What You Don’t See Matters

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Several years ago, back when I was a substitute teacher at the local high school, I had a student in class who would always come in late. He would lay his head down on his desk with his hood pulled over his head and sleep. He was never rude to me. In fact, he was very polite. However, he would still ignore my pleas to pay attention and do his work. One day, I mentioned this to one of the staff hoping to gain some guidance and her response was, “Oh, yeah, he’s a slacker. Just a stoner. He’s got a messed up home life. Just overlook him. We are just hoping he can make it to graduation.” I kid you not! Those were her words verbatim. Being a once misunderstood teenager myself back in the day, I couldn’t just “overlook him”. I was so bothered by her statement that I slipped off into the office bathroom and cried in the dark. It crushed my heart.

All I could do was pray…

It was a week night. Not sure which one. Does that part even matter? Hold on, we shall find out later. Our oldest son was having a great deal of stomach pain. I gave my best motherly advice, “Go poop.” He did and that just and it made it hurt worse. As the evening dragged on, his symptoms became more intense and a fever crept in. Concerned that it might be his appendix, our oldest daughter and I took him to the emergency room while my husband stayed home with our two younger children. We spent several hours waiting for him to be seen by a doctor, then we waited a while longer for him to get an ultra-sound which led to waiting a little longer still on results. Fortunately, the results from tests and ultra-sound showed nothing really out of the ordinary and he was diagnosed with gastritis. He was given something to help ease his pain and lower his temperature and then sent home with some dietary instructions and a prescription for bacterial infection. By that time it was very late. We had skipped dinner earlier that evening.

We were tired and hungry.

Shreveport can be pretty sketchy after midnight. Okay, pretty much anytime these days. Also, there aren’t many decent places near the hospital to grab food that late. Add to that, we lived several miles outside of town where, at that time, we had no local restaurants and the gas stations closed up around 9:00 pm. We were thrilled to see that the Taco Bell drive-thru was open. Our son was not hungry for obvious reasons. He curled up in the back seat and went to sleep. We pulled up to the menu and looked it over as if we were going to order something different from the bazillion other times we had gone there. We placed our order and then proceeded to drive up to the window. It was around 1:15 am. I just wanted to get our food, eat on the way home, and go to bed. I had agreed to substitute at the school the next morning and I was already dreading how tired I was going to be and how long the day was ahead of me after what would be only a few hours of precious sleep. That’s when I heard the most excited voice coming from the other side of the drive-thru window shouting a long drawn out, “Mrs. Kuuuuuuntz!” There in the window with the biggest smile on his face was the sleepy “slacker” and “stoner” I had been told to “overlook”. We had a very short conversation. In that little moment, I learned a lot more about that young man that most of his teachers had in years. Oh, had they only taken the time to ask questions. If only I had. He wasn’t a slacker and he wasn’t stoned! He was just tired!! What we didn’t see was a hardworking young man and that matters.

There was so much more to this young man’s story.

The next day at school, I was assigned to the same Algebra class where I had first met the “tired” student. Being rather consistent, he walked in late, went to his desk, pulled his hood over his head and attempted to sleep. But this time I knew why he was late, so I didn’t get on to him. After the class settled down with their assignments, I walked back to his desk as few of the other students ‘oooo’d‘ thinking that I was about to send him “down the hall”. Instead, I tapped him on the shoulder and told him that if he would take 15 minutes to complete the assignment sheet, he could go to sleep without being disturbed the remainder of the class. His eyes lit up and he smiled. I told him that even young people get tired. He thanked me, took the assignment sheet, did the work -correctly I might add- and then pulled his hood over his head and went to sleep. From that point on, we did this routine every time I subbed that class.

But wait, there’s more!. Stay with me, now, this is good stuff!

The next year, I was standing in the school hallway in between the library and the breakroom waiting for someone to bring the elusive breakroom key that was not privy to lowly substitutes like myself. As I stood there patiently waiting, I noticed two female students a little ways down the hall having what appeared to be a pretty intense conversation. Ones of the girls walked away while the other stayed behind and started crying. Anyone who knows me knows exactly what happened next. I walked over and asked her if I could hug her. Yes, I knew that was against the rules. No, I didn’t care.

A crying female almost always needs a motherly hug.

I didn’t ask any other questions right way, but rather I proceeded to break another rule. I told her that God loved her and that He had a plan for her life. Then, I offered to pray for her. She pulled back, sheepishly smiled and shared a small piece of her story. She explained how she had just checked in late and received detention for excessive tardies. Not sure the reason for the previous tardies, but this particular time, she was late because the family car would not start. This latest tardy earned her a Saturday detention. She was really upset about it. You see, her dad had lost his job the year before and had been financially struggling to provide ever since. He would work odd jobs to keep the bills paid and even her brother worked to help the family stay afloat. Add to that difficult challenge, family had only the one shared vehicle. What little money they had would be needed to fix the car. In addition, he had a job to be at that Saturday and didn’t have the time nor the means to get his daughter to detention. Naturally, I offered to take her.

What happened next was truly a God moment. A reminder of Divine Appointments.

As she started to walk away, she paused and looked back. She said, “You’re that sub my brother told me about last year. You looked for him. He said that you were really cool and that you had his back.” Completely flattered, I asked who her brother was. Have you guessed yet?

