Dark Hour by Ginger Garrett

Dark Hour is the first in the Serpent Moon trilogy by Ginger Garrett. Dark Hour is based on the story of Athaliah, daughter of Jezebel and her desire to rule which leads to vicious attempts to eliminate the House of David. Only a remnant of people serve the true God while most of the others in the kingdom find themselves seduced by Athaliah, her gods and her promises of peace. Athaliah surrenders to the dark side with the shed of innocent blood and heartless betrayal of her own family but a thread of hope remains as God goes about keeping his covenant with His people.

Dark Hour is steeped in such vivid imagery that you will clearly envision Jehoshebeth walking the dusty streets of Judah or navigating the stone corridors of Solomon’s Palace. Besides the great story this was one of the things I enjoyed most about this book; it was so wonderfully written. Look forward to the second part in this trilogy Midnight Throne to be released in September 2007.

Feeling Refreshed

Today we had a day of prayer and fasting as a church and our deliverance service tonight. It was awesome; we searched some scriptures; promises of God in the Word, claimed them as our own and prayed for ourselves, our church, our families and our country. Many were in tears as we cried out in the presence of the Lord. Personally, I feel refreshed. Strengthened. Forgiven. Things I felt were getting the better of me I feel better equipped to handle. Like a cool glass of water on a lonely dessert road, I feel refeshed. Encouraged. Hopeful. Thank you Jesus for that.

P.S. I was thinking today about the house situation today and I remembered a few years ago when we were looking for a bigger place to live after I had gotten a promotion at work (believe it or not at the time seven of us were living in a two-bedroom house. We had found this ideal (in our minds) place to live only to be turned down by the owners. I remember crying at the time because I felt the reason she gave was not reasonable and I felt cheated but God worked it out so we got a nicer place for less money! If He did it once He can do it again!

Disappointed

Disappointing news tonight. My family has until the end October to move from our current home (it’s rented) and we thought we had found the ideal place, close to the children’s schools and the church but we did not we learned tonight that someone else has gotten the place. Right now we don’t have many other options and those we have are apartments. I don’t really like the idea of living in an apartment so we’re hoping something else comes up. I told myself that all things work together for good and I’m holding on to that but I’m still feeling very disappointed. Incidentally (or not) we started studying Hebrews 11 in Bible study tonight (I got the news just before the servie) and as you will know the first verse of this chaper deals with faith. Was God trying to tell me something with this timely word? I think so, so I'm going to trust Him to work this out for me.

FIRST Blog Tour: DARK HOUR

It is October 1st, time for the FIRST Day Blog Tour! (Join our
alliance! Click the button!) The FIRST day of every month we will feature an
author and their latest book's FIRST chapter!

This month's feature author is:

GINGER
GARRETT

Guess what? You can win a free copy of Dark
Hour! Just leave a comment on this post and I will pick the winner from a random draw on Saturday 07 October!

About the author:

Ginger Garrett is an acclaimed
novelist and expert in ancient women's history.

Her first novel, Chosen, was
recognized as one of the best five novels of the year by the Christian
publishing industry. Ginger enjoys a diverse reader base and creates
conversation between cultures.

In addition to her 2006 and 2007
novels about the most evil women in biblical history, she will release
Beauty Secrets of the Bible (published by Thomas Nelson) in Summer
2007.

Ginger Garrett's Dark Hour
delves into the biblical account of Jezebel's daughter and her attempt to
end the line of David.

And now, a
special Q&A with Ginger Garrett:

1.) First, tell us a bit about Dark Hour.

I was praying about what book to write after Chosen, and accidentally
left my open Bible on the kitchen table. (A dangerous thing, since in my
house, small children and large dogs routinely scavenge with dirty
hands and noses for snacks!) As I walked past it, I saw a caption about
someone named Athaliah and a mass murder. I stopped cold. I knew it was my
story.

