The Memorial Service

We walked into the beautiful church. It was smaller than mine. Then again, most churches are smaller than mine. It was also older. And more traditional. A beautiful stained glass window depicting Jesus kneeling in prayer was over the pulpit. The organ played softly. A woman greeted me warmly, handed me a funeral home fan and guided me to an empty seat in the pew. My youngest son looked around expectantly. He had never been here before. Neither had I.

It was the first time either of us had set foot in Cumberland AME Church. And had it not been for the horrific event of Wednesday, June 17, 2015, we would still be strangers to the sanctuary.

But it did happen. And I read about tonight's memorial service on Facebook. I told Jackson that we were going (my oldest son is out of town), and another friend of mine was joining us. I told him that he might not get why it was important for us to be there, but he would later.

The sanctuary was full - almost equal black and white. But I still felt a little like an outsider. Not that any of the others there caused my apprehension. At all. It was all me - because I was not affected in the same way as they were. Of course, as a South Carolinian, I was deeply saddened, horrified and pained. I cried many times over the past few days. But never had anyone in my family been murdered in cold blood because of what they looked like. What did I know about any of their experiences?

But it was important that I be there.

It was lovely and somber and appropriate. The organizers and staff of the church had made it a beautiful memorial. And then people were invited to come forward to share. And what words. What strength. What hope. The faith of these men and women of God, young and old. As their words poured out, I furiously scribbled notes on an envelope I found in my purse:

~ "We must love this young man. We must pray for him that the evil will leave him."

~ "It's not easy to understand what God does or why He lets things happen. But I know this: God will make a miracle out of this mess."

~ "Do not hate. We are all brothers and sisters."

~ "We forgive. For God forgives us every day."

~ "It is not about skin color. It's not!  It is about the evil presence that is trying to take over. But God and His love will prevail!"

~ "Let us love one another for we serve the same God."

~ "Some of my friends want to start 'packing' (a gun) when they go to church. Not me! I am going to be packing something much stronger: the Word of God!"

And finally, a woman stood up and started singing "It is Well with My Soul". The entire congregation stood up, clasped hands and joined her.

It's one thing to hear people say all these things on news reports and interviews. It's an entirely different emotion to hear it in person a few feet away. And I left feeling not as an outsider. I left feeling as a true member of God's family, as a sister in His larger community. And although we know there is such evil out there in our sinful world, I left feeling hopeful - and in a sense, emboldened and empowered by my time with my brothers and sisters.

Welcome to the Gothic Interfaith Community Center

When coming back to my blog, I didn't really have an idea of what it was going to become, or what I WANTED it to become.  But I'm realizing that this outlet is allowing me to share - in my writing - what I might not be able to convey as eloquently in an everyday conversation.  I'm always the one who wishes in hindsight that I had said things differently or more passionately or with more conviction.

I've heard today that the National Cathedral in Washington, D.C. has created quite a stir in both the conservative and more inclusive sets of Christians. (And I have dear family members who are passionately in both camps.)  The National Cathedral is part of the Episcopal church (of which I was raised) and (in my opinion) has been increasingly involved in more political activism than transforming lives through Christ.

The big controversy that has ensued was a Muslim prayer service that was held this past Friday in the Cathedral.  My initial response was one of little surprise.  

According to the National Cathedral's 36 page Strategic Plan, here is the ONLY PLACE in their Mission Statement that Jesus Christ is mentioned: Washington National Cathedral was established to hold a special role in the nation’s life and continues to answer that call. As it does so it commits to the ancient vision, fervently proclaimed by Jesus in the Gospels, of a building open to all who seek a place of prayer and barred to no particular religious tradition or sect.  Call me ignorant, but I can't think of anywhere in the Bible where He invited Roman pantheists to hang out with Him and worship their gods.

It appears that the Cathedral has changed its course and has become more of a "gothic interfaith community center". So the concerns of Franklin Graham are really of no consequence:  "It’s sad to see a church open its doors to the worship of anything other than the One True God of the Bible who sent His Son, the Lord Jesus Christ, to earth to save us from our sins.  Jesus was clear when He said, ‘I am the way the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Me’ (John 14:6).”

