The Third Christmas Came with Grace

The grace of God will infuse you with joy despite your apathetic feelings about life. The grace of God will give you perseverance as you deal with chronic health issues. The grace of God will sustain you when you feel completely and utterly hopeless. The grace of God will provide everything that you need whenever you are lacking. The grace of God will usher in your greatest comfort in times of loss and sorrows.  The grace of God will pour in strength into you when you feel completely helpless.  The grace of God will help you to fulfill your calling even in the midst of your trials.

I'm talking about the same grace that saved you from a life doomed to hell. God is able to make us sufficient in all things by the power of His grace. II Cor 9:8

If you have followed this blog or read my post "Not this Christmas" you will have a bit of insight as to why the holiday seasons are still a bit rough for me. And this post is not meant to be a "woe is me" post. It is meant to give you a glimpse into how God's grace continues to enable me to do the things that are necessary in life. And how His grace has again helped me to find the pleasure in family gatherings. It is to share how I avoided naming this post "Not This Year, Either".

We all have our share of difficulties, trials, temptations and the like. These things came with the sin of Eve and Adam. They are an inevitable part of life. The events themselves leave wounds and when healed, scars. As with scars upon one's skin, careful attention and time will fade their appearance. So, that's really what this post is about; how this third Christmas without my little sister, came to be a joyous occasion.

The Thanksgiving holiday came and went with very little notice. I had to work. Sister wasn't much on hosting. The nephew #1 had alternate plans with his wife and in-laws. And nephew #2 was unavailable to attend. So, we each texted the others with the obligatory "Happy Thanksgiving" message. Without a Thanksgiving gathering, we would have to set aside another time to discuss Christmas plans. 

Two weeks into December and we still had not decided on date, time, nor menu. Then three days before Christmas, we hatched a plan to gather together. Each brought goodies to eat and presents to exchange. While I hoped that we would do more than just go through the motions, I didn't expect the grace that came after the meal.

Number 1 nephew & his wife had chosen a gift for my sister, that essentially became a fun family project for all of us. It was a gingerbread house kit. We divided the contents and started on the houses. No one took time to look at the instructions. What ensued was sheer chaos.... and lots of laughter. Three different houses being built according to three different processes. One started with the walls. Another started with the decorations. And my husband just let me make a great big mess of ours. Each person tried to give advice to the others on how to make it work.

Sticky icing on everything. Decorative pieces stuck everywhere except where they should have been placed. Each house as it was raised, but then promptly came tumbling down. I finally took all of our pieces and sandwiched them together with the icing. Then, proudly proclaimed "done. It is a condo for the ants". The reaction from the galley included all sorts of comments, but mostly laughter.

We seemed to savor the moments like enjoying a bite of granny's chocolate pie. There was even a few seconds of silence here and there. Then we all pitched in and cleaned up the mess, tidied the kitchen, and prepared to go home. 

Hugs all around and a lot of "I love you" was said. Goodies in hand, we each went to our own homes. Days later, we were still talking about those gingerbread concoctions and the laughter that lightened our hearts.

Truly God's grace is the perfect addition to every occasion.

Old Wounds: New Opportunities

Three years have passed. Like the grass that now covers her grave, time has closed the rift that spanned my countenance. Like the headstone that marks her location, the scars of her absence mark my soul. Yet inside, the healing process continues. 

"This house of flesh is but a prison. Bars of bone are holding my soul. But the doors of clay are gonna burst wide open, when the angels set my spirit free." These words written by Dottie Rambo. You can find the story behind the song, here.

As Lazarus was brought from the tomb, so my shroud covered hopes have emerged. And as the mourners were instrumental in removing his grave clothes, so KK's closest relatives and friends have hastened my unveiling. Even people who knew her not, have provoked the revelation of the depths of my grief.

Mourners from near and far gathered for her wake and funeral. Many were relatives and folks with long-time connections to our family. Some were the parents of the children that she had rocked gently in their days at the center where she had worked. Others were those children, now grown themselves, paying respect to a lady they called "KK". Oh the stories that were shared, their memories that now have become a part of mine. Seeds of healing planted in days just prior to her burial.

