Great is his faithfulness

Lam 3:22 It is of the LORD'S mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not.
Lam 3:23 They are new every morning: great is thy faithfulness.

His mercies are new every morning. I remember when I first heard this scripture. I was still struggling to make sense of my husband bleeding to death in my arms. I was angry and confused. I remember praying that he would be okay; only to listen to him draw his last breath. I spent many sleepless night replaying that incident. I wanted it to have a different outcome, another ending. I wanted the nightmare to end. My stomach felt weak and heavy. I could not stop my mind from rehearsing the scene over and over. My heart was breaking in a million small pieces. Even in my altered mental state I know I needed Yeshua(Jesus)help.

I went one morning with a heavy heart to the small storefront congregation I started my walk with Yeshua. My eyes were swollen and blood shot from crying and lack of sleep. I'm still in shock several weeks later. The heaviness refuses to leave my belly. Heartbreak is the most intense pain you can ever feel; it goes from your heart to your belly and lay there, heavy and relentless. There is no relieve from heartache. I tried everything, tears, screaming, drugs and quiet insanity, nothing dulled the pain.

I got up for prayer. I didn't ask for any certain prayer to be prayed for me. The pastor told me to start praising God. It's hard to find a praise when you're covered in a blanket of darkness, but I started praising with all I had. It was like I was the only person in the room. I started praising God with all I had. I praised him with all my heaviness, I praised him with all the darkness, I praised him with all my heartache, I praised him with all my pain. I praised him with my screams, I praised him with my tears. I hit my knees and gave him all of my faults and failures.

I don't know if if scriptural to give your sad little heart to God or not. I like to believe it is. I know after that night the heaviness lifted was gone the pain was more bearable. I slept that night for the first time in weeks. I read that scripture shortly after that.

I often think about that morning, his tender mercies wrapping me like a warm blanket, his faithfulness covering me, his heart breaking for me. His love never fails in in your greatest trials.

Fearless

Wisdom

Pro 3:15 Wisdom is more valuable than precious jewels; nothing you want compares with her.

I don't know about anyone else, but I know I want a lot of things. I want to be rich, thin, beautiful, young and married would be nice. I'm not any of those things. I'm poor, slightly overweight, average looking, older and single. I have desires that were never fulfilled. I have dreams that never came to pass, but I have wisdom.

Some of the wisdom has come with age and experience; those came with a high price tag. I have made many bad choices and cried myself to sleep more then I care to remember. I lived foolishly for many years. I dwelt in the upmost parts of hell. I have wished for death but was afraid to die.

True wisdom came only when I stopped running from Jesus. I remember when the realization came to me. I lay naked except for a paper gown in a room that was padded in soft but smelly rubber. I had made an half hearted attempt at sliting my wrist. I say half hearted because truly I wanted help more then I wanted to die. It took eight big burly guards to hold me down and strip me. I fought with everything I had left inside of me which wasn't much. I had walked away from Jesus. I started doing drugs on a full scale bases.

My life had lost all meaning, I was only existing. I thought God must surely hate me now. I hated myself. Sometimes we create God in our own image. We make him petty and self-centered, unloving and judgmental. I had no self-esteem or self-worth and my little god had no use for me. I saw through a cracked and distorted mirror and I thought God peeked into that same broken glass.

I went into the store and looked into a camera and stole something on purpose. The security asked me one question, "Why?" All I could do is tell him it was because I wanted someone to help me. Later that night I made my cry for help. I was tired of holding on to the guilt I felt after my husband murder. If I was not such a horrible person, he would still be alive. I was tired of living with the shame of being raped as a teen-ager. I took the fault for that one too. Guilt and shame hung off of me like a cheap suit. Unworthiness was my constant companion. Grace followed me into that padded room, that's the strange thing about grace there's no where it will not go to find you.

I laid in that padded cell and cried to my Abba. I begged him to help me. I asked him what was wrong with me? What was so broke inside of me that I would walk away from his love. I remembered that girl that he found covered in the filth of her sins. He didn't judge me or condemn me. He picked me up, washed me clean. He covered me with his love. I knew back then what I had forgotten. God loves me! He loved me and I walked away.

I cried and asked for forgiveness, I asked for healing, I asked for wisdom. I asked him to accept me back and clean me up again. I asked for a sign that he forgives me, that he heard my prayers. I promised not to run from what he asked me to do. He said, tell my people about me. He simply asked me to tell the truth.

The bible says the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom. I do fear him. I fear that he will take his spirit from me. That if I'm foolish enough to walk way again that I wont make it back to him. I fear he will talk stop talking to me. I fear the fact that without him life is not worth living. Without him is truly death. I fear of being separated from him eternally.

The next morning I woke to a woman standing over me with a bible in her hand. I knew at that moment all the pain and heartache, unworthiness was over. It's been a long hard road but, he healed me, delivered me, gave me the wisdom and self-worth to make better decisions. He set me free!

I love him so much because he first loved me.

Fearless

The Restaurant

The Restaurant opened yesterday. To my surprise I was asked to help for a few days; since the young cashier did not show up for her first day of work. My first day and first time using a cash register went quite well. I was not the older extremely slow woman on the cash register. I am the older woman that looks as if she know whats she's doing, but of course I don't have a clue. My only saving grace is the fact that I prayed before I started which is always my saving grace.