I truly don't have a problem with interfaith gatherings. I believe all are created by God. I love learning about other's traditions and how they connect to my own.  And I have friends of many faiths.  When they have sacred holidays, I joyfully wish them a "Happy ....." By the same token, they wish me a Merry Christmas or ask me how my Easter was. There is a mutual respect for each others' faith - whether or not we share it. But it is reported that Muslim prayer carpets were laid out inside the cathedral facing east, towards Mecca, for the prayer service. They were also to the side of the sanctuary (as reported by Voice of America, the Washington Post, and other news outlets) so that worshippers would not see the crosses or Christian icons, because “Muslims are not supposed to pray in view of sacred symbols alien to their faith.”  Why? Why? Why would a church want to host a prayer service where they have to hide the cross?  That would be like me asking my friend if I could celebrate Holy Communion in her temple - but please remove the Torah.

My concern is that political correctness (and please don't confuse that with Christian love and charity) overshadows our call to follow Christ as our Lord and Savior. And to host a Muslim prayer service to Allah in a church of believers (what is Biblically called the bride of Christ), basically tells our Chriatian faith, "Hey, I need a little break from this relationship."

And I'm not willing to be on a "break".

Giving Thanks - Part 2

As I began and continued writing this blog three years ago, I only measured how much it was being read by the comments that were posted. And oh, how my self-worth as a blogger was dependent on those comments. I was much like the teenage girls who check to see how many "likes" or followers they have on Instagram. It was only a week ago (yes, I am slow) that I discovered the Blogger Stats page on my dashboard. Oh, there are the real numbers. Well then.

And it was on that stats page that I realized more and more people are reading my Giving Thanks - Part 1 post. That was my very last post in 2011 - with no Part 2! I had promised to tell of "...how God's hand was such a part of those few days from October 4th through the 7th. Days that could possibly only be described by someone as a nightmare. Yet there were so many glimpses of His presence, His Holy Spirit moving among us, His unexpected - and unexplained - gifts and blessing."

And I fell short and broke my promise. (Now this post is pretty graphic, but I feel it needs to be told so that you can understand the magnitude of how I feel the glimpses of God were so evident.)

After my father-in-law's funeral on October 7, 2011, my parents, grandmother and two sons left for my parents' home a little over an hour away. My husband and I waved goodbye and went back to his mother's to decompress. Around an hour later, we received a call from my brother-in-law that there had been a terrible one-car accident. A tire had blown and my parents' SUV had flipped three times.

Herein lies the first blessing.  My sister and brother-in-law had left the funeral before my parents. They stopped at a convenience store and, therefore, ended up behind them and drove up on the wreck site. They were the first on the scene. Somehow, Sumter was able to get out of his seatbelt and crawl out of one of the broken windows. They saw him standing on the side of the interstate beside the overturned SUV. My sister was immediately able to comfort Sumter as well as assess the situation. (She works as a physical therapist in the trauma unit.). Do I believe God had a hand in them being the first on the scene? Absolutely, I do.

But no such luck for Jackson. He was still trapped inside, eyes squeezed shut to block out the blood-soaked view of my mother, but not the sound of the moans of both my parents. My grandmother was halfway thrown from the vehicle and her leg was on his shoulder. His seatbelt was stuck and he couldn't get out.

But herein lies the second blessing.  Jackson tells us that he didn't get out by himself. He says an African-American man with dreadlocks and a Yankees baseball cap came up to the SUV and asked, "Hey, buddy. Can you get out?" (This was a man he says he saw just moments before the accident in a green car. He says the man smiled and waved to him as he drove by.) Jackson told him that he couldn't. The man got box cutters, cut the seatbelt and helped him climb out. Jackson swears this happened. He can describe the man and his voice. But no one else saw or talked to this man. We've asked my sister and brother-in-law. We've asked other witnesses. We've asked the highway patrol. We've even seen photos. There were no African-Americans in any of the photographs. No green car anywhere near the site. That's crazy, we thought. This was a wreck that made the AP news wire and was even on the evening news in other parts of the country. This was a wreck that held up traffic for many miles and hours. No one just leaves the scene of a wreck of that magnitude. No one... but an angel. And we hold on to that truth. Do I believe God had a hand in that deadlocked angel in a Yankees cap? Absolutely, I do.

