mother looked for the medicine my father wasn’t taking. For years my father ranted and raved about my mother stealing his medicine. No one believed him. I never believed him; I was afraid to.
John 1:29 Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world! I want to thank the Lord Jesus for taking my place, forgiving my sin and allowing me to become a Child of the King! Behold the Lamb. I hope you enjoy this trio.
If you would like to see the video version of this song:
Life became a procession of children with a total of 6. My parents either did not believe in birth control or did not know how to practice it. The doctor was not happy when my mother came to him pregnant over and over. He told her she was not healthy enough to bare children. But that did not change her eating habits or her smoking and drinking, so my next two brothers were born premature; with impaired vision. Both boys were also colicky. My father hated to hear a baby cry so insisted my mother was not to pick them up when they did. He was a disciplinarian and did not believe in mollycoddling. There was little peace or happiness for my mother during this time. Little did she know that “Peace and Happiness” had moved out permanently from her home.
Note: Those early years were my parent’s happiest years, according to my oldest brother. He has fond memories of my mother in the kitchen preparing meals. He also remembers meeting my father as he would come home from work and taking bites out of the sandwiches my mother prepared for our father’s lunch. Unfortunately, I have very few memories like that to draw upon.
Bill was the first-born son. He was slight of build and favored my mother in complexion. He was the studious child who read and explored the world around him and the stars above. I always thought my father was jealous of him because my mother loved him so much. And for this reason, I felt he was harder on him then his transgression deserved. Father thought any man of worth, worked with his hands, not with his mind, so he criticized Bill’s speed at which he completed a task. I do not remember Bill smiling much as a child. But then, the best way to coexist with my father was to keep your head down and stay out of his way.
Terry was born two years later. “W” was his middle name because no one liked the name Wilbert, including my father. My dad preferred to be called “Bill”. Terry was the spitting image of my father, with his German build and blond curly hair. I remember that he was the baby with the biggest smile in the pictures my mother had professionally taken. I had always thought that secretly he was my father’s favorite. Terry was treated poorly by my mother and abused by my father Terry was hard working and able to work with his hands, but it didn’t matter. Nothing did.
Terry was always in trouble. He ate food from the pantry that wasn’t served to him and my mother called that stealing. I can still remember standing at the kitchen table while my mother mixed a combination of foods my brother had “stolen” and force fed them to him until he vomited. Then she proceeded to feed him from the bowl containing his vomit I was horrified. My heart was broken for my brother Terry.
One day Terry was placed outside in the trash naked. He had wet his pants and also apparently “stole” something so my father held his hands over the flame of the stove, took his clothes off and put him out with the trash for the garbage men to pick up. Terry was often beaten with a belt.
Terry was sent to school one day and came home with a note pinned to his shirt that read: “We noticed the bruising on Terry. If he comes to school bruised like this again, we will contact the authorities.” OH, HOW I HAD WISHED THEY HAD!
Terry spent a lot of time up in the attic. Winter, Summer, Spring or Fall, his punishment was the same. Terry and I would play from his attic window. I remember sitting below and talking to him. One day he made the ultimate sacrifice and demonstration of love; He threw down his Magic Twangier gun for me to play with. He had received it for his birthday just a few days before. That single act of kindness cemented my love and determination to find SOME way to help him from being punished.
I loved Terry so much because he was going to get me out of that house! We would escape! Terry and I would go in the back yard where he would find wood, nails and a hammer, apparently taken from my father’s barn. He was going to build us a house and we would then move out. All our plans were foiled when my father came home from work. Terry was ordered to put all that stuff back where he found it.
I was born two years after Terry was born. Because I was a girl, my birth was welcomed by both mother and father after losing their only girl, Judy. My brother Bill said I could do no wrong! I was the favorite child! It became increasing evident to me that this was true as I could do basically anything and not be punished. I was reprimanded from time to time, but the belt was only used to threaten me into submission. I can’t remember being hit with it.
Growing up, I do remember feeling like a spectator instead of a participant when my father was in a rage. I only remember being slapped one time when my father was drunk. He was trying to light the gas space heater in the middle of the living room. He had gone to the bathroom to get toilet paper to light it, but instead of tearing off a sheet, he took hold of the end and proceeded to unwind the whole roll from the bathroom to the heater. I laughed. He slapped me for doing so. The next morning, father called me to the side of the bed to apologize. He said he thought I was laughing at him. Of course I was, but I didn’t say a word.