Fast Forward

Years later, our youngest son is now the student who is often tardy to school because it’s a struggle to get out of bed every morning. Unlike the students’ in the story, he doesn’t have to work to help out the family finances. He chooses to work. He has been like that his entire life. He worked a very tough job this past summer and was able to save up and buy the truck he is now driving. I should mention that he had mono during this whole time making that tough job even tougher. He pays for his own gas and he uses his own money to fix up his truck or to go eat with his friends. He gets up each morning, gets ready, takes care of the dogs on the three mornings his dad is out of town working, and then he goes to school. After school, he goes home, checks on the dogs, changes clothes, grabs a bite to eat, then heads off to his job. Depending on that night’s schedule, he returns home around 10:30-11:30 pm, gives me a hug, gets the dogs (they sleep with him), hits up social media one more time, then goes to bed, only to start the whole process over again the next day. He requested as many hours as they would give him because he wants to fix his truck up real nice. If you work in the school office or are one of his teachers, you might not know that about him. You might think that he is a “slacker” or a “stoner”, or “spoiled”. He’s not. (Okay, maybe just a little spoiled. But in a good way, not rotten). He is a hardworking, determined young man who does his work behind the scenes.

This week, the Bible study group that I am in is studying about Jehosheba. (“Faithful” -by twelve contributing authors) Her short story is found in 2 Kings 11:2. Like a town with only one stop sign, there is much to see here, but if you blink, you’ll miss it. Here, let me show you what the New International Version Bible says:

But Jehosheba, the daughter of King Jehoram and sister of Ahaziah, took Joash son of Ahaziah and stole him away from among the royal princes, who were about to be murdered. She put him and his nurse in a bedroom to hide him from Athaliah; so he was not killed. 2 Kings 11:2

So, here’s the gist of this significantly huge short story found snuggled in 2 Kings 11. Jehosheba’s stepmom was married to her daddy, Jehoram, the king. Jehosheba’s mother was Zibiah in the lineage of Judah. Athalia lost her ever-loving mind when her son, Ahaziah died. In a fit of rage she ordered all the royal sons be put to death. Jehosheba and Ahaziah shared the same baby daddy, so that made his son, Joash, her nephew and the grandson of the crazy grand-mammy. Jehosheba takes her nephew and his nurse and hides them to spare their lives. Six years later, a high priest named Jehoida gets wind of this and, along with a team of guards, helps get the rightful and very young heir to the throne, back to where he belonged, and Athalia is killed. Seriously, how bad is your family really? What she did in secret helped save an entire bloodline that would one day lead to Christ Jesus himself! That’s her story. Oh, and Joash went on to have a son named Gideon.

One little verse of recognition, one ginormous story!

Why is her story significant to mine? Because there was not big production, no social media worthy comments or pics, but what she did was absolutely huge even though most might overlook that little nugget of history about the line (and soon coming Lion) of Judah. What seemed like a simple act of courage was really quite impactful on so many others.

Every thing we do will either lead us and others to Christ or away

There are so many people around us every day who do so much more than you see on the surface. They don’t advertise or draw attention to themselves. They don’t post their every move on social media. They just do what they feel led to do. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t give praise reports or offer testimonies to bring about awareness and change. It also doesn’t mean that there is anything wrong with sharing your life’s snapshots on social media. Just be mindful and compassionate, not boastful or attention seeking. Be discerning, yet slow to judge.

What you don’t see matters!

Now, go do what you know is right even when others can’t see you doing it.

For further study and insight, check out 2 Kings 10:11, Judges 6-7, Isaiah 40:30-31, Jeremiah 29:11, Matthew 6, Proverbs 9:17

Broken Seashells

The beach is one of my most favorite places to be. No where else have I traveled brings me such peace and tranquility. I’ve been to countless shores and experienced the beauty of many horizons, but my favorite location is the Pinellas peninsula on the west coast of Florida rightfully called The Sun Coast. It’s where my husband and I shared our first kiss, my dad gave me away in marriage, and our oldest daughter learned to swim. It’s where the most gorgeous sunsets creep behind the horizon to reveal a plethora of reflective colors in the sky that remind me of just how awesome our Creator is. I love this place. 
Yesterday, our kids were collecting seashells. One after the other they would bring their salty treasures to me as I bathed in the sun’s rays. Like every other mom out there, I would exclaim with excitement how cool each seashell, rock, and even a dead crab looked. Later that evening as I gathered up the day’s bounty, I noticed something intriguing about each seashell. Not one was “perfect”. Each shell was cracked, misshapen or otherwise odd. And yet to our kids, they were PERFECT. As I pondered this revelation, it occurred to me that this is exactly how our kids see others. They look past so-called flaws, colors, sexual orientations, beliefs, etc and they see perfections. Just like the seashells they each collected, they treasure and admire others the same. 
Sometimes as parents we wonder about what we might be doing right or wrong in the upbringing of our children; but one thing I know for certain is that we are raising compassionate humans who love others in spite of imperfections. Nothing is more peaceful than seeing the nature of Christ in our children. 