Sympathy cards, letters, texts, & phone calls followed. Each with a little bit of balm to apply to my grieving heart. Some simply stated, "you are in my prayers". Others contained scriptures and words of encouragement. Their sentiments soothed me; temporarily. I was grateful but longed for the embrace of someone who had experienced an identical loss. Yet it was difficult for me to share that need with my remaining sister. We spent time with one another, but neither of us could muster a conversation about how deeply we were hurting.

For months after her death, I struggled to keep myself together. I just had too many folks depending on me. The first holidays without her were particularly pressing. I felt that I had to put on my happy face and carry on the family traditions as if the family were fully intact. Doing these things mostly for my nephew, I failed to realize it would take much more than traditions to restore our downtrodden souls.

My patients suffered as well. I found great difficulty in procedures that were previously seamless. Every time an infusion pump would alarm, I would temporarily freeze. When a vital sign limit was breached and the familiar sounds of alert would blare, I would get flushed and light-headed. I would feel faint and need to stop what I was doing and leave the room. My co-workers labeled my behavior as "panic attacks". I refused to believe that it was anxiety, choosing rather to think it was metabolic in some way.

A full physical exam revealed no such problem. My physician prescribed a mild anti-depressive drug. I despise taking medicine and loathed the idea of being on a "happy pill". But I decided I would give it an honest trial. And while I was going to "get happy" anyway, I agreed with my hubby that a vacation could be the best remedy of all. 

To shorten the story, I will tell you this; ten days away from all of my regular stressors, some happy pills, lots of devotional time, and prayer made all the difference. I continued the meds for 3 months, then quietly weaned myself from them. Six months post check-up with the doc, and she agreed with my course of action.

And then the ministry opportunities came from all sorts of places. For a span of 16 months, I was the regularly scheduled Wednesday Bible Study teacher.  Doors opened to minister to fellow employees who were struggling loss, pain, & grief. And through an unsuspected course of events, a letter writing ministry was born. Letters of biblical instruction and encouragement, written to the incarcerated.

The open doors and the grace needed to pass through them, became the Balm of Gilead to my grief-stricken soul. I am truly a living witness of how the all sufficient ONE will supply all the grace needed to heal, restore, revive, and re-direct the life of one of His own. 

Not This Year

This morning, I re-read my sister, Cindy's post, this post, entitled "Mama's Christmas Fudge".  It brought back bittersweet memories of our annual candy making day. Our mother died in August 2001.  Making candy that year, was difficult; yet my sisters and I turned out some very tasty treats. It was a tear filled day, but one that brought much comfort. Through the years, candy days have been filled with memories and laughter. Every December we have continued with the tradition; each year perfecting the craft, adding different flavors, & making more than the previous year. 

Our fudge has been the prized gift received by family & friends. But not this year......We tried; Cindy & I. We gathered the ingredients, the utensils, and cooking vessels. But I just couldn't bring myself to be in the kitchen, much less to try to make the sweet confections. My broken heart refused to make candy without my little sister. I resigned myself to the couch, with no consideration of Cindy's feelings. I closed my eyes, covered my head, tried not to even listen to the voices in the kitchen.

My nephew and his wife had come over to visit with Cindy. Since they were visiting and I was not, Cindy enlisted their help to make the fudge. They followed the recipes, they did everything that our notes had added to the process, everything smelled & looked great. But, the fudge did not "set" properly. It tasted fine, but was too soft to cut and place in separate containers. 

Cutting the fudge had always been my job, so I forced myself to try. It was just too soft. We tried putting it in the fridge for a while to see if that would help. Even tried the freezer. I managed to get a few pieces cut, but soon quit trying. It wasn't right. I wasn't right. It wasn't going to get right. I wasn't sure that I was going to get right, either.

Finally, I just couldn't handle my feelings any longer. I said my good byes and headed home. I later texted Cindy and apologized for my behavior. I admitted that I was sad. Her reply let me know that she too, was sad.