I was a participant in the group spankings, however. Whenever something grievous took place in our home and the guilty party did not confess, we were all taken outside and sat on the fence. Each child was spanked starting from the oldest to the youngest. But my father either ran out of steam by the time he got to me or my screaming and crying gave him pause. I was let go with just a stiff warning.
My brother Normie was produced next from the baby factory 18 months after me. He had dark hair and eyes. He was small and had a difficult time speaking because he stuttered. Normmie was very shy but had a big toothy grin when he smiled.
When Normie was 7 years old he began having difficulty walking. There was a small concrete step in front of our house, and he would avoid using it. He didn’t seem to have the strength in his legs to navigate the step. The doctor diagnosed him with Muscular Dystrophy. It was a very sad time and everyone around me cried. All my aunts and uncles were tested in my mother’s family but no one else carried the gene for this disease. As far as I know, only Normie ever developed this disease.
Normie’s ability to walk or get around quickly vanished and he was then confined to a wheel chair. A few years later he became bedridden. The MDA gave us a hospital bed and a hoyer lift for him. Normie laid in bed all day, every day until his death at the age of 18. . His only real entertainment came from the TV that my father watched in the room outside of Normie’s room. He could see just a crack of it if he laid his head close to the railing of his bed next to the wall.
The children became his primary caretakers. Especially my brother Terry. We would have to lift him when he needed the toilet or the occasional bath. I have muscles today in my arms that I attribute to carrying Normie around. We were charged with bringing his food and drink. We would go into his room to entertain him from time to time. It was heartbreaking to see him lose what little strength he had left. I remember trying to find a toy for him to play with. We settled on a string because he had difficulty holding the toys.
What or who was Normie’s favorite and closest source of joy? The next born child, Peaches. She was a REAL surprise. It was she who became his closest friend. They played together and even fought like most siblings. Normie loved Peaches and Peaches loved him. Peaches was not only an unplanned, unexpected pregnancy, she was a miracle baby. I remember my mother telling me she was going to the hospital for a D&C only to find out she was pregnant. Peaches was the last child born in our house.
My mother’s appendix burst close to the end of that pregnancy, so my father was faced with a choice; save the life of my mother or the life of Peaches if it came to that. God stepped in and made the decision for them both. A month later my baby sister was born.
Peaches was really a present for ME. I can still remember at 8 years of age, being handed a baby. What little girl wouldn’t want to hold a baby? I had no way of knowing just how much she would become MY baby over the years. Now obviously my mother played a part in taking care of her but in my eyes, I was her mini mom. I fed her, change her, had to play with her and worst of all go to bed with her. I would be outside, running and playing with my friend Christine, and I would hear my mother’s voice, “lanadee, lanadee it is time for bed!”. What?? It was 6:30 pm. I was then made to leave everything and everyone else and lay down, sweaty and heart pumping, to put Peaches to sleep. My mother would tell me as I complained that I needed the sleep. I would lay there. Every time I would try and put a foot on the floor, Peaches would raise her head from the pillow. There was no escape
I remember explaining to my friend, how important the Holy Spirit was to my life. How we needed His infilling and guidance. She said she was afraid to open her life to Him. Today’s devotional explains WHO The Holy Spirit is and WHY we need Him.
Would you like to see the video version of today’s devotional?
Holy Week, Monday after Palm Sunday, we remember what Jesus was facing. The Cross, the grave, and then RESURRECTION! Jesus, our Savior, the Son of God, could not be kept in the grave. If we ask for forgiveness of our sins, we can live with Him forever in Heaven. Thank YOU JESUS! A beautiful pictorial is included with the video of this song. Be sure to check it out!
Shortly after they married World War ll broke out and my father was drafted. My mother was forced to move in the attic of her In-laws because father would no longer stay with the in-laws. There were too many people who were having entirely too much fun for my father’s taste. But mother would follow him regardless of the consequences.
Mother was alone, and pregnant. She found work in a candy factory and gave all her money to her mother-in-law for room and board. Her job at the factory? putting the “swirl” on top of the chocolate candy.