Both of my parents were airlifted to the trauma center where my sister works. Sumter and Jackson were both banged up pretty badly and were taken to the same hospital, but they were ok. I found this out from my brother-in-law's phone call. But as many times I asked, he wouldn't say anything about my grandmother. I don't know whether it was because he didn't want to tell me on the phone or because he alone had just witnessed her last moments alive.

And herein lies the last blessing I will share. My sweet Muz was not wearing a seatbelt and was thrown halfway out of the SUV. I still don't know all of the details of how she was found by my brother-in-law in relation to the vehicle. I'm not sure I want to know. What I do know is that she was pinned. She was breathing. Her eyes were closed. Her body was in shock. But her last moments were with my brother-in-law holding her head and praying over her. And then she died.  How beautiful is that? After something so violent and sudden, to have your granddaughter's husband, a Godly, faithful man who loves you and you love back, usher you out of your life on here on earth to your eternal life in heaven. Do I believe God had a hand in that?  Absolutely, I do.

So there they are. The glimpses of God and His involvement in even the most tragic circumstances in our lives. The reminders that He is in control. The promises that He will bless even the most painfuland incomprehensible times. And for these I am grateful.

Be the Reason

Have you ever taken one of those quizzes on Facebook? Don't lie, you know you have. Well earlier today, I took "What Your Life Motto Should Be". So after taking the quiz and thinking my answer was so cliche, I took it again with my second choice answers. I then took it for the third time with some of the same answers as the first time and some of the answers from the second time. My (so-called) life motto was always the same: Be the reason someone smiles today. Vomit.

I saw the comments from other people with their results. Theirs were so much more real and authentic. I wanted theirs. Theirs were "If you can dream it, you can achieve it" and "When writing the story of your life, don't let anyone else hold the pen for you" and "Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass, it’s about learning to dance in the rain".

Again, here is what my life motto should be according to the all-knowing creator of aforementioned Facebook quiz:

"Be the reason someone smiles today" - Don't forget to spread some of your happiness around. You are lucky, you have a lot of great things going on in your life to be thankful for, and a lot of light within you that you can share with others...

And again, vomit. Bleh, bleh, bleh. Whoever created this Pulitzer Prize winning quiz does not have a clue. Because we are going through some rough times right now. My husband is still not 100% since his "gall bladder explosion" back in February (if you have no idea what I am talking about, click here), and the closing of Tea Garden Gifts has certainly taken its toll. Life is not all golden. I worry a lot. And I grow weary. I get tired and anxious. I cry.

And then HE reminds me - again. (Because I forget over and over and over and over) HE whispers to me, "My precious, precious child. Times are rough right now. You do have a lot on your plate. It's does look dark. But you do have a light inside of you: ME. I am the Light that shines in your darkness. In your worry. In your anxiety. I am the Lion, who will mightily overcome, and the Lamb, who will gently guide you." Wow.

And then I remember HIS promise to me:
The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. John 1:5

And I guess as long as I can remember that, I can be the reason someone smiles today.

Sometimes the Most Horrible People are the Most Wonderful Ministers

It's funny how something that once gave me such joy and fulfillment became a chore and burden.  It's been almost three years since I last wrote.  I felt that what was going on in my life with the tragedies that surrounded my family were sucking any creative juices out of me.  I was stalled.  Plus, "It's a Golden Day" is supposed to be golden, right? I wasn't golden.  I was tarnished.   And this year has been no better.  My husband was hospitalized for almost six weeks for a ruptured gallbladder and intense infection that would not go away.What with his Freidriechs Ataxia, the recuperation has been hard. And just who wanted to read about that anyway?

I guess some people do.

I just returned from my annual beach trip with 14 college friends. (Actually, my third post five years ago was about these phenomenal women.)  Some of whom - although we weren't the closest in college - have now become my dearest friends and confidants. We spent the weekend eating, laughing, crying and spending the evenings playing that game "Cards Against Humanity: the game for horrible people".  If you've never played it, it REALLY is horrible.  So horrible that we took out all the cards about God and stuck to the cards with words we had to look up on the internet.  But we laughed so hard and learned so much!  And I love those horrible people!