Grief has many facets and the duration of its effects varies from person to person. Some people never recover from its devastation. Sometimes I feel as though I have had enough grief for one lifetime. Yet, I know that as long as I am earth-bound, grief will be with me in one form or another. HOWEVER, I KNOW THAT JESUS IS WITH ME, REGARDLESS OF THE TYPE OR LEVEL OF GRIEF THAT I MAY EXPERIENCE.

It is in that "knowing" that I find COMFORT. So maybe the fudge didn't set this year.... it is not the end of my world. And so, my baby sister moved into her heavenly home.... I refuse to remain sad about that. For one day, (whether by the grave or the rapture), I WILL SEE HER AGAIN.

Next Time

The following sentence is part of the last paragraph from my August 25th post. "Next time, it may be me, standing in the need of prayer".  Little did I know how soon that "next time" would be. 

On ,September 3, 2021 my baby sister, KK was diagnosed with c0vid* pneumonia. It was the beginning of Labor Day weekend. The Convenient Care Clinic where she was seen, sent her home in the same shape that she was in when she entered their door. She was told to use her home oxygen and go to the Emergency Room if her symptoms became unmanageable. Additionally, they told her that she qualified for the monoclonal antibody infusion, but couldn't get it until after the holiday.

In the days that followed, her symptoms worsened. She had to increase her oxygen usage from 1 liter  to 3 liters. She experienced head ache, nausea, vomiting, and diarrhea. Yet, she insisted that she would be alright; her hope pinned on prayer and the infusion that had been scheduled for September 8, 2021.

Weak, but unwilling to call an ambulance, she gathered enough strength to get into the car to go for the infusion. Once we made it to the Infusion Clinic, she was taken inside via wheel chair. I had to remain outside of the building.  For the next two hours, I waited, worried, prayed, texted, and drank coffee. Time passed. I could only wonder what was taking so long. When I was finally able to talk to a person who actually knew her whereabouts; I found out that she had been taken to the Emergency Room. Fortunately, it was in the same building complex as the Infusion Clinic.

Another hour went by and then two. By this time, she & I had exchanged a few texts. The last of which read, "I'm going to the big house**, bra-less and with only one flip flop". Despite the gravity of the situation, she had retained her sense of humor. At this point, I scrambled to gather a few personal items for her; phone charger, toothbrush, tooth paste, deodorant, etc. Next hurdle; how was I to get these items to her when I wasn't allowed inside the building?

God smiled on me & helped me to arrive in the correct ambulance bay, at the right time, to get her stuff to the ambulance driver. He would not confirm that she was the patient in his care. However, when he did not deny it, I took that as a sign that she was, in fact, in his ambulance. I will forever be grateful to have made that connection in time. Due to c0vid restrictions, it would be nearly three weeks before I would see my sister again. 

Text messages were our only means of communication with baby sis. First she was on high flow oxygen, but soon after, was placed on a Bi-Pap, We tried talking on the phone, but she could barely talk and breathe at the same time. On September 12, 2021, she was intubated and placed on a ventilator.

Then the roller coaster ride of day to day health changes, ensued. She was fully sedated into coma to tolerate being on the ventilator, so she could no longer text. No visitors allowed, due to  C0vid restrictions that would not be lifted until September 24th.

At some point we got word that we could set up a Zoom sessions with her. We were allowed one, ten minute session each day. While she was unconscious, there was little to do but talk to her and hope that she was hearing us. We closed each session with prayer for her and for her caretakers. Once they doctors started decreasing the sedation, she was able to interact with us with nods, smiles, and hand gestures. We had some good visits, but we longed to see her for longer than 10 minutes at a time, and we wanted to see her in person.

On the 19th day of her admission, we were allowed to visit face to face. But restrictions only allowed one visitor per twenty-four hours. Those visits were like pure gold to us ( middle sister & me). Some days, she was able to interact freely and we could see that she was improving. Then at times, there would be set backs and the sedation would be increased. And once again, she would not be able to communicate with us.

On the home front, we cried, we prayed, we leaned on our family and  friends, and we set our eyes on the miracle that we fully expected to take place. We proclaimed our faith to all that we met. We shared the testimony of her previous illness and recovery.*** We held on to God's unchanging hand. And even in all of that, we felt utterly helpless.