After an otherwise normal pregnancy for a woman who smoked, drank and ate poorly, my mother delivered a small, frail baby girl she named Judy. Judy was born with a heart defect that prevented her blood from being fully oxygenated. Children with this condition were called Blue Babies. My sister Judy lived only a short three months and then died. My mother went into a deep depression and her family rallied around to try and hold her up, but there was no consoling her. Mother wrote my father right after Judy was born to give him the good news. But then had to write to tell him of her death. My father was in a combat zone overseas during this time and the mail was sporadic. When the mail did catch up with him, he received Judy’s birth and death announcement on the same day. Father nearly lost his mind. I was told he became so upset and violent in his attempt to be sent home that he struck his commanding officer.
It wasn’t long after that the war was over, but my father came home a changed
man. He was now a very sick, angry, terrifying man.
Welcome the Holy Spirit into your life. Do you need to know what to do? Do you need WISDOM?
James 1:5 Now if any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask for it from God, who gives to all without reservation and not reproaching, and it will be given to him.
So much is going on in this world and in our lives. Each day we need to make decisions that are difficult to make. But our loving Father does not want you to do this alone. Holy Spirit is here and if you allow Him, He will show you what to do.
I’ve been so busy doing..WHAT? I couldn’t tell you. But I did find time to record one of my favorite Hymns. Until Then. I am so excited about that wonderful day when our Lord Jesus returns to take His children home.
Until then, written by Stuart hamblen wrote in 1958. The son of a minister, Stuart wrote many songs prior to his conversion during a Billy Graham Crusade. I hope you enjoy this old Hymn published in a number of Hymnals.
My heart can sing when I pause to remember
A heartache here is but a stepping stone
Along a path that’s winding always upward
This troubled world is not my final home
* But until then my heart will go on singing
Until then with joy I’ll carry on
Until the day my eyes behold the city,
Until the day God calls me home
The things of earth will dim and lose their value
If we recall they’re borrowed for a while
And things of earth that cause this heart to tremble
Remember there will only bring a smile
Welcome to another short Devotional!
Jesus promised to send us the COMFORTER when He went to Heaven. The Holy Spirit rested on Jesus as He walked this earth. We need to be desirous of a relationship with the Holy Spirit as well.
Hello, welcome to another short devotional. To continue our study on the Holy Spirit, we’re going to look at an important step following Salvation. We need to live a sanctified life, a life like Jesus lived. I hope you will listen!
Man’s laws cannot make moral what GOD has declared immoral. Even if a sin is legalized, it is still a sin in the eyes of GOD. Who can help us to live a holy, Sanctified life? The Holy Spirit can!
Do you have a problem or something you would like talk about?
BLESSED REDEEMER -A beautiful old Hymn, written in the 1900’s. Casting Crowns wrote and recorded it with a different melody. No matter which rendition, this is a beautiful song. I hope you will think about the words and think about what they mean. Thank you Jesus for your sacrifice. Thank you for providing eternal life to those who accept you as their personal Savior.
Up Calvary’s mountain, one dreadful morn,
Walked Christ my Savior, weary and worn;
Facing for sinners death on the cross,
That He might save them from endless loss.
Blessed Redeemer! Precious Redeemer!
Seems now I see Him on Calvary’s tree;
Wounded and bleeding, for sinners pleading,
Blind and unheeding—dying for me!
“Father forgive them!” thus did He pray,
Even while His lifeblood flowed fast away;
Praying for sinners while in such woe—
No one but Jesus ever loved so.
Oh, how I love Him, Savior and Friend,
How can my praises ever find end!
Through years unnumbered on heaven’s shore,
My tongue shall praise Him forevermore.
With so many voices demanding to be heard, how do we know who is telling the truth? We have one that Jesus told us would come when He proceeded to Heaven. The Holy Spirit. New York has passed a bill to allow full term babies to be aborted. What does God say about THAT?
The Friend of a Wounded Heart. While not a hymn, it certainly is a song that has touched many hearts. Written by Wayne Watson but made popular by the Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir, directed by Carol Cymbala, the wife of Pastor Jim Cymbala. A 250 voice choir made up of mostly untrained voices.
I love this song, it brings back beautiful memories of times traveling to Florida with my good friend Sheryl. She would drive all the way. And I would sing nearly ALL the way… to hopefully keep her awake and alert.
It is a wonder she is still my friend,lol
Do you have a problem or something you would like to talk about?
How Long Has it Been. A beautiful spiritual song written by Mosie Lister in just 10 minutes. This song has been sung by many over the years and has a powerful message; Wait on the Lord in prayer!
I hope this song blesses you as it has me. Spend time with the Lord. He is worthy!
Do you have a problem or something you would like to talk about?