Over the course of the weekend, a few mentioned that they missed reading my blog. They mentioned specific posts that spoke to them.  They told me how some stories still resonate - and mentioned them by name. One told me that it ministered to her.  Others agreed that my blog was a ministry.

Whoa now.  Ministry? This was supposed to be a silly "Mom Blog".  Pictures of my children. Family events. Recipes. And even a little frivolous, self-absorbed, materialistic "interest pieces" thrown in for good measure. I don't write those women's ministry blogs.  I minister to others through my blog? I don't know about that. I feel very unworthy about it.  If you complimented me on a party I threw or a great lesson I taught or the colors and patterns I have in my living room, I could accept that very easily.  But if you compliment me on how I've handled a situation or that you think I've done something with grace or selflessness, I find that hard to swallow.  Because I don't feel I've done anything at all. I don't feel worthy of such words. Because I can be very unlovable at times.  I can be sullen.  I can be tired.  I can be irritable. And someone who is selfless or graceful doesn't act that way.  But I am a broken, sinful and prideful person. I just think I'm human, doing what anyone would do if God gave them the same situation.

And it was ME who was ministered to this past weekend. These women inspire me to grow closer to Christ and to strengthen my relationship with Him. Never take my eyes off of Him. They don't know it, but they are not only my friends, but my mentors. They are wise counsel and they know exactly what to say.  God gives them the words - exactly what I need. And I love them so much for it.

So it seems we all have a ministry to use for each other.  In this crazy world we call our life.  We all have a gift to share. We all have something to offer.  Even when we feel so unworthy and imperfect. We all minister to each other with the richness that others see. And I guess I'll start back with mine...

Martha has broken...

It was what we expected, but wouldn't admit. It was what we knew secretly in our hearts, but wouldn't listen to. Brain cancer.

(And please pardon the poor writing style. I'm still exhausted and in the "just the facts, ma'am" mode.)

Yesterday was probably the most emotionally draining day I have ever had. Mike and I didn't get home until after 11:00. We had been at the hospital for twelve hours. His father went in for surgery at 3:30 and came out about four hours later. The waiting was exhausting. My sweet mother-in-law couldn't eat. She had her hand on her cell phone waiting for the updates that would come every hour.

His wonderful neurosurgeon finally came out with the news that we cognitively were expecting. But you are never prepared. They took out 2/3 of a malignant tumor. They couldn't take out any more as it was too close to the "motor strip" of the brain. The cancer has spread down the temporal lobe. The good news is that it is primary to the brain and will not metastasize to other parts of the body. They are very optimistic that that can treat it with chemotherapy and radiation. We will know more in the next 48 hours and then more in a few weeks. He is now in ICU and will be for the next 24-48 hours.

Last night while we were waiting in the IVU waiting room, I finally cried. I finally broke. I hadn't since we found out about the tumor on Wednesday. I don't cry. Especially during crisis. That's because I am a "Martha". No, not Martha Stewart. Martha from the Bible. If you remember when Jesus visited the home of sisters, Mary and Martha, it was Martha who was constantly doing. She was the one taking care and making sure things were done - all the time. That was me this week: asking the doctor questions, writing down and clarifying everything he said, emailing reports to family and friends, Facebooking to request prayers - and organizing where S And J would be during all of this. And finally, being there for Mike. But that's how I cope - and that was the role I was needed to play.

We have received Facebook posts, emails and phone calls telling us how prayers have been lifted on our behalf and asking how/if we need anything. We have been overwhelmed with this outpouring. Of course we still do not understand why this is happening.

My 12 year old's observation makes me realize that, even in these times, we must keep a childlike faith: when I tried to explain the seriousness of the situation to him the night before last, he responded, "Yes, it is bad. There are always going to be horrible things that happen in our lives. BUT GOD ALWAYS MAKES SOMETHING GOOD HAPPEN FROM IT, AND HE WILL THIS TIME TOO."

Racing Against the Enemy

This past Saturday was the Aiken Trials. It was a beautiful sunny day. Mike, the boys, and I enjoyed ourselves with the warm temps and good food. I even caught this great action shot of three of the horses.