“For My hand made all these things, Thus all these things came into being,” declares the LORD “But to this one I will look, To him who is humble and contrite of spirit, and who trembles at My word.” Isaiah 66:2
“For You do not delight in sacrifice, otherwise I would give it; You are not pleased with burnt offerings. The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; A broken and a contrite heart, O God, You will not despise.” Psalm 51:16-17

A Vessel To Be Reckoned With

So many of my young friends think this is all there is. I pray they keep pressing towards the goal. God will never give up on them.

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“And the vessel that he made of clay was marred in the hand of the potter: so he made it again another vessel, as seemed good to the potter to make it.” Jeremiah 18:4

We are all marred by sin. It is sin that makes us feel damaged, less than perfect, unattractive, useless, disfigured, and scarred. Sin impairs and spoils our vision of what God has planned for our lives. That is why He lovingly crushes us and puts us back on the wheel for remolding.

If anyone knows the marred life it is me. It seems that I have been on the potter’s wheel more than I have been off. My history is certainly less than perfect. Name a Ten Commandment and I will give you an example of just how marred my past (and possibly present) is.

As a young child I was very curious. This curiosity led…

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A Conversation in Hell

“Let’s take personal opinions about private individual desires and make them so political that people will ignore what’s really important. We will use uneducated actors and musicians, well-educated politicians and journalists, and social media to spread the message. We’ll give it a fancy name, like, Liberalism, Conservatism, or perhaps, Progressive Movement, and the goats will eat it up like weeds. We will get these followers so focused on these matters that they will completely ignore what is really destroying their nation. All the while, they will blindly believe their cause is moving forward. They will tear each other apart in the name of “individual and religious rights”. At just the right time, and that time is near, we will move in and make them all convert to our ways or die.”

What Otto taught me…

(One of my most favorite “daughters” asked for parenting advice based on Verse. Here’s what I replied to her in a PM on Facebook. I did not check spelling or grammar, which is a whole other blog of advice. Anyway, I think it’s pretty good advice, so I thought I would share it here too.)

Otto Von Bismarck said, “Only a fool learns from his own mistakes. The wise man learns from the mistakes of others.”

Proverbs 12:15 says, “The way of the fool seems right to him, but a wise man listens to advice.” 

For as long as I can remember, I’ve shared that quote and verse with our kids in the hopes that they would understand that my testimonies are not for entertainment, but rather to help them make wise decisions. So far, so good!! Kennedy knows this well and will quickly quote it!

Too many parents hide their pasts because they are afraid that their kids will say, “you did it, so why can’t I”, and some kids will. As a matter of fact, YOU once told me that!! But, I believe that if we are truthful about the consequences, we can spare our kids a lot of misery. Some of those consequences have life long effects!

As you know, I am very honest about my past with my kids (and you). Sure, there are one or two things that I will forever keep private, but that’s only because it offers no benefit to them. There are a couple things I’ve shared with you and no one else. Once again, I weighed the benefits.

I guess what I’m saying is that I’ve learned that being honest about my mistakes and their consequences and sharing those with my kids is one of my greatest assets as a parent. Well, that and the fact they each know that I would kill or die for them!!

It’s also so very important to love them unconditionally. They are going to make lots of their own mistakes and poor choices.

But isn’t that what the Bible teaches over and over again?? As God’s children, we all fall short. But God still loves us. He’s the perfect example. Tough, yet loving.

Don’t get me wrong, sharing the Gospel is much more important, but in the long run, that choice is ultimately theirs. They’ve (mine) all confessed Jesus as Lord and have been baptized. Their choices, not ours. But even now, I’m able to be honest about being “saved” and still stupid sometimes.

Oh, and teach them to think for themselves!!! Hollywood, politicians, and the media are liars. They feed off our weaknesses and insecurities. Teach them who Christ says they are. They still get to choose what they believe, but at least they will make that choice based on truth and not lies.

Last thing….for now….”For God did not send His Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through Him.” John 3:17. Sometimes we lose sight of why Jesus came. As parents, we must also remember that our purpose is to give our kids life and love, not condemnation.

I love you!!!!!!!!!!

Get Ready!

“We each have a story.” Melody-my gift from God in friendship.

We don’t all have the same story. Though some stories may seem very similar; each story is uniquely our own to tell. And yet, somehow, the Author has taken each of our stories and placed them in His Book of Life to create a masterpiece fit for the King. Just as the Bible has many stories that teach of God’s character and mankind’s struggles and victories in faith, so is this Author’s Book of Life that holds all our stories, bound by the Blood of our Savior, Jesus.

The Christian’s story always points to Salvation through Christ Jesus. The non-believer’s does as well, though she might not ever see heaven as the conclusion. You see, the Author leaves the conclusion up to the character. Sure, He’s writing the story; but to make the story more interesting, He allows the character freewill to choose the various settings, plots, climaxes and conclusions. He even gives room for the character to bring in and eliminate other characters. The Christian chooses heaven as the final setting, whereas the non-believer chooses hell. Either way, it’s still all part of one big book.