The first Heaven’s Hymn of 2019, “I Love to Tell the Story”. This is a great song with an even greater message. Michael walked by and joined me tonight. I hope you will sing along as well!
I remain your friend,
I do not know how my parents met, other than they “met one day”, according to my father’s diary. I do know this: neither family was supportive of their marriage. They married anyway. My father was a hardworking, good looking man. He paid for the whole wedding. Mother had a beautiful dress and a church wedding. Her Pastor was not happy about this union, but my parents were in love! This was NOT a marriage made in Heaven.
My mother was not prepared at all for the life that she had chosen. She told me that her mother, like many mothers of her day, said “You made your bed now you lie in it.” There would be no going back home.
There was a housing shortage and so they found themselves living with her family. My father hated it. Her family was close, enjoyed each other’s company and loved spending time together. This along with the boarders coming and going all day and night, mad my father a miserable person to live with. He worked third shift and needed sleep. They stayed in that room, isolated from everyone. My mother would stay married to this man for nearly 60 years, despite their crumbling relationship.
WAR HAS MANY CASUALTIES
Shortly after they married World War ll broke out. My father was drafted. My mother was forced to move in the attic of her mother-in-law because my father would no longer stay at her mother’s house. She would follow him regardless of the consequences as she had no money and no job.
Mother was alone, and pregnant. She found work in a candy factory and gave all her money to her mother-in-law for room and board. Her job at the factory? putting the “swirl” on top of the chocolate candy.
After an otherwise normal pregnancy for a woman who smoked, drank and ate poorly, my mother delivered a small, frail baby girl she named Judy. Judy was born with a heart defect that prevented her blood from being fully oxygenated. Children with this condition were called Blue Babies. My sister Judy lived only a short three months and then died.
My mother went into a deep depression and her family rallied around to try and hold her up, but there was no consoling her. Mother had written my father right after Judy was born to give him the good news and then had to write to tell him of her death.
My father was in a combat zone overseas during this time and the mail was irregular at best. When the mail did catch up with him, he received Judy’s birth and death announcement the same day. Father nearly lost his mind. I was told he became so upset and violent in his attempt to be sent home that he struck his commanding officer. It wasn’t long after that the war was over but my father came home a changed man. He was now a very sick, angry, terrifying man.
This Christmas season is not complete without a Church Christmas Program. I’ve condensed this Live Christmas Tree production to 30 minutes complete with a testimony from Pastor Paul Furrow and an opportunity to accept Christ as your personal Saviour. I hope you enjoy the songs. I hope you enjoy the message. I trust that you know Jesus, the reason for the season. Merry Christmas!
Do you have a problem or something you would like to talk about?
As I woke up in my chair this morning, I realized I was not well. My bronchial tubes were clogged with mucus. I began coughing and each time I coughed, I received a tiny lick on the calf of my leg. Peaches was sleeping next to me. She has been my constant companion and comfort. Peaches insists on sleeping. wedged next to my leg in the recliner. I have been here for 8 days and nights.
My leg was cramping, and as I stood I realized how weak and sick I felt. I began taking inventory. My head and bronchial tubes, still congested, my throat sore, and my stomach complaining like I hadn’t fed it in a week. We all know that isn’t true. The one thing I do know is that I did not want to wake up. I resisted as long as I could. I was having the most glorious dream.
My dream started out with me sitting with an old friend. There was a comfortability in his presence and I was delighted to see him as we sat to chat. I was sure that we both had ministered together a long time ago. ( I believe the friend was the Lord and we were remembering awesome times in His presence. It was wonderful being together once again )
I was then going over songs with a pianist in preparation for an upcoming service. As I sang, I began to preach about the goodness of the Lord! Words flowed out of me with great anointing.
The scene changed and the glory of the Lord was so tangible I was able to see it pouring into the room like a waterfall. I stood under the gold speckled water. It was alive and I was rejoicing in his presence! Hallelujah! Looking heavenward, I lifted my hands, spinning round and around. I knew that His presence was changing me. My sickness was vanishing. I was being filled with joy!
I then heard the voice of the Lord: “You do not need to go anywhere to find my presence. I am right here!” I laughed, and danced, and spun round and round; I wanted more and more of what I had found. HIM! I was standing in the very presence of the Lord God almighty!
All I need do to be in His presence; this glorious presence, is to spend time with Him. Thank you Jesus! All YOU need to do to be in His presence is to spend time with Him!