The days and nights seemed to run together. We basically pieced together the reports each day. Sometimes a nurse or doctor would call me with an update. Sometimes I would call the night nurse and get a report. And then, there were times while I was visiting her, that I actually was able to talk directly to a doctor. She had some very good ones and one or two that were just "okay". Same with the nurses; two of them ranked very high in our esteem and yet others barely made an impression at all. But we were thankful to know that she was receiving good care.

In general, the longer a person is on a ventilator, the less likely are they to recover. Yet, we held on to our hope that KK would be miraculously healed. All in all, she was on the ventilator for 35 days. In that stretch of time, she endured the following procedures; urinary catheter, central line placement, arterial line placement, tracheotomy, chest tube placements, feeding tube, and an untold number of peripheral sticks for blood tests. She suffered from anxiety, fevers, infections, frustrations with trying to communicate, body aches from being bed-ridden, and pain from procedures. Yet, she remained strong in the assurance that God was working on her behalf. 

How do I know that she knew this? On the day before she passed away, I was able to sit with her for about 4 hours. In that time, I held her hand, I talked to her, prayed with her, and at some point, I said, "God's got you, baby girl and He is working for you. Do you know that?" And she responded with a smile and a nodding of her head. On that positive note, I said my good byes and headed home. Little did I know that would be the last time that we would be together.

On the following morning @ 7:40 AM, my sister entered into the joys of heaven; never to experience pain again. She had completed forty days in the wilderness of a critical care unit. Did we cry? YES. Did we mourn? YES. Yet, we rejoiced in the miracle of her full recovery. It did not happen in the way that we wanted, but it happened in God's timing and in His way. Are we still crying? Yes, at times. Are we still grieving? Yes, each in our own way. Are we still rejoicing? Yes, for we know that we will be reunited with her one day.

KK's wilderness trial helped me to re-evaluate my purpose, realm of influence,  faith, relationships, testimony, and ministry. I discovered areas in my life that needed some attention. And I found great strength as I prayed for others who were going through the ordeal of C0vid and its devastation.

Dear reader, be encouraged today. Nothing is too hard for God. There is no sickness that He can not heal. No broken heart that He can not mend. No grief so deep that He can not ease it. And when the answers to our prayers are delayed or come in an unexpected way, He will be there to help us to rejoice in the aftermath.

* I refuse to spell it correctly. When spelled correctly, it shows up in search engines and then it is flagged for review by the Internet police. I'm not a conspiracy nut; but I have seen first hand censorship on other social media sites.

** refers to the flag ship hospital, Jackson Madison County General Hospital which has 600+ beds

*** In 2017, she was diagnosed with Dematomyositis, DVT, Pulmonary Emboli, CHF, Pulmonary Hypertension, and other related conditions. She was told that she would be permanently disabled and that she would be on oxygen the rest of her life. In November 2018 at CrossRoads A/G, she testified of God's healing power. Then she sang, "God is My Refuge" with the same gusto that she had enjoyed prior to the string of illnesses that she had endured. She went back to work part-time in 2019 and full-time in 2020. And was working full-time when she contracted C0vid.  - https://youtu.be/PlgRMJXcgtc

Another Soldier Made it Home

Last November I introduced you to this Soldier of the Cross. He no longer has to battle physically or spiritually. Some would say that he is now at rest. Peace, yes. Rest...... I doubt it. He was rarely idle in this life. He spent it working in God's vineyard. Now I am sure he is rejoicing evermore.

On September 9, 2008 Reverend Vilbert Vernon McCoy quietly slipped from his earthly existence into his eternal life with Jesus Christ. I'm sure that he wasn't so quiet once he made it to the other side. He was a stalwart in the Christian faith; a church planter, pastor, evangelist, prophet, and one crying in the streets, "Jesus is coming soon".

He was 93 years old. He leaves behind his wife of 70 something years. He preached for 60 years. What a testiimony to the power of the Cross. Until recent years, he averaged preaching 5 times per week. He traveled from one corner of Tennessee to the other many many times. He preached in every jail, juvenile detention center,hospital, and nursing home along the way. He preached anywhere the door was opened to the Gospel. He distributed over 100,000 tracts. All of which he wrote and published himself.