Imagine—not all of us has had an abortion or miscarriage; lost a child or been barren; gone through an adoption process; had a rebellious child (or two or three). We have not all sent a kid off to college or the military. We’ve not all suffered a drug or alcohol addiction; been promiscuous, committed adultery, or had same sex tendencies. Not everyone has been dealt the blow of cancer or another life threatening illness. We don’t all suffer from depression, anger issues, doubt, fear, unworthiness, or shame. It’s pretty safe to say that not all of us have a college degree, a great job, or “mission”. We didn’t all grow up in godly homes or church environments. We can’t all sing, dance, paint, write or play musical instruments. We’re not all athletes. Obviously, I could go on and on.

But God…..

God sees past our pasts and brings us to right here where we are in the present. Here, in the present, we find strength to overcome our pasts and to face our futures.

That’s what makes “small groups” so wonderful. They are divine appointments arranged by our loving Father as a gift to encourage one another. He hand picks the members to perfectly fit them together to bring about His goodness in our lives.

In a small group, we can easily see the light in one another. We can even see when the light starts to dim. We offer prayer and comfort as we spur each other on. We develop relationships and become characters in each other’s stories. Our stories become woven together and intertwined in such a way that fits so perfectly in the Author’s hands. Sometimes combining our stories starts out in rough draft and requires lots of editing to create such a fit, but they are still perfect in His hands.

Its my desire that my story, filled with many twists and turns, leads others to my loving Father and my Savior. It’s not always an easy read. There are many parts in my story that are very painful, embarrassing, shameful, and just plain ugly. But Grace is intermingled throughout and ultimately it is by Grace that my story has an awesome conclusion. My story, though far from over, is long, so I share it in chapters called “testimonies”. The Author made sure I had one for every occasion!

In Luke 12:35-48, Jesus shares a parable, or story, regarding “watchfulness”. He warns us to be ready to serve and let our lights always continue to shine. We should always be prepared because we know not when our Master will return. Jesus warms us to be wise and faithful. He clearly wants us to be ready for his arrival at all times. Not just in church or small group, but everywhere. We should also understand that Jesus lives in the hearts of Christians. Therefore, we really need to watch how we treat others. He’s watching us and so are others!

“That servant who knows his master’s will and does not get ready or does not do what his master wants will be beaten with many blows.” vs 47 (NIV)

My story is filled with many blows in the forms of “I should’ve known better” or “I knew better than that, but” or “If I had only” and much more. It is by Grace that my Master has chosen me at all.

“…From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded; and from the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked.” vs 48b (NIV)

God has graciously given me His Spirit. You really can’t give “much” more than that. He entrusted me with a powerful gift. All He really asks is that I share His Story with love, compassion, and gentleness.

My story is, God willing, far from over. I pray that I’m watchful right up to the last word.

Now, get ready!

He was perfect to me

In my last post it may have seemed as though I slammed my dad pretty hard. The truth is what it is. Regardless of whether or not I had all the details, I wrote from MY experience and MY memory. I did not write what I did to tarnish any memory of the man I loved more than any other besides my husband. My intent was to be painfully honest about myself and one of the greatest men I have ever known. Not a perfect man, but one who was perfect to and for me. Not because of perfection, but because of reality.

The night before my dad passed away I shared with him how I believed that he was truly the only man who could have been my father. To me he was perfect in that I could not imagine anyone else filling his role. I don’t have to make up a fake daddy or memory because I truly accept the one God blessed me with for over 41 years.

Some prefer the past stay in the past and secrets stay secrets. I happen to be transparent about my past and secrets. Though I have not exposed all to you, YET, I am praying about it. I just know that what I say and write about must be led of the Holy Spirit and not of personal pride or spite and it must be in His timing to bring about a fruitful harvest.

I have many “dirty little secrets” about myself to expose. Each with a testimony of mercy and grace of our loving God who has taken every evil plan of the enemy and made it good. That is why I won’t dump all of them on you too quickly and without careful prayer. If what I write doesn’t point you to our Most High God in heaven who loves you, then it is fruitless and in vain. If you stick with me long enough, I promise to “Wow!” you with some “no way, not her” stories that will certainly point to Jesus.

I sincerely apologize to any of my family members who were hurt by what I wrote. That was not my intention and I am sure God will reveal that to you once you stop being angry. I am not in the business of “family bashing” but I will not be quiet when God tells me to speak.

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One more year…..

The real reason people celebrate wedding anniversaries is not simply to remember their weddings or commemorate a date on the calendar or even to receive gifts. They celebrate because they understand that one more year of commitment is behind them. One more year of ups and downs has been conquered. Wedding anniversaries are special because they involve two human beings sharing an accomplishment that many give up on and because they give up, they miss out on so many victories and great memories.

Ask any couple who has been married over 50 years and you will find that their longevity did not come without struggles as well as great moments. Yet, so many young or newly married couples jump into marriage so quickly they never stop to ask those who have endured how they made it. As a result, they are completely defeated when tough times come along. And they do come along! I truly believe many marriages could have been saved had the truth about marriage been shared rather than the fairy tale. The truth is marriage is hard work and takes commitment and passion. Anyone who has worked hard on anything they are commited to and passionate about will share that the end result was worth the hard work even when the load was sometimes unbearable. The fairy tale is that a good marriage is always happy and blissful. Your spouse will always understand you and will meet every need you have. If your fairy tale has a wicked enemy, your spouse will defeat him or her and all will be happily ever after. In the fairy tale marriage the house is always clean, the bills are always paid, you like his friends and he likes yours, his mother is wonderful, no one gets sick, and no one could ever turn your spouse’s head. There is no snoring, farting, burping, fowl language or other annoying habits in the fairy tale marriage. But we live in the real world with real marriages that encounter real problems which require real-life solutions.