Taste and see that the Lord is good!
In His presence is fullness of joy!
It saddens me to say that I have a virus that prevents me from singing the wonderful songs we sing this time of the year. But that will not keep me from posting from the past. I love Christmas. The songs, the giving of gifts, and of course the cookies 🙂 When I bake I put all my energy in the finished product. It is apparent to me I need to put a bit more time into the “process” lol. NO one can destroy a kitchen faster than I.
I hope you are enjoying this time with family and friends. Let us not forget the reason for our celebration. The birth of our Lord Jesus!
Special guest singers: Wesley Davis and Michael Law
Do you have a question or something you would like to talk about?
Christmas is the time to celebrate the birth of our Savior, Jesus Christ. It seems that this time of year people are more apt to put away their differences and remember their love for family friends and all of mankind.
While not a hymn or spiritual song, I feel this song might help you to enter this Christmas season with warm thoughts of yesteryear. A time with family and friends. A time to pray for peace throughout our world. Enjoy this season. It is afterall, the most wonderful time of the year.
What better friend to have then God? And it is God’s desire to be just that to you and I. It’s time we become HIS friend. Another short devotional. Special music by Israel Houghton. Excerpts from James Ryle/ Rylism
Do you have a question or something or need someone to talk to?
As I sit in my chair reflecting on my day, I am content. I am happy that I was able to spend time with people I love. Happy that I was able to provide a beautiful meal in a warm house and sit in my easy chair to relax afterwards.
God is truly good to me and I want to thank Him for ALL His blessings!
If you celebrate Thanksgiving tomorrow, have a wonderful time with your family.
I would like to share a word from President Abe Lincoln with you. If you take the time to read it I believe it will bless you:
October 3, 1863
By the President of the United States of America.
The year that is drawing towards its close, has been filled with the blessings of
fruitful fields and healthful skies. To these bounties, which are so constantly
enjoyed that we are prone to forget the source from which they come, others have
been added, which are of so extraordinary a nature, that they cannot fail to
penetrate and soften even the heart which is habitually insensible to the ever
watchful providence of Almighty God. In the midst of a civil war of unequalled
magnitude and severity, which has sometimes seemed to foreign States to invite
and to provoke their aggression, peace has been preserved with all nations,
order has been maintained, the laws have been respected and obeyed, and harmony
has prevailed everywhere except in the theatre of military conflict; while that
theatre has been greatly contracted by the advancing armies and navies of the
Union. Needful diversions of wealth and of strength from the fields of peaceful
industry to the national defence, have not arrested the plough, the shuttle or
the ship; the axe has enlarged the borders of our settlements, and the mines, as
well of iron and coal as of the precious metals, have yielded even more
abundantly than heretofore. Population has steadily increased, notwithstanding
the waste that has been made in the camp, the siege and the battle-field; and
the country, rejoicing in the consciousness of augmented strength and vigor, is
permitted to expect continuance of years with large increase of freedom. No
human counsel hath devised nor hath any mortal hand worked out these great
things. They are the gracious gifts of the Most High God, who, while dealing
with us in anger for our sins, hath nevertheless remembered mercy. It has seemed
to me fit and proper that they should be solemnly, reverently and gratefully
acknowledged as with one heart and one voice by the whole American People. I do
therefore invite my fellow citizens in every part of the United States, and also
those who are at sea and those who are sojourning in foreign lands, to set apart
and observe the last Thursday of November next, as a day of Thanksgiving and
Praise to our beneficent Father who dwelleth in the Heavens. And I recommend to
them that while offering up the ascriptions justly due to Him for such singular
deliverances and blessings, they do also, with humble penitence for our national
perverseness and disobedience, commend to His tender care all those who have
become widows, orphans, mourners or sufferers in the lamentable civil strife in
which we are unavoidably engaged, and fervently implore the interposition of the
Almighty Hand to heal the wounds of the nation and to restore it as soon as may
be consistent with the Divine purposes to the full enjoyment of peace, harmony,
tranquillity and Union.
In testimony whereof, I have hereunto set my hand and caused the Seal of the United
States to be affixed.
Done at the City of Washington, this Third day of October, in the year of our Lord
one thousand eight hundred and sixty-three, and of the Independence of the
United States the Eighty-eighth.
My father also lived in Milwaukee, but his upbringing was different. He was the only son and had one sister. He once told me that his family was wealthy in comparison to my mother’s family. They lived in a beautiful brick home in a nice quiet neighborhood.