I took orders, bagged food,answered the phone, smiled gracefully and even busted a few tables. I made a three dollar tip(from my brother in law's brother). I actually had a good time and met many nice people.

I like the ideal of having a ministry of helps. I can be a do anything, help everybody person. Just a few months ago my sister Jill told our friends in Florida that I have always been selfish. A couple of them said it to me. I remember how sad I felt that Jill would say that about me and they would say it to me. I cried and searched my heart. I asked myself have I truly been selfish? And if it's true, then why?

I want to be known as an honorable woman that loves God. I asked them what did I do to be considered so selfish. I don't want to do that again. I wanted to pray and repent and asked for forgiveness to everyone I have hurt, or overlooked. The answer was that I am always talking about love and wanting everyone to love me. I guess I can see if I'm always looking to be loved that could actually be a problem. People that want to be loved can be clingy and needy, and are even willing to compromise. So I asked if that the problem. Jill finally answered, she said that I have always been the favorite of my mother and father. That I got all the attention.

In a way I guess what she said is true. As a child I did demand a lot of attention. I was a quiet, withdrawn third child of nine. Most days I felt just as invisible as Jill apparently felt. Jill got her attention by doing things that got her in trouble; I got mine by trying to be perfect. I made the honor roll every semester, I spent way too much time working on being perfect. I took the family responsibility on my tiny shoulders. I thought if I was perfect and worked to make my siblings and parents perfect that we would be acceptable and accepted,that no one would continue to address us as, "All of Trisha's kids and her dopefiend husband." I did want to be loved but love was hard to obtain when you're little and unimportant and from a family that's socially rejected.

It was not until I met Yeshua (Jesus) That I felt as if I belonged. He knows my pain and understood. He was despised and rejected of men. A man of sorrow and acquainted with grief: and we hid as it were our faces from him, he was despised and we esteemed him not. I am in good company!

Fearless

The Cold Case Crazies.

It is true! The mind really is a terrible thing to waste. Not only is it a terrible thing to waste it's full of dramatic crazies. Or at least mine is. Yesterday me , my mother and my sister Karen went to the mall then out to lunch and from the restaurant we went back to my sisters house. I had made a mistake(or not) and overate. Over-eating for me makes me uncomfortable. So when we got back to my sister house I went to sleep. I slept for a couple of hours by mistake(or not).

My bother in law is opening a restaurant next week and asked me to be his interior decorator. I like colors and textures and spending others people's money so I said, "Yes." I had a great time in the last few weeks, picking themes, colors, designs, frames, etc. Since the walls are all different colors I let my imagination go vagabond. Everyone around loved my ideas.

Well, yesterday evening after I finally woke up still a little food groggily. My bother-in-law Alvin asked me if I was ready to go work on my "project." At first I said, "NO" but I felt bad that I made the commitment and did the easy part (shopped) and had not gotten around to actually doing the work. Very reluctantly I agree to go and do the work. Did I mention I am doing it for free?

We go to his newly leased building with wall art, theme supplies, tool box, three miniature terriers named Cody, Bella,and JoJo. As we pull up there is a car with the flashers on and Alvin says he wonders why that car has been there all day; he knows it belongs to a white lady that either lives or works near by because he sees her often. We go into the building still unsure.

Alvin is in the kitchen doing some last minute paint touch up and cleaning while I'm in the dining area working. I decided I should start by hanging the pictures. He hands me an hand held electrical drill some screws and brackets than he walks back into the kitchen. I have never in my life used a electric drill and it looks as if it would drill holes in my fingers. I would usually hire someone to do anything that required any tools beside a hammer or Phillips screw-driver. I stand where he left me armed and dangerous, wondering what I was suppose to do. So I call to Alvin and say, "Alvin, I never used a drill before." He comes back into the dining area and shows me how it works and it looked easy enough, but alias, I have yet another problem. I'm in desperate need of a measuring tape. There's nothing worse to the eye than a crooked frame. Then the unthinkable happens...

Alvin walks out the door with Bella, Cody and Jojo following behind him. He tells me to lock the door. I ask where he's going and he says he's going to his friends house up the street to borrow a measuring tape. It's about 10:00 at night and his restaurant is located in a business area and it's dark and spooky 10:00 at night. I lock the door and that's when the whole diabolical plot registers in my brain. Alvin must have some kind of secret insurance policy and he's setting me up to be murdered. First he hands me the drill, a weapon of mass destruction in my hands, then he leaves me alone in a empty restaurant awaiting the hired killers. Or worse he's really did want to get a measuring tape but the kidnappers of the white woman whose car is left on the side of the road is still in the vicinity and they watched as Alvin left me alone, now I will be their next victim. Me and the white woman sisters victims fighting together, dying together in a blood bath and my finger would have holes drilled in them (From my attempt at using a drill). I hear the voice of Bill Kurtis as they air the story of our demise on Cold Case Files. "And the case goes cold," he'll say in his all to familiar voice.