My parents were married 50 years and two months when my dad passed away after a ten year battle with COPD had finally taken its toll on his body. 50 years is a great milestone in a marriage and sadly, an uncommon one in today’s society. They reached that milestone because they were commited to the promise they made on their wedding day that included, “for better or worse, richer or poorer, in sickness and in health”.

Looking back to my childhood I remember lots of better, richer and health. But the reality was that there was some of worse, sometimes even poorer, and some major sickness.

My parents did not yell at each other in front of me. Though I can remember snide remarks or some minor tension, they did not seem to argue in front of me. Now my brother and sister remember their early years slightly different. How could that be? How could we have different memories of the same parents? Well, their memories of early childhood came from my parents first ten years of marriage. During that time they were still getting to know each other (even though couples never stop getting to know one another). That was a time of setting boundaries, discovering each other’s disciplines and beliefs. Those were the years of establishing the foundation that would help them through many trials as a couple and as parents.

I knew the parents who were in their second decade of marriage. They had become more settled with one another and who they were themselves. Their roles were more defined. They also had a little more independence because my sister and brother were older and could help out with me. Dad was a successful dental technician who owned his own laboratory. Mom was his right-hand who handled the administration side of the business, ran errands, and took care of us kids. My dad loved to play golf and cards at the club after work. Mom played a little golf but she was more in to sunning by the pool with us kids. This was a good and prosperous time for our family but not without sacrifice on the part of my parents. My mother even survived cancer during this decade of marriage. The social life was taking its toll on my parents, especially my mom. I can remember many nights watching her in her bentwood rocking chair….waiting. Of course, I was too young then to know what was going on or to realize how lonely she had become. Looking back, however, I can see it so clearly.

During this decade my brother and sister were now 70’s teenagers running the roads and enjoying their independence. Unfortunately for them, I got to tag along when mom and dad wanted to go out or on vacation. I can imagine how frustrating it must have been for them to have their little sister tagging along. They both did a good job of convincing me of how painful it would be if I ever shared their secrets. Not only did I believe them, but I also enjoyed getting to hang out with them and their friends. Not to mention my sister had a knack for attracting cute guys with cute little brothers! I really only remember one family that was a product of divorce. They were members of the club and had a daughter my age. She had a half brother from California who was the absolute cutest!

As time went by I really thought our family was normal and had it together. By middle school, my parents third decade of marriage, I started meeting other kids whose parents were separated or divorced. This was new and somewhat intriguing to me. This divorce thing was really starting to catch on. It seemed like more and more of my friends had divorced parents or parents who were getting divorced. I was the proud one. My parents were still married.

I never seemed to notice how often my dad would come home intoxicated. (Intoxicated seemed so much nicer than drunk). To be honest, almost all the dads I knew drank so it was no big deal. My dad would sit down at the table play cards or a game with me….it was all good. I never noticed how distant they had become. They actually hid it quite well. They still went out, on vacations, to the lake, worked together, etc. All seemed normal.

During this third decade my mom starting getting a little stronger and a little more independent. She took up hiking with my grandpa and her weekends were filled with trips to the mountains. I either stayed with my sister or at home with my dad. It was during this time I learned the art of sneaking out. They went to bed at 7:30 pm. It wasn’t really that hard!

All three of us kids were “black sheep”. How two people could give birth to three is beyond me. Each of us had our own unique form of rebellious behavior for my parents to deal with. This would later be used as an excuse for my dad’s home avoidance. However history shows that his actions started long before any of us rebelled.

To be honest, I really did not care what they did. It was the 80’s. I was spoiled. What else mattered? My mom made sure I had the best clothes, shoes, hair-do’s, etc. The wheels of trouble started spinning when we were on a shopping spree right before my 15th birthday and one of the credit cards was declined. My mom was ticked. She pulled out another one, paid for my clothes, and then we went to eat. I remember how her mood had completely changed.

On my 15th birthday, my world came to a sudden halt. Everything changed. My dad did not come to my birthday party. My sister and my mom barely spoke. It was weird. Then a couple of hours after the party my dad came home. I had never seen my mom take such extreme control of a situation as she did that night. Without saying a word, they went to their bedroom and a few minutes later returned. Dad was carrying two pillow cases filled with some of his belongings. He never said a word to me. He just came in and left in silence. When the door closed behind him my mom told me that she asked him to leave because she was tired of him cheating on her. Then she went to her room. That was that.

The next day I went straight to my sister. She already knew. She told me that she had seen my dad earlier that day with another woman and had chased them down and told my dad that if he didn’t tell mom, she would. I can’t imagine how she must have felt to actually see that.

Two days after he left he was back. It was their anniversary.