But I want you to take a good look at it. You see, when I look at the picture I see something completely different than horses on a racetrack. Something totally unrelated. And it hit me Sunday morning what it was...

Yesterday, as many Sundays as of late have been my house, was full of stress. The boys were arguing with and picking on each other. They were playing around instead of getting ready for church. One complained that his pancakes did not have chocolate chips in them. (Was he for real???). The other was talking back and rolling his eyes. (I don't think so young man!!!). It was all I could do not to throw in the towel and forget church.

But then I remembered that the sermon series was on being at war with the Enemy. How timely. For yesterday, my family was at war with the Enemy - who was absolutely loving this. And his demons of Discord, Anger and Stress were rampant all over our home. They were lurking in every corner, leering from the ceiling, and slithering in and out of rooms. For our family yesterday morning, there was no joy or contentment. I felt defeated. That is, until Mike reminded me that us giving up and not going to church was exactly what Satan wanted.

Well, those of you who know me, know that I don't give up easily once I know that someone challenges me - especially a mental challenge. So I stood my ground against the Enemy. I prayed, right then and there for strength. Then I told the boys exactly what was going on - and that we, as a family, were not going to be defeated.


Now, back to the picture and what I see... as metaphorical as it may be. The two jockeys in the front are Mike and me. The jockey in the back is the Enemy. As Christian parents, a Christian couple - and Christians on our own, we are constantly being pursued and chased by the Enemy. But also like those jockeys in the front, we must be strong and committed to never be defeated. We will win the race!

He Could Be a Superhero

One thing our family does when we sit down for a meal together is have a family devotion time. We started doing this in July of last year and made a pledge to make this a priority at least 3-4 times a week. I found a wonderful site that has a daily family devotion and Bible reading: Josh McDowell Ministries. I have bookmarked the site and use my iPad in reading it each evening.



Some nights are better than others. On those nights, S and J are listening and offering insights, questions, and prayers. On the other nights, I just want to give up and say to heck with it. Is my effort even worth it?

Tonight it definitely was. Tonight's topic was about being a liberator and a "superhero" for God. The following is and excerpt. ...However, here's an awesome fact: To all the kids in your school and community who don't know Christ, you can be a spiritual superhero. When you help others trust in Jesus, you rescue them from the power of sin and Satan.

Most Christians like the idea of following Jesus. We might need a little persuading, however, that telling others about Christ is a great idea. Let me give you three big reasons why this superhero mission is a job you'll want to accept.

Reason Number 1: ...No matter how happy people might look, if they haven't trusted Christ they're separated from God. Jesus felt compassion for the people around him who weren't saved. He said they were "harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd" (Matthew 9:36, NIV).

Reason Number 2: God's rescue plan won't work without you. Jesus told his first disciples to tell others about him—from home (for them, that was Jerusalem) all the way to the ends of the earth (Acts 1:8). And nowadays someone still needs to tell the Good News to people nearby—and not so nearby. God wants you to be that someone! Like the apostle Paul said, "How can [people] call on [God] to save them unless they believe in him? And how can they believe in him if they have never heard about him? And how can they hear about him unless someone tells them?" (Romans 10:14).

Reason Number 3: You want to rescue others because God rescued you. Paul said Christ's love made him want to join God's rescue mission (see 2 Corinthians 5:14-15). Think about this: What would your life be like today without Christ? If you are glad that God lovingly invited you to be his child, then join him in inviting others to trust him. The more deeply you understand God's love for you, the more you will want to help others find him.

Your mission is no secret. God's Word is clear: You're a spiritual superhero. And there's nothing better you can be!

This really got to S. He really has a strong handle on his faith and has even led one of his friends to Christ by inviting and encouraging him to come to Youth Group with him this fall. But he has another good friend, "John", whom he is concerned about. This boy is a great kid and faithful friend. But S has said over and over that he doesn't know where John stands although he says he's a Christian: "I go to church some." S has tried to invite him to Youth Group and his middle school's Fellowship of Christian Athletes as well but gets the cold shoulder and "that's stupid" and lots of other excuses. Mike and I told him not to give up, to be that superhero and keep praying for his friend. S is committed to this, and we thank God for that. Tonight was an encouraging night... for all of us.