If ever a man was passionate about souls, Uncle V.V. was.Known all over the state as Brother V.V., he was never without a scripture on his lips. Only God knows how many souls have been won into the Kingdom because he took time to preach and pray. He will be sorely missed by many.

Gone Fishing

Bright and early this morning I was awakened by the creaking of my bedroom door. Peeping in ever so quietly, was my Golden Boy. He wanted to know when I was going to get up and when we were going fishing. Oh how I wish I had the energy of an eight year old boy. Long story short, we got up and went fishing. Sad to say, we didn't catch anything. Maybe next time we should do our casting from the other side of the pond.

3Simon Peter saith unto them, I go a fishing. They say unto him, We also go with thee. They went forth, and entered into a ship immediately; and that night they caught nothing.4But when the morning was now come, Jesus stood on the shore: but the disciples knew not that it was Jesus.5Then Jesus saith unto them, Children, have ye any meat? They answered him, No.6And he said unto them, Cast the net on the right side of the ship, and ye shall find. They cast therefore, and now they were not able to draw it for the multitude of fishes. John 21:3-6

Hungry and exhausted the disciples could have easily blown off the advice of the man on the shore. They had no idea that the man was the One that controlled the sea and all that it contained. It was only after he revealed his identity to Peter, that they understood why they hauled in more fish than their boats could hold.

Oftentimes our circumstances are less than ideal. Sometimes there is little or nothing to show for our labors. The feeling of failure fosters the idea of throwing in the towel or in Peter's case, the net.

But rest assured, Jesus will show up in our times of difficulty. It is up to us to be looking for him. We may not recognize his hand at work, but his voice will reveal his identity to us. So, we must ever be listening for his guidance and be willing to follow his directions.

When Will I See You?

One evening last week, CWGIII called me. He said, "when am I going to see you?" My heart just melted. I was disappointed that I was at work and couldn't go at that very moment. I assured him that his uncle and I would be up for a visit as soon as possible.

Sunday after church we made the 60 mile trek to Paris. We even did the drive through thing for lunch. I knew my golden boy would waiting. Notice I didn't say patiently waiting. He always greets me with a list of stuff to do while I am there. I cherish the time we have together.

The first thing we did; he rode the skateboard and I watched. He likes sports but he needs to work on his balance skills. Instead of skating standing up, he rode the board sitting down. I tried to help him ride it the right way, but that was too restrictive for him. Soon we were both sweaty and winded so we went inside to cool off.

Then he showed me an effortless and painless way to skate. He had a new game for his Xbox. We designed our own skating park. We gave the skater and his board a new look. Then his hands began a frenzy of motion. His hands seem to be more coordinated than his legs. I patted his back and played with his hair all the while he worked the controls. That's how we played.

You see, it wasn't what we did that was important. It was that we did it together. I know he would love to wrestle the way we used to when he was smaller. He would be overjoyed if I lived close by and could play everyday. I would be too. But things change as we age. Quality becomes more important than quality. He may not know that now, but he will in time.

Sometimes I hear God saying, "when am I going to see you?" He knows all and sees all, but His desire is to fellowship with me. He has things He wants to tell me. He wants to hear my prayers. My time with Him is sometimes limited by circumstances. Yet I know that I find time for those who are important to me. If I only have a few minutes, they need to be quality minutes. He does not require a certain quantity of time, just my whole life. I must give Him quality time.

When will I see Him? When He comes for His bride. I want to be ready. How about you?

Originally posted at Beneath The Ivy Wreath.