Athaliah was the daughter of Jezebel--a real woman in
history--who tried to destroy all the descendents of King David in a
massacre. God made a promise that a descendent of King David would always sit
on the throne, and one day a Messiah would come from this line. If
Athaliah succeeded, she would break the promise between God and the people,
and destroy all hope for a Messiah.

One woman, her step-daughter, Jehoshebeth, defied her. She stole a baby
during the massacre and hid him. Between them, the two women literally
fought for the fate of the world.

2.) What drew you to write biblical fiction?

The similarities between the lives of ancient women and our lives. We
get distracted by their "packaging," the way they dressed and lived, but
at heart, our stories are parallel.

3.) How much time is spent researching the novel versus writing the
novel?

Equal amounts, and I don't stop researching while I write. I have a
historical expert, probably the best in the world in his field, review the
manuscript and point out errors. The tough part is deciding when to
ignore his advice. He pointed out that most everyone rode donkeys if they
weren't in the military, but a key scene in the novel involves riding a
horse to the rescue. It would have been anti-climatic to charge in on a
donkey! :) So I ignored his advice on that one.

4.) Dark Hour takes its reader deep into the heart of palace
intrigue and betrayals. Were parts of this book difficult to write?

I left out much of the darkest material I uncovered in research. It was
important to show how violent and treacherous these times and this
woman (Athaliah) could be, but I tried to be cautious about how to do it.
The story was so powerful and hopeful--how one woman's courage in the
face of evil saved the world--but the evil was depressing. I tried to
move quickly past it. I wanted balance. Our heroine suffers and some
wounds are not completely healed in her lifetime. That's true for us, too.

5.) What would modern readers find surprising about ancient
women?

They had a powerful sense of the community of women. They also wore
make-up: blush, glitter eyeshadow, lipstick, powder, and perfume! They
drank beer with straws, and enjoyed "Fritos": ground grains, fried and
salted. Many of our foods are the same today, but they loved to serve pate
made from dried locusts, finely ground. Ugh!

Without further
ado...here is the FIRST chapter of Dark Hour by
Ginger Garrett. Judge for yourself if you'd like to read more!

(There is a prologue before chapter one regarding the birth of
Jehoshebeth... Athaliah is not Jehoshebeth's biological mother.)

c h a p t e r O n e

Fifteen Years Later

HER BARU, the priest of divination, opened the goatskin bag and
spread the wet liver along the floor, leaving a path of blood as he
worked. Retrieving a wooden board and pegs from his other satchel, the
satchel that held the knives and charms, he placed pegs in the board
according to where the liver was marked by fat and disease. He turned the
black liver over, revealing a ragged abscess.

Athaliah covered her mouth and nose with her hands to ward off
the smell but would not turn way.

“Worms,” her sorcerer said, not looking up. He placed more pegs
in the board before he stopped, and his breath caught.

A freezing wind touched them, though they were in the heart of
the palace in the heat of the afternoon. Athaliah cursed this cold thing
that had found her again and watched the sorcerer search for the source
of the chill before he returned to the divination. There was no source
of wind here; in her chamber there was a bed, the table where her
servants applied her cosmetics from ornate and lovely jars shaped like
animals, a limestone toilet, and in the farthest corner so that no one at
the chamber door would see it, her shrine. Statues of Baal, the storm
god, and the great goddess Asherah, who called all life into being, stood
among the panting lions carved from ivory and the oil lamps that burned
at all hours. Here she placed her offerings of incense and oil, and
here she whispered to the icy thing as it worshiped alongside her.

The baru watched as the flames in the shrine swayed, the chill
moving among the gods. The flames stayed at an angle until one began to
burn the face of Asherah. Her painted face began to melt, first her
eyes running black and then her mouth flowing red. He gasped and stood.

“I must return to the city.”

Athaliah stood, blocking him from his satchel.

“What does the liver say?”

“It is not good that I have come. We will work another day.”

She did not move. He glanced at the door. Guards with sharp
swords were posted outside.

“A dead king still rules here. You set yourself against him
and are damned.”

Athaliah sighed. “You speak of David.”

