Different with a Purpose

But ye are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, an holy nation, a peculiar people;
that ye should shew forth the praises of him who hath called you out of darkness into his marvellous light;

1 Peter 2:9

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I live in a city where people are suspicious of those who are different.

It is churched people that I speak of.

But as a child of God; am I not called to be different?

I declare – for He declares that I am.

I stand as a peculiar person to many.

Proudly.  Gladly.

Peculiar means atypical; uncharacteristic; strange; even weird.

However I am different with a purpose.

The purpose is to call attention to He

whom has brought me from darkness into His light.

I may not do or say the things that make you comfortable.

Did Jesus?

I may not do or say things that ring familiar to you.

Did Paul the Apostle?

He who called me also said “Try the spirit” ….

Use the formula He has given in His word.

Mary, the mother of Christ dared to be different;

in spite of ridicule

and changed the whole world.

Rehab, a harlot, defied a king and saved a nation.

Rebecca and Ruth left all that was familiar

and married into wealth.

Believing is different but with purpose.

I can promise you the end result of

different with a purpose will be love.

For God is Love.

If you need different in your life try God and live with purpose.

I am different.  Glady.  With purpose…

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That purpose is love.

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My Pillow

 Beloved, if our heart condemn us not, then have we confidence toward God.

1 John 3:21

Eleven years of consecration

For me, it was as natural and as right as breathing.

Something I was suppose to do.

With you.  Only.

Coy preliminary games were not necessary.

Not because I am grown and I can do what I want to do. That is true.

I never wanted to.

Until you.  Until it was right.

And it was right for me.

After eleven years.

It was right because it was you.

My pillow.

Eleven years of waiting. For you.

Disqualifies any label.

Your are pillow.

That made it right.

I miss my pillow.

Christmas – A Legacy of Love

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Remember our Christmas brunch at my house?  Andre and I prepared a full course breakfast and served you.  We stood in a circle and held hands.

We made a birthday cake for Jesus and spoke of our blessings remembering the reason for the season. I found gifts at the dollar store and wrapped them so pretty so that of those who had graced our home, none would leave empty-handed.

The eldest among us, would bestow blessings upon us.

We always had the most beautiful Christmas tree, whether we spray painted pine cones or bought ornaments at the store.

One year, Son Son and I stapled lights to a cross we had made of 4 ft boards and erected it in the front yard to remind those passing by that we were a family that observed God’s gift to the world.

Life has driven our family to different parts of the world but it does not alter the legacy of love we have been given.

Wherever we are, among family or friends, alone or together, we are made greater by the memories of love we have shared.

Hold them in your heart.  Never let them go.

Pass it on.

Never forget who you are and of whom you are.

My daughter, my son…you have been given a legacy of love.

Pass it on.

Lovers of the God We Serve.


Of all my accomplishments my greatest by far, is being mother of two very different but amazing children.  It is both a joy and a privilege to answer the phone and one of the two is on the other end.

My daughter is vibrant and colorful. She fills a room with her personality.  Her conversation is stimulating and diverse.  She is also serious, business minded and opinionated.  She is caring and kind insightful, and discerning.  I can never close a conversation with her without reflecting on a poignant thought she has shared on whatever subject we discuss.  I can never anticipate what the conversation will be about when she calls or what direction it might take but I know that it will always end in prayer.

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My son is and always has been a barometer for me; not as a measurement of atmospheric pressure but of life.  As a child, his interests varied, daily.  He would wake with a smile ready to explore the possibilities of the day.  His excitement was contagious and through his eyes, I rediscovered the joy of life’s simplicity. It was innocent and sweet and perfect.  And I so wanted to protect this beautiful part of him.  But life has a way of eroding the simple heart of a child although it is our most precious commodity.

So I watched him grow into the man he has become and I am so proud.  He has allowed me to, not only witness his evolution, but share it with me; am I not the most blessed of woman?

His conversation has changed over the years as he continues to explore life but his character remains intact.  He is easy-going and laid back, introspective and intelligent.  He too is business minded with excellent reasoning powers. He walks as a man among men.  Not arrogantly but with a certain confidence that I have always known to be born of the spirit of God.

This is our conversation now, his discovery of the God in him.

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There is no greater joy for a mother than to witness her children become lovers of the God we serve.

And all thy children shall be taught of the Lord; and great shall be the peace of thy children.

Isaiah 54:13

For Pillow

A woman will relinquish her power for intimacy;

When the intimacy is withheld

She reclaims her power

Given a choice, 

She would rather have intimacy

I  MISS MY PILLOW

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I Need a Helping Hand

 
Wherefore also we pray always for you,
that our God would count you worthy of this calling,
and fulfil all the good pleasure of his goodness,
and the work of faith with power:
That the name of our Lord Jesus Christ may be glorified in you,
and ye in him,
according to the grace of our God and the Lord Jesus Christ.
 
2 Thessalonians 1 11-12

 

Who among us is worthy?

Are we not all sinners but for the grace of God?

Do we not all hold on to our little secret desires and fleshly wants?