Still Running with the Vision

This man has driven more miles, visited more inmates, prayed for more patients, worn out more cars, and written more booklets/tracts than anyone I know. And he is a 92 year old man
with his own website: V.V. McCoy Outreach Ministries: Preaching Peace, Perfecting Purpose, & Imparting the Prophetic.
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He has been in full-time ministry as long as I can remember. He has planted churches, pastored many more, and evangelized from one end of Tennessee to the other. He has done mission work and served as a volunteer chaplain. I believe he has been inside of all 600 rooms at Jackson General Hospital; probably several times over. Ask any A/G preacher around here if they know Brother V.V. and they will probably have a story or two to tell you.
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He has dedicated babies, performed wedding ceremonies, and preached funerals and homecomings. He has mentored and sent lay people and ministers alike. He has lived the Word of God and lived it well. And he is still living and preaching the Gospel of Jesus Christ.
I don't know how much longer he will be on this earth, but I guarantee you he will not quit preaching until he breathes his last breath. It is my prayer that he leaves this life in his sleep, because I know he wouldn't want to be cut off right in the middle of a good text. (smile)
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Please pray for my Great-Uncle V.V. McCoy. His wife of 70 years is now in the nursing home. She has Alzheimers and he could no longer care for her at home. His health too is beginning to wane. He was admitted into the hospital earlier this week. His heart is weak but his mind is still sharp. He quotes the Bible, chapters at a time. Prayers and prophetic words are always on his lips. Just this evening, he prayed for one of his nurses. She said he spoke the very scriptures that she needed to hear.
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I just wanted to give him some roses while he is still living. I thank God for Uncle V.V. and I love him.

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**** Late addition: You can find full copies of his works at this site.

Pink Seasons

Most of you know what's up with the pink ribbon. For those of you who do not, it is for October being breast cancer awareness month. It is a noble deed to raise funds for research and aid to those affected by it. Wearing a pink ribbon is a way to show support for cancer patients and survivors. It is a worthy subject for anyone to post on their blog. Still I hesitate to tell you what it brings to my mind.


You see, I have seen a few pink seasons. I have worked in healthcare for 25+ years. Those seasons just come with the territory. I have lost count of the number of cancer patients that I have met through the years. From acquaintances to my own family members, I have seen the ravages of the disease.

I have an aunt that is a survivor of 20 years or more. She has also survived cervical cancer and numerous skin cancers. She is a real trooper and avid supporter of the cause. The treatment for her breast cancer was a radical mastectomy, chemotherapy, and radiation. However, the cure was found in prayer and reliance on the Lord.

My mother was diagnosed with breast cancer in 1997. To say it was a rough year of treatment is putting it mildly. For her it was surgery, chemo, and radiation. It was getting dressed and going to appointments when she was too weak to even talk. It was pain, tears, and hardship. It was a pink season alright. Every thing was colored by the cancer. Daily activities were limited. Food took on different tastes. Smells made her sick. The times were difficult but not hopeless.

Mama just took it all in stride. She held fast to her faith in God. She was certain that He would put no more on her than she could bear. Though she was off work for most of a year, she was never late paying a bill. There was always food in the pantry and fridge. Many times she had to encourage me that all would be well.

A pink season indeed. I was living 1200 miles away. Married and working full time at the local hospital. My heart ached to be with her 24/7. It just wasn't an option at the time. But thanks to some generous co-workers and a compassionate supervisor I managed to make 6 seven day trips to Tennessee that year. My faith in a loving Savior gave me the strength to do whatever had to be done.

Mama went back to work cancer-free before the year was over. She was blessed to see 3 more years before the cancer returned. Cruel thing, metastatic cancer; it was breast cancer cells, but found in her bones, liver, and brain. Floods of emotion and memories of the previous bout could not keep her down. A stalwart in the faith, she kept her focus on Jesus. She kept the faith and finished her course on August 8, 2001.

Breast cancer took her flesh but it could not take her joy. She traded an earthly home for a heavenly one. As much as I miss her, I will see her again. Yes it is important to promote breast cancer awareness. But it is more important to proclaim Jesus as the cure for the body and soul; to preach a message of hope to all those experiencing a pink season.



Note to my family: If you feel that I was too personal in this post, please forgive me. I just wanted to honor the faith of our family and proclaim the faithfulness of our God.