ATTAINABLE Goals... 8 is Enough!

Here I am on January 1, 2011. And I am blah. I am a bit numb. I am unmotivated. I am in a rut.

Oh, I had a lovely Christmas. My house was beautifully decorated. I entertained and was entertained. My family lit the Advent candle and sporadically (not good, I know) read from the Gospel of Luke. I acted the part... much like I feel I have been doing for the past few months. It's easy. But I'm just tired now.

Enter Sherrie at Organizing Diva. Well at least vicariously through her blog! She has just posted her goals for the new year. And I really like how she has organized them in ten ORGANIZATION FOCUS AREAS.


I'm calling mine 8 is Enough. Basically because that's about all I can handle!

1) Spiritual
2) Financial
3) Fitness/Health
4) Beauty
5) Home
6) Family
7) Personal
8) Menu Planning

She then lists just a few goals - not resolutions, but ATTAINABLE GOALS. I stress attainable because if not, then what's the point? So here are mine...

1) Spiritual:
*Be diligent in my prayer life. Pray for something SPECIFIC for my husband and children every day.
*Family devotion at supper at least 3-4 nights a week. We were doing really well with this but have fallen by the wayside.
*Pray with boys every night. Even when I am exhausted OR they have made me crazy!

2) Financial:
*Stop impulse buying!
*Start S and J's commission for chores again. Why did I stop that? It really worked.

3) Fitness/Health:
*Drink 8 glasses of water (or Crystal Light - that counts in my book!)
*Eat less processed foods
*Exercise
*Lose 5 pounds each month until I reach MY comfort level. This will be the hardest...

4) Beauty:
*Wash face every night. Yes, many nights I do go to sleep without taking my make up off. Not good...
*Pedicures monthly
*Brow wax every 6 weeks

5) Home:
*Keep better laundry schedule. Get back on track with boys doing their laundry once a week.
*Take clothes/items to Goodwill on the tenth of every month. I know I will have at least ten things each month!
*Take 15 minutes every Saturday to clean out a drawer or closet. Yes, ONLY 15 a week. You'd think this wouldn't have to be a goal!

6) Family:
*Bi-Weekly date night with Mike. I know I should strive for weekly, but I'm doing ATTAINABLE here!
*Bi-weekly Family night. Family movie, game, etc. The boys really do love this...

7) Personal:
*Call my mother and sister more often.
*Mother/Daughter/Sister overnight visit every 2-3 months
*Call BFF more often
*Read at least 4 books this year. I know this is pitiful...

8) Menu planning:
*Weekly menus
*Grocery lists
*Inventory freezer
*Inventory pantry I'm using Entertaining Kitchen's Well-stocked Pantry to help me with this!
*Clip coupons

So here I go. Now that I've put in some thought - and have posted it for the world to see... I think I am ready. I am also copying this and putting it on my bathroom mirror. Say some prayers...

Fields of Faith

Yesterday I had waited all day for it: Bunco night. I love the Wednesday night when I am able to relax with my friends and a glass of wine. Sometimes we play. But more often than not, we just sit around, chat, and partake the wonderful hors d'oeuvres our hostess prepares. I was ready to go. I had the boys' golf and youth group deliveries and pick-ups worked out for the late afternoon and evening.

And then S told me the news: no Middle School youth group tonight. Instead, they were invited to this thing called "Fields of Faith".


I won't go too much into it. You can read about it here. I will say that all over the country, on October 13, high school chapters of FCA (Fellowship of Christian Athletes) hold events on their high school football fields. There is music, a local speaker giving a testimony, and a challenge to find faith in Jesus Christ.

S wanted to go. I wanted to go to Bunco. S wanted to invite a friend. I wanted to drink wine with my Bunco friends. Oh, that's easy, I thought. I'll just drop the two kids off and have my husband pick them up when it was over. But it didn't sound just right. I mean, two sixth graders in the midst of over a hundred people at the local football field? Sigh... I'll go too. I'll give up MY night. That's what we mothers do.