When I walked through the door I was so angry with him. But my mom was not! I walked over and gave her a hug. My dad grabbed my arm and asked me if I was going to give him a hug. I shrugged him off and walked away. Say what you want about AC/DC, Judas Priest, Quiet Riot, and the rest of the great 80’s rockers, but through the tremendously loud speakers blasting my favorite rock bands I was able to withstand my parents for the next few days. And they deserved the noise!

After that all went back to “normal” as if nothing ever happened. But something did happen………..

My ability to fully trust or respect a man was completley severed. Not understanding anything about forgiveness, I lost all respect for my mom. I thought she was weak and spineless. If they thought I was rebellious before, they had not seen anything yet. The next few years, I would really help put their marriage to the test. And yet, not only did they endure, they became stronger!

So, fast-forward to our first decade of marriage. Though I loved my husband, I could not trust him. Not all of that was my dad’s fault either. My husband had a knack for “bending the truth”. (Just sayin’) I knew that it would only be a matter of time before he would betray me. Imagine my surprise when five years into our marriage it was me who would betray him with a former boyfriend of mine. I was completely caught of guard because I had swore I would never put another man before my husband. I believed the fairy tale lie. We got along great with no bills or kids to argue about. We just got to hang out on the weekends and not worry about a thing. He told me all the things I wanted to hear and made me feel like I was special. My husband had stopped doing that. We argued all the time. My betrayal broke my husband’s heart and was about to break our daughter’s heart. It wasn’t until I saw this other man hold our daughter that I came to myself. I was sickened. He was not her father and had no business pretending. We never saw each other after that day. I did not want to hurt my husband any more and I certainly did not want to do to our daughter what my dad had done to me.

The next three years were rough. Once the trust is broken it is close to impossible to regain. We tried going to church but our attendance was lacking and we didn’t really hang out with other Christians. We just could not get passed what had happened. Don’t get me wrong, we still had some great times. We conceived our second child. During my pregnancy my husband spent a lot of time at his friend’s house in South Carolina. There were lots of “opportunities” for my husband to retaliate. Being pregnant did not help my lack of trust either. The extra weight added to my long-suffered insecurity. We were constantly at each other’s throats. We briefly bonded together when our son was born almost eight weeks early. That bonding didn’t last. Seven months after our son’s birth, we split up for seven months. I took the kids and went to Knoxville. It was the worst seven months of my life. I honestly felt like I was in the pig pen.

During that time, (my parents’ were entering their 5th decade of marriage) my mom came by to take me to lunch. She told me all about the struggles earlier on in her marriage. She said, “Charlie, you have no idea how many times I have gotten in the car to leave your dad, and sometimes I made it to my sister’s and stayed a few days, but I always returned. I am so thankful, now, that I stuck it out. But you do what you have to do.”

My mother wasn’t weak and spineless! She was an overcomer!

I finally bent my knees and prayed. My husband and I started to slowly tolerate one another enough to talk. We decided to try again. This time we knew we needed help and we knew that the only One who could help us was God. We committed to going to church every week – no matter what.

The first year back together was tougher than tough. Our loving Father was beyond gracious. He sent us a couple named, Herb and Carolyn, who were a “seasoned” married couple and devout Spirit-filled Christians. They seemed to know exactly what to say and how to pray for our marriage. They became the two most important Christians in our lives and are still today.

It’s been eleven years since our separation. We are now entering in to our third decade of marriage.

I wrote all of this because I think it’s important to remind people that marriage is tough work and requires commitment. Not one single person who has overcome the trials and temptations; endured the heartachs and losses; tasted the bitterness of betrayal and rejection would disagree when I say that it is all worth it. Why? Because even though I wrote about some bad marriage memories, they in no way overshadow all the great and happy blessings we have enjoyed over the past 21 years that a committed marriage brings. Besides, there is not enough memory storage on a thousand computers to tell of all the good things our marriage or my parents’ has seen! Couples make it to 50 years because they endure. They don’t let the bad out-weigh the good. Learning to forgive is the key to longevity. Forgiveness opens the door to trust. Once someone damages or breaks the bond of trust, ONLY forgiveness can mend it. Forgiveness must come from the one hurt for the healing to begin.

Trust can only come when you truly forgive. I had to forgive my dad and stop pretending that just because it happened long ago that it no longer mattered. It did. Though I had told God that I had forgiven my dad years ago, I got to tell my dad while he was in the hospital. I know that my dad always felt a little guilty over what had happened. I only wish I had told him sooner.

We are entering a new phase of marriage on May 4. We now have four kids. Its a time where we are both now considered “middle-aged”. Our bellies aren’t solid anymore, little gray hairs are sneaking in, our parents are getting older, our kids are becoming less dependent, and we have come to understand what “youth is wasted on the young” means. Our bodies don’t function as well as they did ten or twenty years ago and we value down-time and afternoon naps much more. Our style of music is more mellow, choice of television shows more mature, and we don’t go to the movies anymore. We cannot begin to imagine what the next decade will be like, but we do know this; it will have ups and downs. We will use the valuable lessons learned in the first two decades to help sustain us in the next. First and foremost is our relationship with Jesus Christ. We owe our marriage to Him.