Not the Same Old Story

Some time ago I posted a synopsis of a Sunday morning sermon given by my pastor. I had a lot of traffic and seven comments on that one. Perhaps I should use Mondays for posting my sermon notes from the previous day. Then again, my note taking may be limited since I am now working with the media production crew and in the sound booth. That's another story for another day. Guess I just wanted you all to know that I gone from techno-wanna be to a multi-media flunky. (smile)

Pastor entitled Sunday's message, "Speak Lord". Sunday School veterans, stay with me now. I know you are thinking of a couple of Bible stories you heard so many times as children. I had the same thoughts as he continued on giving the text references. Just as I was about to put myself on auto-pilot, the Lord spoke to me. He simply said, "Watch and pray". It wasn't what He said that roused me. It was how my mind completed the verse, just as I had heard it so many times.

You see, I was about to lean back and let my mind wander. I was about to allow the familiarity of the text, keep me from hearing a fresh admonition from the throne. I was about to be a poor example for the rest of the body. I was about to let my pastor down. I was about to open the door and let satan step inside. I was about to .......sin.

I always exhort folks to interpret scriptures in light of their context. And I'm not much on studies that are wholly topical in nature. But there are single scriptures that can stand alone as commands of God. Each of the 10 Commandments support this notion, as does many of the Proverbs. Is it a stretch to apply shutting the devil out and avoiding the path of the wicked , to my Sunday morning experience? I don't think so. Different contexts but same principle.

The 3 verses I have referenced convicted me. They became a single exhortation that went something like this: Be alert and pray so you will not yield to temptation. Don't let satan disrupt your purpose. Push him out of your way and get involved in the service.

It was clear to me that I had to take authority over the enemy and over my flesh. Much like casting my thoughts into prison. I could not tune out my pastor just because I thought I knew where he was going with the message. I go to church to be fed the Word of God, to worship the Lord, to fellowship with the saints, to support the pastor, and to use my gifts to serve others.

So I rebuked the tempter, put my mind on the Lord, inclined my ear to hear the preached Word, and I gave hearty amens as I responded to the message. My soul was filled and my heart encouraged. All because I heard the Lord speak to me at the beginning of the sermon. I am thankful for the chastening of the Lord.

Soon I will be posting highlights of pastor's sermon "Speak Lord". For now, I will leave you with this exhortation: Muzzle your flesh and hear the preached Word. Always listen for the voice of the Lord. He may speak to you at any time, even during Sunday morning service; even when you think it is the same old story.

Looking for me?

You will find me Beneath the Ivy Wreath today. Somehow I just can't seem to post in two places on the same day. Besides, my sister needs a little traffic and a lot of encouragement.

The Word of God is always an encouragement so I leave Habakkuk 3:17-19 for you today.

17Although the fig tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vines; the labour of the olive shall fail, and the fields shall yield no meat; the flock shall be cut off from the fold, and there shall be no herd in the stalls:
18Yet I will rejoice in the LORD, I will joy in the God of my salvation.
19The LORD God is my strength, and he will make my feet like hinds' feet, and he will make me to walk upon mine high places. To the chief singer on my stringed instruments.

Crucible of Praise

Everyone likes to be praised for a job well done. It is something that comes standard with the package of our humanity. Some folks become praise junkies. They go about doing things just to be recognized and rewarded. Others while they relish the compliments, prefer to remain anonymous in their well doing. Proverbs 27:21 sheds some light upon the power and purpose of praise. The Message states it this way: "The purity of silver and gold is tested by putting them in the fire; The purity of human hearts is tested by giving them a little fame."

I am still learning how to be gracious when receiving compliments. When I know I have done well, I tend to reward myself. Not necessarily in a tangible way, but I just have a deep satisfaction in my labors. Often I am perceived as being ungrateful due to my inadequate responses. In reality, I love the accolades but I don't want to let them swell my head. I am learning to say a simple "thank you" and/or "to God be the glory".

Praise can incite pride or it can work perfection. Pride is the automatic response of the flesh. Perfection is the result of yielding to the Spirit of God. Remember, everything He created is good. The Word says so. Yet there is no goodness about the flesh. It is merely an earthen housing for the Spirit of God. So the Apostle Paul adds that we must keep the flesh under the control of the Spirit.