But oh how glad I am that I went. Of course S and his friend were not near me. They went over (within my sight, but without their knowledge!) and hung out with their friends. I saw my son and his friend singing their hearts out. I saw S lifting his hands in praise. I saw the two of them and other kids listening and taking in the testimony of a wonderful young woman who told of leaving her Sikh tradition and becoming a Christian.

S and his friend later came over to sit with me towards the end. He thanked me for being there on this "awesome night". It was a great night for me to be with my child. It was where I needed to be.

(Oh... and guess what? I got the date wrong. Bunco is NEXT week!)

Bevy

Sterling Tuesday's Kitchen Inspirations

No, I do not have a sterling silver teapot in my kitchen.  However, I came across The Lady in the Stone House by Tami when I was reading and leaving comments on sweet Eloise's blog.  Please lift Eloise's precious daughter, Vivian, in prayer.  She is extremely ill and in the PICU in their local hospital.

I do not know Tami.  However, what she wrote spoke volumes to me.  I hope you will take to heart this story.  Eloise is in the fire. And as I write this, I have many other friends who are in the fire. As Tami wrote, "Everyone has something, sometime when they have been in the fire. It's how you come out of the fire that matters."


Malachi 3:3 says: "He will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver"


This verse puzzled some women in a Bible study and they wondered what this statement meant about the character and nature of God.

One of the women offered to find out the process of refining silver and get back to the group at their next Bible study.

That week, the woman called a silversmith and made an appointment to watch him at work. She didn't mention anything about the reason for her interest beyond her curiosity about the process of refining silver.

As she watched the silversmith, he held a piece of silver over the fire and let it heat up. He explained that in refining silver, one needed to hold the silver in the middle of the fire where the flames were the hottest as to burn away all the impurities.

The woman thought about God holding us in such a hot spot; then she thought again about the verse that says: "He sits as a refiner and purifier of silver." She asked the silversmith if it was true that he had to sit there in front of the fire the whole time the silver was being refined.

The man answered yes, he not only had to sit there holding the silver, but he had to keep his eyes on the silver the entire time it was in the fire. If the silver was left a moment too long in the flames, it would be destroyed.

The woman was silent for a moment. Then she asked the silversmith, "How do you know when the silver is fully refined?"

He smiled at her and answered, "Oh, that's easy - when I see my image in it."

If today you are feeling the heat of the fire, remember that God has his eye on you and will keep watching you until He sees His image in you.

A Direct Message from Haiti

 Nannie Hester

I was forwarded this email from our church's partner mission, Christ Central.  Although I received it early this morning, it was written a few days ago.  I read it to my fourth graders this morning as we have been talking about the tragic devastation in Haiti.  I felt it was important for them to hear of the experience from someone who had done so first-hand.  I know this is pretty long.  However, I do ask that you read it all the way through. 

Haiti Friends,

This is a first hand account of the awful reality of being in the recent earthquake.  This is a testimony of that experience  from Melinda Hester who is a fulltime missionary to Haiti from Edisto Island, SC.

In His Service,

Donald C. Lyons
Haiti Under God
1135 Wesgate Road
Walterboro, SC 29488
(843)909-8076