The baru nodded and bent closer so no other thing would hear his
whisper. “There is a prophecy about him, that one from the house of
David will always reign in Judah. His light will never die.”

“I fear no man, dead or living.”

The baru continued to whisper, fear pushing into his eyes,
making them wide. “It is not the man you must fear. It is his God.”

Athaliah bit her lip and considered his words. She wished he
didn’t tremble. It was such a burden to comfort a man.

“Yes, this God. It is this God who troubles us. Perhaps I can
make an offering to Him. You must instruct me. Stay, my friend, stay.”
She patted him on the arm, detesting his clammy flesh. “I have dreamed,”
she confessed. “I have a message from this God, and I must know how to
answer Him.”

The baru took a step back, shaking his head. “What is this
dream?”

“A man,” Athaliah said.

“Tell me.”

“At night, when I sleep and the moon blankets my chamber, I see
a man. He is not as we are: he is coarse and wild. He wears skins hewn
from savage beasts, run round his waist with careless thought, and in
his mind he is always running, ax in hand, running. I feel his thoughts,
his mind churning with unrest, and he knows mine completely. I hear a
burning whisper from heaven and shut up my ears, but he turns to the
sound. A great hand touches him, sealing him for what lies ahead, and
speaks a name I cannot hear, a calling to one yet to be. I try to strike
this man, but all goes red, blankets of red washing down.”

She licked her lips and waited, breathing hard. The baru nodded.

“You see the prophet of Yahweh, Elijah, who plagues your
mother.”

The baru began to reach for his goatskin sack. He picked up the
liver and put it in the sack, keeping an eye on the door as he wiped
his bloody hand on his robes. She knew he was measuring his steps in his
mind, thinking only of freedom from here, and from her.

Athaliah grabbed his arm. “I let those who worship Yahweh
live in peace. They mean nothing to me; what is one God in a
land of so many? Why would this God send a man to make war
on my mother and then claim me also?”

The baru narrowed his eyes. “This God is not like the others.”

“How can we be free of Him?”

The baru thought for a moment then reached into his satchel. He
pulled out a handful of teeth and tossed them on the ground at her
feet. She did not move.

He squatted and read them, probing them with a shaking finger.
She watched as the hair along his neck rose, and goose bumps popped all
along his skin. The cold thing had wrapped itself tightly around him.
She could see his breath.

“There is a child,” he said. “The eye of Yahweh is upon this
child, always. I must counsel you to find this child and kill it, for when
it is gone, Yahweh would trouble you no more.”

Athaliah murmured and ran her teeth over her lips, biting and
dragging the skin as her thoughts worked back in time. “It is my daughter
you speak of. Only a girl. But even so, I cannot kill her yet. I would
lose my rights as the most favored wife. I will not risk my crown for
so small a prize. No, I will find another way to get rid of her, and I
will deal with this threat from Yahweh as I must.”

Athaliah walked to her shrine and cleaned the face of Asherah.
She could hear the baru scooping the teeth back into the bag. She turned
with a sly smile, pleased that her mind worked so quickly even with the
cold thing so near.

“My mother has already angered this God. We will let her have
our problem. She has a talent for these things.”

He had finished putting everything back into his two sacks and
edged toward the door. She wondered if he would return. He was the best
she had at divining dreams and saw in the liver so many answers. She
sighed and tried to think of a word to reassure him.

“A farmer may own the field,” she began, “but much work is done
before a harvest is even planted. Stones are removed, weeds are torn
free. We must break loose the soil and uproot our enemies so the field
will be ready. On that day I will sow richly.”

He managed a weak smile.

“Let your appetite grow, my friend,” she coaxed. “The harvest is
coming.”

He fled so quickly she knew her words had been wasted, as all
words were on frightened men. He would never return.

***

PRINCE JEHORAM nursed a
silver bowl of dark wine and wished the business of inheriting a kingdom
did not involve so much listening. He rubbed his beard, its thick
clinging brown curls now flecked with gray. His beard was weathering his age
better than the hair on his head, he realized, which had already
surrendered to the assault of time, great gray streaks overtaking the brown.
He knew his face was kind, though, not hardened or roughened by his
years, but retaining a boyish appeal in his wry mouth and a small scar
just under his left eye. Any woman could look upon him and see the child
of mischief he once was. All women looked upon him and still thought to
correct him.