Basically, I said all of that to preface this huge thank you to Rita at Saved by Grace. She has bestowed upon me the "Nice Matters" award. Let me also add, to God be the Glory, Great Things He Has Done. Without Him, I would be neither nice, friendly, good, positive, or influential.

"This award is for those bloggers who are nice people; good blog friends and those who inspire good feelings. Also for those who are a positive influence on our blogging world. Once you've been awarded please pass it on to 7 others who you feel are deserving of this award."
I have met so many nice bloggers in the few months that I have been in the bloggyhood. Those who are nice are also positive influences in the blogosphere. Inspirational is yet another word for various blogs I have read. "Feel good" blogs are as infinite as the stars in the sky. Finding 7 worthy recipients is easy. Keeping the list to 7 is the hard part. And.......Now........The envelopes please................Ooops! There must be some mistake. I have been handed some bills instead of the nominations for the "Nice Matters" awards. Sorry to disappoint you folks, but the hour is late, the awards will have to wait..... until my next post.

How would they know?

Personality Preview- Bible lesson to follow in upcoming posts.
I picked this up over at Diane's Place . I don't put a lot of stock in crunching numbers and putting a label on someone. I just did this for fun. My sister over at BTIW thought it fit me pretty close.

Here are personalDNA maps that uniquely represent your personality. Mouse over any part of the box or strip to learn more about the traits that the colors represent. According to these folks I am a dynamic leader, but I am short on empathy. Click on the "my personal DNA report" link to read what they had to say about me.

Dynamic Leader

My personalDNA Report I can buy the "leader" part, but I've never thought of myself as dynamic. Guess I should start thinking "Dynamite". Yeah, I have always enjoyed fireworks and blowing things to bits.

The following is an excerpt from the "Leader" portion of my report.
"You're not set on one way of doing things, and you often have the skills and persistence to find innovative ways of facing challenges. You are well-attuned to your talents, and can deal with most problems that you face. Your independent streak allows you to make decisions efficiently and to trust your instincts."


This excerpt is from the "Dynamic" part of my DNA. "You are not overly concerned with what others may think about you, which leaves you free to be thoroughly involved in the world around you. "



I think these excerpts fit me just right. Some of the other stuff is up for debate. The stuff in the "if you want to be different" section is, well, good advice. I think. Take this one for instance. "Those who are as outgoing as you are often need to remind themselves that time alone can be just as fulfilling—take some time for yourself and you might find that there are many things in your inner world that are just as compelling as the world outside your window."

About Me

First and foremost, I am a Christian: born-again and Spirit-filled. I am a servant of God and an active member on the ministry team of Lighthouse of Worship Ministries Inc.
I am a wife and help-meet to my husband hereafter referred to as "Cowboy".
I am the oldest of three siblings. I have two sisters, CHG and KK. I am Aunt Cala to two wonderful nephews. CWGIII belonging to CHG and CLP belonging to KK.

This blog is being born out of a desire to record lesson ideas, brief devotionals, and sermon outlines. Most of which, I have taught on at various times in the past 20 years. Occasionally I will make personal entries but that is not the primary purpose of this blog.

I must also give credit to my sister CHG at http://beneaththeivywreath.blogspot.com
She introduced me to blogging when she invited me to guest write on Wednesdays. She has been one of the driving forces behind the creation of Timeless Text Messages.

Enlarging My Territory

I heard a preacher say recently, "God is doing a new thing". Well, I'm not convinced that God is doing anything more than what He has planned all along; if it is a new thing, then it is just new to mankind. After all, didn't Solomon write, "there is nothing new under the sun". Whatever God is doing, it is good!

On the other hand, what I am doing is certainly new to me. It was only late last year, that I got closely acquainted with the world of the internet. I had always thought it could be addictive and I didn't want to chance it. Now that I have entered the blogosphere I realize it is a wonderful place to visit but not a place to live. I have found it to be both inspiring and educational; and a helpful tool in keeping up with family and friends.

This blog is dedicated to my Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. It is my desire to encourage and edify all who visit here. I am not a professional blogger, so please overlook my grammatical comedies. The opinions found here are my own and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of blogger. I am Sista Cala and I approve this message.