I know very little about my father’s side of the family except for the few things he shared and a couple of sketchy memories that I have. We rarely went to see them. I don’t think we were ever invited. When we did go my brothers, sister and I had to sit against the wall in the basement. We stayed where we were put. Back then children were seen and not heard. We were given cake. I was worried that I might drop a crumb on the floor. You could have eaten off my grandmother’s floor. Nothing like our home, that’s for sure.
Very little was ever said about my father’s family. Each year on my Grandpa F’s birthday my father would call to wish him a Happy Birthday. No such call ever came to our house for any of our Birthdays.
My father said they did not like my mother and that was the reason they disowned him. I never felt that was the reason. What I did know was that my father’s parents wanted nothing to do with any of us. It was as if we did not exist.
My mother told me that my father was made to leave home and live with his uncle because he fought too much with his sister. Years later I found a diary that indicated my father lived home up until he married. He did have a close relationship with his uncle but do not see anything that indicates he was made to leave home. This was one of many “stories” I would find he told that lacked an element of truth.
Father’s sister was loved and wanted. Later, her daughter was also cherished, and I think my father despised her for it. Grandpa F died at 102 years of age.
At the age of 14, my father went through Confirmation in the Lutheran Church. He said they excommunicated him for not paying the money he was required to pay as a member of the church. He wanted nothing more to do with them or any other church or God from that time forward. All he needed was himself… and my mother.
Could it be that if you are presently experiencing your own desert experience, then the Lord is getting ready to call you into a more effective ministry than you have known? Today’s short devotional is taken from a James Ryle “Rylism”.
I have been listening and learning tonight. Many of you have heard about the remarkable little girl, Pearl Joy Brown. She was born with next to a zero chance of living. Pearl had a condition known as Alobar Holoprosencephaly. The Doctors strongly urged her mother and father to abort her. They did not, and the Lord saw fit to keep her on this earth for 5 1/2 years. Her father gave a testimony that I believe should be heard by everyone.
This story tells about the dignity and importance of life. ALL LIFE. With the election coming up in a few short days, we need to think. Will our vote support and encourage women to rethink the abortion of their child? Or, by not voting, are we inviting in those who believe in aborting a child nearing full term?
His testimony speaks about the dignity of each life, but also the importance of seeing God’s hand in the trials and sufferings we go through.
*What an incredibly sad mistake it would be for us to go through the hard seasons of our lives with our eyes closed and our ears covered, chanting false platitudes to ourselves and waiting for the storms to pass. Surely with that approach we can avoid a world of pain. But in doing so, we’d miss out on everything else in the process. And especially the main thing. As God has promised to be near to the brokenhearted.
It is better to have His presence by way of tremendous heartache then to have frivolity in the midst of spiritual oblivion. We ought to run to where it hurts and to where our heart break and perhaps encourage our children to do the same. God has promised to be in those places and I believe that is often why I am more aware of His presence in the children’s ICU than I am the church carnival.
Surely, He is in both places, but my heart is more acutely tuned to Him during the seasons of suffering and confusion often had with Pearl. In tagging along, saddled on the back of the presence of Christ, is a disproportionate amount of joy. Though not always a celebratory and surface one. it is sober and is a deeply sustaining joy.” Eric Brown
Pearl Joy was indeed a gift from the Father. She was a joy!
Grace, Grace WONDERFUL Grace, coming down from the Father Above
So many people feel the mistakes they make in life cannot, or will not be forgiven. This is NOT what the Word of God says:
Psalm 103:10 He hath not dealt with us after our sins; nor rewarded us according to our iniquities. 103:11 For as the heaven is high above the earth, so great is his mercy toward them that fear him. 103:12 As far as the east is from the west, so far hath he removed our transgressions from us.
We must ask forgiveness for, and repent of, our sins. Jesus paid the ultimate sacrifice to atone for our sins. As we surrender our life, He replaces our sins with His Holy Spirit. The Lord wants to be a part of our lives here on earth, and for all eternity in Heaven.
Won’t you give your life to Him?
Do you have a problem or situation you would like to talk about?
My mother was beautiful.She was French on her father’s side and “Heinz 57” variety on her mother’s side. Mother was petite. She had long, dark, curly hair, pretty eyes,
well-proportioned legs, slim ankles and small feet. I wanted to look just like her when I grew up.But I didn’t.I inherited the German ankles, feet and legs from my father’s side of the family. I only inherited my mother’s overbite.