Email from Nannie Hester

It had been a good day at the Medical Clinic, and we had seen over 130 patients. I am always the last one out, along with two of our Haitian employees who clean and prepare the building for the next day. Each time we leave, we laugh and joke, and I tell them, “Let’s go, we aren’t sleeping here tonight!” After lockin...g the back door, we began down the sidewalk beside the building on our way to the front gate. I was looking forward to walking my dog and then settling in to a good DVD movie with my cat napping on my lap. But before we could get to the street outside, the ground began shaking and trembling and heaved in horrifying and sickening waves. Screaming for my two friends, I tried to get away from the building and out the gate. Every time I attempted to stand, I was thrown to the ground. Sounds of concrete block breaking and tumbling, metal twisting and grinding, and glass shattering were deafening. It seemed to go on for an eternity, as I watched the columns of the covered seating area beside me literally dance back and forth. What was probably 30 seconds felt as if it was unending. Fear gripped me. As soon as that first shaking subsided enough to stand, I stumbled to my employees and we held on to each other and made our way out into the street. I stood, trying to catch my breath and overcome the intense trembling of my entire body, and watched cracks appear and radiate out over the roadbed. We managed to make our way into a nearby field of banana trees and lay down on the ground, along with others who had been in the street when it happened. Screams, prayers and pleas were all being made by each of us. When the trembling eased up enough to stand, I saw Teresa Price, our Physician’s Assistant at the clinic, running down the street to me, screaming, “Jim and Sandy are in their house and it fell down!” We raced around the corner to find the two-story apartment building was now only one story and was leaning toward one side. Terrified, we both ran to look for Dr. Jim Wilkins, our Medical Director, and his wife Sandy. It looked as if no one could have survived such devastation. Amazingly, we found them in the adjacent field, unharmed after they jumped from their porch balcony as the building went down. Shocks continued, and we all had to stop each time and sink to the ground until each one was over. Holding each other with relief, we were able to run to the remaining houses on the compound and find the other missionaries, all of whom were unharmed. I went to my house, a new apartment building, to try to save my dog and cat. Walls were cracked, and huge chunks of concrete block were gone. I could not get the front door open and stood helplessly, listening to my dog cry in terror. We all gathered in the yard of the Guest House, while the tremors continued. Afraid to enter any buildings, we tried to begin to form a plan, knowing that injured people would soon begin pouring in. We ran to the clinic, hoping to get supplies and medicines. We found our pharmacy and storage room destroyed, but the clinic itself was still mostly upright. Terrified to enter, but knowing the materials were needed, Dr. Wilkins and several others went in and quickly grabbed all they could so we could begin to help the wounded. We set up a temporary area in the Guest House yard, found a generator to power lights since darkness had descended, and began caring for the hundreds that came. The injuries were horrendous, with fathers holding young children who had deep lacerations to the bone, old people with broken arms, a woman with both feet broken at the ankles and one foot almost completely cut off. The pain and fear were deeply etched in their faces. While the ground continued to shake all night, we worked, setting broken bones, suturing huge punctures, and trying to save lives with the limited amount of materials we had. I delivered a baby, and then later found a father walking around holding his child. This toddler was cold to the touch and had died several hours earlier. The father was in such a state of shock that he didn’t even know it. Another child died in my arms. The ground was covered with blood. The smells will never be forgotten. Cries of pain and fear were heard all around. It was a surreal setting, almost unbelievable. I went back to the clinic that night, with others, to try to find more supplies. The building groaned and shuddered while we were inside. We worked through the night, and watched the sun come up over a land where all structures were either destroyed or damaged beyond repair. Four days have now passed since that terrible night, and we have finally had sleep and clean clothes. I was able to get into my house through a back door, and found my dog, passport and prescriptions. I could not find my cat, and I am certain she was crushed when large objects tumbled down. There was not time to take anything else, as the building groaned around me. I have lost everything, but thankfully escaped with my life. Food and water are scarce, as is gas and diesel for the generators. But our little band has worked on, and there are people trying to get to us and bring medical supplies. Cell phone service is down, but we are grateful for the satellite internet. It is our only contact with the world. We are told by others who come from Port-au-Prince that the city is a total loss, with bodies littering the streets. Looting has begun and we are sure an epidemic will break out with no way to dispose of the dead. We have found one of the small school buildings that we think is structurally sound, and plan to open the Medical Clinic in a few days. People are coming to the gate each day, begging for care. Our volunteer team is still here, since there are no flights out to the U.S. yet. I am fully convinced that God intends for us to rebuild Christianville, and we have begun working toward that goal. The Haitians depend on us for help. They have lost everything, and most families have at least one dead. The tremors are less often now, sometimes hours apart. We are sleeping outside, since we can’t know if another large one will come and destroy any building we stay in. In the midst of such horrific events, we are marching on, committed to the Haitian people and the work God has sent us to do. We ask for your prayers as Haiti begins the long and painful process of rebuilding. Donations can be made to Haiti Under God, 148 Tranquility Lane, Edisto Island, SC 29438. It is a non-profit 501(c) 3 organization, and all contributions are tax deductible. Feel free to e-mail me at haitinannie@hotmail.com.

Please know I am not pushing any specific mission or outreach.  Pray, and do what you feel called to do.   I just felt this email was too important not to share with you dear friends.