If we are sinners, if we are covetous, tell “small lies”, occasionally utter a curse word, manipulate others, and speak of the faults of our neighbors; who is worthy of the calling of God?

Who among us is capable of fulfilling the pleasure of His goodness?

Not me.

Not me; but for His grace.

Through faith I receive His power to accomplish His work.

Through faith, with grace, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ

I pray that God may be glorified in me.

But I need your prayers.

Always.

I need a helping hand.

Pray for me.

Always.

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Reconnect to the Source

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I am a fixer.  I fix things and I fix people.  I am the one that finds solutions to problems so that others don’t have to.

A fixer is a caretaker.  We care for and fix things for everyone in our circle of influence.  We are the ones that are up at 2 and 3 in the morning interceding for others.  We are the ones that get out of bed at 1 am to go the hospitals. We fix the meals for the homeless.  We take care of men, children, dogs, cats, fish, birds and turtles.  We are servants.

Who fixes the fixer when the fixer is broken?  When there are too many things that need fixing that all the fixing that needs to be fixed cannot be fixed by the fixer.

Short answer?  Christ.

No brainer right?

That’s who I have relied on in the past and whom I must turn to now to fix me so that I can continue to be the fixer of people and things. I know this both in my head and more importantly in my heart.  I have lived my life running to Jesus.

I am a single parent, Christ was all I had.  Christ was sufficient for me.  Yet when I needed to feel the physical representation of Christ, I would reach for the hand of my precious young son.  Holding his hand for a moment rejuvenated and strengthened me.  I knew I could not fail in whatever endeavor I had to face.  I would succeed.  When I needed prayer, I would solicit the pure innocent prayers of my young daughter.  I knew that even if Christ would not respond to my petitions, we would honor the simple petitions of a child.

My children are grown now; they live their own lives far from me.  This is how it should be.   They are good people.  I am blessed.

Yet, as a fixer, a caretaker, there are times when I feel separated from Christ as I do right now.  Overwhelmed, alone, and empty.  It seems that I have nothing left to give because I am an empty vessel.   Who will pray for me?  Who will hold my hand?

When my system of support is removed for whatever reason;  I have to find a way to reconnect.

I must do this quickly.

For me to live independent of Christ is to invite disaster.  It means that the problems that I can fix through Christ cannot be fixed through me.  It means that the burdens of others Christ holds me responsible for and those of my own, I am left to carry on my own slender shoulders.

I cannot.   I was not meant to.  I was created for relationship with Christ.

I of myself am nothing.  I of myself can do nothing.

I must reconnect to the source.  By any means necessary, I must reestablish my relationship with my source. Whether or not any one else is here to stand with or for me, I must reconnect to the source.

My source is Christ.

Help me Lord.

 

Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful.
 But his delight is in the law of the Lord; and in his law doth he meditate day and night.
And he shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth his fruit in his season; his leaf also shall not wither; and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper.
Psalms 1  1:3

A Gift

Did I tell you I am the most blessed of women? 

Believe it.

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I am excited about the newness of this day. 

It’s better than opening a Christmas present. 

I don’t know what the day will bring…

what I know and therein lays my joy….

is that it is a gift. 

What I know and herein lies my joy…

is that only someone who cares for me…

will present me with a gift.

Who gives the gift of this day?

Someone who loves me.

Thank you Jesus!!!!!

The Difference is Christ

A big man in a jogging suit was in the cashier’s line ahead of me.  He turned toward me and smiling from ear to ear, grabbed the pack of cookies he intended to purchase from the counter and told me to go before him.  This he did while making remarks about my appearance.  Now I know there was nothing remarkable about my appearance, but to listen to this man’s comments, he had encountered Miss America.  His compliments were diverse and many and tasteful so I politely thanked him, and without another thought proceeded to handle the matter before me.

As I was leaving the store, he rushed ahead to open the door for me.   As he did so I noticed his hands on the door.  They were huge.  I remember thinking they were the hands of a fighting man.  I was right.

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Holding the door and in the time it took me to walk out the door, he proceeded to tell me all about himself.  He spoke with urgency as if it were of the utmost importance to convince me of who he was.  He stated he was a professional fighter, a good man and not married.  He told me his age and where he trained and where he lived.  He told me he had a fight coming up this week in Memphis.  He also told me he had fought last week and won enough money to last through the winter.  Finally he asked me to come to Memphis to watch him fight.

Politely, I declined the offer, walking past him, I told him to be careful.  Something seemed to break inside of him when I said that.

Standing there in front of the store, he told me of how he asked Jesus to protect him each time he walked into the ring. He told me that someday, he hoped to make Him proud.

He asked me if I would pray for him.

Right there on the sidewalk, this big man knelt down at my feet.  I took his hand and began to pray. With people rushing past, this big man with huge hands knelt; head bowed and received my prayers to God for him.

Standing, seemingly unashamed, with tears running down his face, this giant of a man thanked me. He apologized to me for the initial way he had approached me and acknowledged that he knew there was something different about me.

What he did not know and what he soon discovered is that the difference is Christ.