By this time my mind is in a complete panic, I call my sister and whine. "Alvin left me all alone in this empty building and he even took the dogs. You know I watched Cold Case Files." She asked me one simple question, "Why didn't you go with him?" I didn't know what to say to her. Should I tell her because he handed me a drill and at the time I was more worried about my fingers? And now I have the Cold Case Crazies? So I ignored the question and continued whining, "I came here to help him and he just left me." She said what any other big sister would say, just make sure the doors are locked. I knew she would call him and tell him to get back to me...and she did just that.

Five minutes later I heard him pull up. He came right back without a measuring tape. He said he told my sister he had to get back to me since I was so afraid someone would rob me (I let him believe that, I see no reason he should know about the Cold Case Crazies). He also said Karen and I were the scariest women he knew and we loved the Lord so much yet were afraid to die to be with him. I told him I'm not afraid of dying, if I were I wouldn't be learning how to use a drill.

I did get the decorating almost completed and it looks really good for an amateur. I find out that my white sister victim is only the victim of car trouble. And all is well. I have swore off of Cold Case Files for now or I will have to change my name from...

Fearless

The Shrew!!

Okay, it's official I can't do anything right! As hard as I have tried to please my mommy I can't do it. I have been in Chattanooga for two weeks nursing my mother (who's sick from mold and unable to breath) and my oldest sister (who had back surgery). I get up early every morning and cut up fresh fruit, cook bacon and eggs or whatever they desire. Only to be told the fruit isn't sweet, the bacon to hard, the eggs too cold, etc, etc by my mother.

For a week straight I listened to her complain and waited on her as any dutiful daughter would do. There's nothing particularly self-sacrificing or honorable in serving your family when the need arrive. You do it because you love them. I however have been living alone for many years and have all but forgotten how to serve anyone else. My life has been simple, there has been no relationship that I had to post, "It's complicated," about. There is no husband or boyfriend not even a pet dog. I spent my days dreaming of remote villages in Africa where I would start and orphanage. In my dreams I'm always the selfless woman of God, fighting for the rights and freedom of the down-trodden. I'm the provider of love, the hero that saves the day.

Boy, am I full of delusions. It's strange how who we are and who we see ourselves as, are always at odds with each other. I'm not a injustice fighting hero. I'm a dreamer! I'm not selfless, I'm mostly selfish. I can't save the world, I'm working out my own soul salvation with true fear and trembling.

I made my mom a cup of tea this morning and she complained that I drink large cups of coffee and give her small cups of tea. I wasn't trying to deprive her of tea. Over the years I have sipped tea from tiny delicate china tea cups and drank coffee from mugs. My mother has had to sacrifice so much for her nine children. She has had to drink her tea in jelly jars or plastic cups. There was no delicate china for her or fancy church-lady teas with big hats, great manners and fake grins. It hasn't been an easy life for my mother. It's been only disappointment, faded dreams, hopes, pain and misery. If you want to know what happens to dreams deferred, look into an elderly black woman's eyes.

My mother's complaint in her eyes is legitimate. I, however must be the worse shrew God ever put breath into. I can't believe my actions after she made that one small assessment. I asked her if there was anything I could possible do right. Than I asked her if she could show just a little gratitude. I stormed out of the back door and sit alone of the balcony and cried. I am so ashamed of my actions. This week has taught me that I am human and very limited. I could never be a saint because being human is hard enough. I must rely on God for everything, even the grace to honor my mother.

Fearless

In The Waiting

It's been over a year since Yeshua (Jesus) took me off my job. Over a year of endless waiting for my life to begin; or this useless feeling to end. As hard as I try to feel some sort of sense of self-worth, dignity or pride nothing is forthcoming. I remember my grandma used to say she was stuck between a rock and a hard place. I wonder if this is the place she was talking about. I have not made a contribution to anyone. Two years ago the Lord told me to learn how to "Be" and he would "Do." I went on a quest to learn how to be, the problem was I had no idea what it was I was to be. I asked everyone that mentioned the Lord and "Be" in the same paragraph. Some said for me to "Be," myself others thought it meant "Be" still and some like me did not have a clue. Than one Saturday morning after only six months of soul searching Yeshua told me what it was I was to "Be." He said "Be"...loved. Yes, my beloved just want me to learn to be loved and only in that being could there ever be any doing. I must "Be" and he will "Do."Once again he's teaching me deep truth about ministry. I have to wait until I have something to give. There is a reservoir of grace that's big and bright. Like the apostle Paul I am blinded by that light and my own self-righteousness. I'm learning to let go of all that I think I have to offer to the ministry and become an empty vessels.

Every step I take has to be in total obedience to the Holy Spirit. I have nothing to give except my body as a living sacrifice and it must be holy and acceptable. I have learned in my waiting that I have been the problem and not the solution, the hold up of the ministry. Me in all my inability wanting some kind of control. Maybe even some vain glory. I have nothing to offer the world except what I have learned in my years of being that broken but much loved vessel. Like the children of Israel he passed by me and saw me polluted in my own blood and he said to me to live. It's only in that life that I can give life; that a ministry can birth and bring forth life. It's only in the receiving that I have anything to give.

I wait..

Fearless