Mother was the oldest of five children. The 1920’s and 30’s were tough times because of the depression, so my Grandma Fl did everything she could to keep food on the table including take in boarders. The beds were slept in around the clock because of different shift workers. Grandma was always cooking, and she believed in putting out a big spread.My mother said she would put out empty dishes on the table to make it look like
they had more food.
When I was older I remember that grandma worked outside the house as a “Part Time
Parent”.She would clean house and care for the children of wealthy people.
I was able to go with her occasionally to entertain the kids. I loved my grandma and always secretly thought I was her favorite.She taught me many things and I knew she was always praying for me.
Grandpa Fl worked odd jobs. One job he had was playing guitar at a local tavern with
a group of guys.Grandpa was tremendously talented.He built instruments and repaired them.My mother kept one of his guitars in the attic until it fell completely apart due
to the extreme temperatures. Grandpa spoke very little but was fun to be around. I remember that he would come over to sit at our kitchen table, running his fingers over the cool Formica top.He would search for any food particle I might have missed after I washed it and point it out to me.It was a game I enjoyed, and never won.
Mother did not enjoy all the responsibility placed upon her as the eldest of five siblings. One day grandmother sent her to buy school shoes and she came home with heels instead.My grandmother was so mad that she made her walk to school in those shoes. Mother said she learned her lesson.
The Fl family went to church each Sunday.They were taught about the love of God and His desire to be first place in their lives. Mother’s heart was stirred and at the age of 16, felt called to be a missionary. I remember reading a letter she wrote to God, expressing her desire to fulfill that calling. That plan was interrupted when she met and married my father and that letter has since disappeared.
A classic Hymn, reminding us that nothing can wash away our sins
except the blood of Jesus.
My former Pastor is 89 years old and retired from the largest A/G church in town. He is still hosting a Hymn sing once a month and leads a Bible study each Sunday morning. Sadly, many of us have a hard time just getting out of bed on Sunday.
This song was on the list from the last Hymn Sing. I hope you remember it and sing along! If you would like to see the video version of this song you can either watch it on my youtube page: Heavens Hymns YouTube or my facebook page: Heavens Hymns
Do you have a problem or situation you would like to talk about?
There are times when we don’t know which way to turn. By praising the Lord we put thing back in place. Our burdens lift. Our heart becomes light once again.
We do not serve an egotistical God. As C.S. Lewis once said when researching this subject, ” HE is worthy.” That is why we should praise Him. So let’s take our eyes off the problem and place them firmly on Him.
I never liked the attic. It was unfinished, small, dark and dirty. There were two open areas and one room with a door at the end of the hall. The slanted wooden walls were uninsulated, and the attic was cold. The only heat came from the floor below and what could drift up the stairs when the door was left open. It was as barren a place as any attic could be. I would venture up the steep narrow steps occasionally to see my brothers who slept there. A small door in the back wall led to the space my father used for storage.
A short time before I left home for good, I had a dream. I dreamt that I was in the attic.I
opened the small door and to my surprise; I entered a completely different house.It was filled with beautiful things and expensive furniture.I was so excited! Somehow, I knew that everything I saw belonged to me. I slowly opened a drawer on the dresser but before
I could see the contents, I woke up.
I had this same dream over and over for years. The location was different, but the theme was the same. The building and everything in it belonged to me but I would awake before I could see the contents.It drove me crazy! I tried for years to understand the meaning of this dream.
Many years later I dreamed yet another dream. I opened that attic door once again and
finally understood what the Lord was trying to show me.
I’m getting all the bells and whistles working on my website. I never thought I would get as excited as I have doing so. If you like you should be able to comment now. I believe it is working :). Note: You will have to write a couple of words or sentences or the web will think you are a robot.
For all those who have faithfully followed my old website I thought I would post the very first dearlanadee podcast. I have spared you the pain of all my microphone pops and my nervous repeating of the word well etc. So this is the revised version.
Back when I originally began podcasting I did so because I thought, in telling my story, I could find peace and purpose for my otherwise, stressful living situation. You see, my mother had moved into my home. This was my escape, so to speak. But everything had to be perfect before I could record. And I had to be unavailable for the evening. That was difficult to accomplish. Thankfully I can now put up a podcast in a few short hours. What a difference 11 years make.
Until the next time we meet, I remain your friend,