It was ultimately God who restored our marriage and who has made it what it is today. It is ultimately God who will keep our marriage preserved to the end of our time on earth. But it was my parents who taught me that marriage is a commitment worth keeping. I am so proud of my parents for demonstrating a lasting marriage. This world is running short on lasting marriages. We are doing our part to change that.

On our wedding day, May 4, 1991, my dad gave both my husband and me the same advice when he met with us seperately before the ceremony: “You have to learn to take the bad with the good to make your marriage last.” That was some excellent advice from a man who truly understood.

No, its not the wedding dress, cake or decorations that we celebrate. Its so much more. We celebrate because we have added one more year of perserverance to our kingdom resume’. We celebrate because the enemy is defeated with every anniversary.

I don’t want or ask for jewelery or flowers. Trips are fun but can be taken anytime. I eat dinner every night and my husband can grill a steak to perfection. Better than any five-star chef.

All I want for my anniversary is the gift of another year with my husband…..good or bad.

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…God is sending us in

It sincerely breaks my heart when I hear reports of drug cartel violence in Mexico. Particularly the reports regarding one of my favorite places filled with some of my very favorite people, Piedras Negras. Piedras Negras (The Black Stones) is a border town located across from Eagle Pass, Texas and is about 150 miles southwest of San Antonio, Texas. It has a population of approximately 150,000. Throughout the years it has been a somewhat quiet tourist town and is famous for being the place where nachos originated. ;
Piedras Negras and its people stole my heart in April 2004 when my daughter and I drove all night from Cartersville, Georgia to Lake Charles, Louisiana; then the next day through seven tornadoes in Texas forcing us to have to stop for the rest of the day to seek shelter; and finally, almost two and a half days later we reached the border town. ;
This was my first trip to Piedras Negras and my daughter’s second. (The God-driven events leading to the trip will be shared at another time). The purpose of our trip was to aid in humanitarian and disaster relief efforts with Hands and Feet Ministries after a flood destroyed parts of the city and killed over 70 people. We were transporting medical supplies so we were very cautious at the border. Before crossing, we stopped at a convenient store in Eagle Pass to let our contacts know we had arrived and would be crossing the border. The prayer request for our safe and hassle free passage went out. With God’s help, ;and due to the circumstances surrounding our trip, the border on Mexico’s side was empty. Not a military soldier, policeman, or border patrol in sight. It was very surreal – like a ghost town.
We wasted no time heading out to the flood-ravished areas. For me, it was overwhelming. The devastation was so completely overwhelming. Yet in the midst of the destruction I was impressed with how the people of Piedras Negras responded. There were no angry protests or violent outcries for justice. No demands for food, shelter, or water. No, there was a stunning sense of peace and compassion. Peace as neighbor helped neighbor with much needed shelter and clean up efforts. Compassion as one comforted another. The people were also very eager to share their stories with us as we walked by. “El agua se elevó a aquí”, “Nuestra casa estaba alli’”, “Estábamos dormidos cuando la inundación llegó a través de las paredes”. With each step the pain in my heart grew more and more intense as we handed out food, water, cleaning supplies, tarps and linens. All items were received with gracious smiles and enduring words of appreciation. It was very humbling. ;
During our lunch break on our fourth day, one of the Mexican mission volunteers, Bascilio, told us the story of how his father-in-law had bought a new pair of Nike tennis shoes for $125.00 but never wore them for fear of messing them up. “They just sat in the closet tormenting me.” explained Bascilio. He laughed as he told of how he convinced his father-in-law to give him the shoes because he would wear them everywhere and all the time. At that moment he held up his feet to model his new Nikes. We all laughed. (“A merry heart maketh a cheerful countenance:” Proverbs 15:13a)
The next day we went to a community that had been basically wiped out. Only a few structures remained. The people, however, stayed on their property. It was as if they feared someone would come and claim it if they left. Simple lean-tos were propped up on lots against trees and pieces of remaining structures. Clothes lines were hung everywhere with all sorts of items hanging from them to dry.
Though the barrier of language was tough, so many women would hold my hands and weep as I prayed with them. Yet, after the prayers and weeping came the smiles and hugs of gratitude. I must admit, I cried a lot too.
One particular memory is burned in to my mind and it is one the Lord uses often to remind me of my purpose and His direction for my life. It was one of those moments we Christians refer to as a “Divine Appointment”.
We had stopped to help a lady and her daughter who were frantically sweeping mud and muck out of their once beautiful stucco home. All that was left of their belongings was in the front “yard” drying in the sun. The structure of the home was still solid even though the house had been covered in water all the way up to the second story. The woman was a proud woman and refused our offer to help. I asked her if I could at least pray with her. She just smiled. So, I prayed. As we turned to walk away she grabbed my hand and prayed for me! Then she told my daughter, “Immitate su madre…..Tan dulce, tan hermosa… como luz del sol”, which the translator told us meant, “Be like your mother, so sweet, so beautiful, like sunshine.” Wow! I thanked her and gave her a hug and then both of us cried.
Out on the street, I had taken all I could possibly take. My knees buckled under me as I cried the hardest cry I could ever remember up to that point in my life. The pain in my chest was unbearable. Just as I thought I was about to collapse under all the emotional pressure I felt the sun’s rays on my face and then the warmest hand on my right shoulder. At that moment I heard the voice of God speak quietly in my soul, “Now, you know what you have to do. Go and do it.” At that moment my tears dried and my broken heart felt restored. I turned to find a man from Georgia standing there. He said, “Hi, my name is Jim and I’m here to help.”
Along with our Interpreter, the three of us walked along the street looking for people for whom we could give supplies and a little hope and encouragement. A few blocks later, I discovered a Spanish Bible in the middle of a pile of washed up rubbish. Inside the Bible were family photos. I prayed for the family and stuck the photos back in the Bible. I still have them today.
Meanwhile, back at the truck and designated meeting point, three other folks from Georgia who came with Jim met up with Bascilio and were awaiting our return. (Timing is everything!) As we approached, we witnessed Bascilio trading his prized Nikes for an old man’s torn, over-sized, rain-soaked, non-matching boots. I saw Jesus right there in Bascilio’s actions. I saw Jesus!!
Later that evening, I opted to stay in my hotel room while the others took daughter to eat and for ice-cream. I needed to be alone with God. Once again, the tears flowed and this would now become the hardest cry I had ever cried. There would be short bursts of prayer, Scripture reading, singing of old hymn songs, screaming at God, and then begging Him to forgive me. Then I would start the whole process over again. This went on for about two hours until (BAM!) the words the lady and God had spoken earlier made their way back into my heart. I knew right there in that moment exactly what she and God were trying to tell me.
I may not be the best writer or the most eloquent speaker. I may not have lots of money or any amazing talents and I am not abundantly educated in meaningless matters. But one thing I do have is compassion for the hurting and lost. I believe the smile God gave me was given to me to express a heart filled with His love and His compassion for all of His children. God sent me to Piedras Negras to show me His purpose for my life was so much more than being a good Christian with near perfect church attendance. He created me to be so much more than a wife and a mother. He did not create me to be just a “willing” servant, but also a “doing” servant. He called me to be a lover of His children. He created me to be His hands outstretched and ready to hold others up and comfort them in good times and bad. He created me to be His feet ready to run in to battle to fight and protect those who are in need. He created me to be His Ambassador equipped to share His message of hope and eternity.
How He chooses to use me is uniquely suited to how He created me for His purpose. For years I tried to fit the mold of what others thought I should do and be who others thought I should be. What a wonderful, glorious wake-up call! He created me to be so much more!
Over the years I have been questioned and even criticized for my involvement in missions both foreign and domestic. I have been asked, “How can you leave your children?” or “What kind of mother leaves her children like that?” My personal favorite is, “Does your husband really LET you go?” Even a backwoods pastor told my husband, “She left the mission field when she went to Nicaragua and left her kids at home. That’s her mission field.” One of the most worn out questions is, “How are you going to get the money to go?”
This journey has not been easy but it has been very rewarding. With each obstacle, objection, and doubt, God has cancelled out the enemy’s petitions to hold me back.
For those of you who want answers to the previous questions, here they are:
I can leave my children because I trust my husband, my family, and my friends – the body of Christ – to care for them by the grace of God. I can leave them because God gives them and me peace. It is the first thing I ask of God when He calls me to go.
My husband “lets” me go because he trusts that I only go where God sends me and in Rob’s words, “Who am I to tell God, no, You can’t use my wife?”
My mission field is where ever God places me. Period.
God is the provider of all my needs. If He is truly calling me, then He will supply the money and supplies needed for me to go. He does this mainly through gifts and donations from fellow Believers. He even used an unexpected IRS return for my first Piedras Negras trip!
I’ve returned many times to Piedras Negras since 2004. Each time God has opened up Himself even more to me and me to Him. I could write many blogs just on my first trip alone. Each trip is a unique and one-of-a-kind experience tailored made for that particular moment in time. I have even been blessed with a Mexican daughter named Lucy whom I love dearly and loves me the same.