I will never know why he needed prayer.  I don’t need to know.  I know the One who knows.

What I do know is the difference in us can make all the difference to someone else.   Through Christ.

We do not always know the “what or the why”; we just need to have the will to do the works of Christ.

Anytime, anyplace, anywhere and for whomever He sends.

My Utmost For His Highest

Mirror Mirror on the Wall

Love places, someone else 
in the centre of your being 
and your own self is blurred

Mohsin Hamid

Father as you send me forth on this remarkable journey, help me to be so humble, that any semblance of sanctimonious self righteousness, dissipate in repentance.  

Hold  the mirror of your choice always before me so I can see the flaws in my character that I might immediately ask for and receive your forgiveness. 

I choose to be your perfect ideal of this woman you call Eve.  But without you, I am nothing.

Philippians 4:13

I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.

Philippians 3:9

And be found in him, not having mine ownrighteousness, which is of the law, but that which is through the faith of Christ, the righteousness which is of God by faith:

Imagine When Love Calls

Each morning I wake with a smile 

Content with each kiss  

Holding me close he slides inside  

Slowly…so gently

So loving

With each movement I know a greater love

Perfection 

Kept by a higher power

I know to whom I belong

I am content

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I am content…

He entered my heart unexpectedly with such simple acts of kindness….

United by an invisible power

One or two spoken words penetrate my soul, calm my emotions, and center my spirit

He captured my mind and without a single touch,

with just the strength of his spirit, my body followed

        Now I know to whom I belong

 I am a content woman…kept by the power of God.

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The words of our soul are not easily translated into a language as we know it. There are spiritual matters that can only be shared or discerned spirit to spirit. There are things that you cannot speak of, or reduce to  a language understood by others until Christ has healed the pain your heart carries.   I believe I can do this now.  I believe I can speak on the months preceding my mother’s death now.  I have carried the weight of this time and mother’s suffering within my heart for a long time speaking only to Jesus about it.  Now it is time.

Momma was dying.  I was eight hundred miles away  but God told me so.   He woke me before dawn; seven times I would rise from bed, fall to my knees and raise my hands to God sobbing from the depth of my soul in unmentionable grief.  For seven days He spoke to me of Momma’s impending death. I begged Him not to take my Momma.  When that did not work, I became angry and I yelled at Him. When that did not work, I tried to bargain with Him, telling Him all that I would relinquish if only He would not take my Momma from me.  Stomping through each room of the big single level house I had bought specifically with her in mind, I yelled at God. Each day I would end up in the lovely bedroom I had furnished just for her, exhausted, from my antics, I would lay on her bed hugging her pillow tightly.  The bed that she would only spend one week in, the bed I would not let another soul to sleep in, there I would lie and quietly ask for His forgiveness for my performance.   

wasn’t ready for her to go.  I wasn’t the best of daughters. She wanted so much for me and I had disappointed her so many times with the foolish choices I had made with my life.  I knew she was the only earthly rock I had and I needed time.  I needed time to make up for my foolishness and my selfishness.  I needed time to show her I really and truly was a daughter she could be proud of.  Most of all I simply could not envision life without her in my world.  If there was anything good in me, if truth be told, it was because of her.

Even as a child, God would reveal things to come to me.  I knew Momma’s death was imminent.  He had revealed  the death of my best friend’s mother to me at the age of fourteen, and that’s when  I  told Him I  did not want to see these things anymore and He honored my request for a time.  Now He was preparing me to give my Momma to Him.

Each morning thereafter, not knowing what else to do, not having anyone to share my visions or my feelings with, I would head to the park and run around the track that circled the lake.   I did not want to think about Momma leaving me so I ran faster and faster, trying to erase the memory of what lie ahead.

Eventually, gently He told me to stop running; to walk.  He told me that I had a long journey ahead of me.  He told me to slow down and observe the signs along the way that would direct my path.

There were directional signs all along track – “stop, slow down, cross here, don’t throw trash, pick up litter” – I paid little attention to these signs until I began to walk instead of run around the track.  God showed me that just as there were signs providing directions at key places around the track, He would provide the directions for me on this journey I would take.  He told me to walk and not run.  He told me to take my time that I would arrive at my destination whether I ran or walked but that going slowly, patiently; He would show me the way.

There were many geese and ducks that made the lake their home, but one day, God pointed out a single solitary duck.  This duck was gliding along slowly, easily, so effortlessly, moving through the water so peacefully, so gently.  Through the water however, when I looked closely,  just beneath the surface, I saw the duck’s feet moving rapidly, propelling him forward, belying what I saw on the surface.  God told me that He would be the propeller under the surface, holding me up, moving me forward on my journey.  God showed me my journey would be just as peaceful and effortless as was this solitary duck.

With this vision, I began to prepare to let Momma go.  I knew I would not be alone.

I am a kept woman. 

I am kept by a power you cannot see unless you look carefully.

This I know.

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Zechariah 4:6
Then he answered and spake unto me, saying, This is the word of the Lord unto Zerubbabel, saying, Not by might, nor by power, but by my spirit, saith the Lord of hosts.