Today, many missionaries and missions groups are turning away from Mexico out of fear due to the territory war between the drug cartels. Now, more than ever, our neighbors to the south need to be reminded of God’s great love, provision, and protection. We must demonstrate our faith in action. We must continue to walk in the faith we have professed. “JesuChristo es El Señor de Piedras Negras!” God is not finished with missions in Mexico. The devil is a liar!

;At a time when many US missionaries are pulling out or refusing to return to Mexico, we trust that God is sending us in. My daughter and I will be returning to Piedras Negras and Nava June 30-July 6. Your prayers are very important as we *prepare and go.

Now, please cover us, Hands and Feet Ministries, and the beautiful people of Mexico in prayer.

*We are gathering school & cleaning supplies, as well as 125 new or gently used backpacks. (We already have 75) We will not be taking toys, (with exception to soccer balls), food, clothing or shoes. I’m not asking you for money or supplies. That’s the Holy Spirit’s job. But I am asking for prayer. ;

2 Tim 4:16-18
At my first answer no man stood with me, but all men forsook me: I pray God that it may not be laid to their charge. Notwithstanding the Lord stood with me, and strengthened me; that by me the preaching might be fully known, and that all the Gentiles might hear: and I was delivered out of the mouth of the lion. And the Lord shall deliver me from every evil work, and will preserve me unto his heavenly kingdom: to whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen

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