He dined in a dim, private room with his advisers. The room was
adjacent to the throne room, where he would one day rule, and was bare,
save for an oil lamp on a low table. Cedar beams topped the limestone
walls, giving the palace a sweet, smoky scent under the afternoon sun.
The men sat around the table, scattered with maps, sharing a lunch of
grapes, bread, wine, and cheese. Normally they would eat more, and in the
dining hall, but the kitchen servants were busy preparing for the great
send-off feast and it was easier to be served here.

Tomorrow, his father, King Jehoshaphat, would lead Judah’s army
north toward Israel and King Ahab. Together, the two kingdoms would
fight their inconstant friend Ben-Hadad to end his trade monopolies.
Ben-Hadad fought alongside them against the cruel Assyrians but turned often
and claimed the richest of trade cities for himself.

“There are implications, my prince,” Ethan said. Ethan was the
tallest, and his skin turned red when he was angry, which was often. His
temper had plagued him since he and the prince were boys, but now
Jehoram no longer found pleasure in goading his friend. “If the kings
succeed at Ramoth-Gilead against Ben-Hadad,” Ethan continued, “and the
proposed alliance is
accepted, your father will have obligations both to the north and
south. In this way, Ahab’s kingdom will be strengthened by this victory, and
your own kingdom will be compromised. Judah may weaken and fall at last
to a king of Israel.”

“I have married the daughter of Ahab,” Jehoram replied. “I have
given their daughter an heir and promised her the crown. I have curried
the favor of the north well enough. They will not turn on me, for their
own daughter is at my side.” He tried to entertain himself with the
food and wine while his advisers prattled on. He wondered what would be
served at the feast tonight. If the servants’ exhausted expressions were
any indication, the spread would be remarkable.

“That is true, my friend,” Ethan said. “But you are wrong to
think this is Ahab’s war. It is a woman who is shaping this new world.
Think on this: What does the powerful Jezebel desire more than to bring
glory to her own name? She wants the north and south reunited so that she
may one day rule them both, a queen equal in power to Solomon.”

Ethan smirked as he continued. “Everyone knows Ahab wears the
crown but Jezebel rules. With Ahab and Jehoshaphat together in battle,
their voices silenced for a time, Jezebel will be listening for yours.
Let her know a lion roars in Judah. We will never be ruled by a woman,
especially one who hides behind her husband’s crown.”

Jehoram listened, running his tongue across his lips, catching a
spot of wine resting just above his lip. Ethan was his truest friend,
if a man about to wear the crown had one, but he was always ready for a
fight. Jehoram preferred to suffer a blow and stay with his women and
wine. He sighed. “Ethan, you look into darkness and see monsters, but I
see only shadows. It has always been this way.”

Ethan frowned. “We are no longer children hunting with our
fathers at night. Listen to me, for I am the voice of God in your ear.”

Jehoram turned his face away and crossed his arms. Then he
sighed and reached for a bowl of grapes and began to eat. He did not like an
empty stomach.

Another adviser bit into some cheese and leaned in. “Mighty
Ethan is right. Jezebel wants to see you on the throne because of your
union with her daughter Athaliah, but she is no ally. Listen to what I tell
you: Something evil here stirs the water and watches.”

“These voices of doom!” Jehoram yelled, slapping his bowl down
on the table so that it spilled. “These voices and whispers, will they
not cease?” He gripped his head and glared at the men. Each had but one
wife and thought to advise him on his many? “You warn me against women,
even my own wife, but they are women and nothing more!”

Ethan scooted closer to him. “Do not play the fool. Athaliah
practices her strange magic and you slip under her spell little by little.
There is still time to save yourself, and the kingdom, if you are
indeed a man and king.”

Jehoram rose and adjusted his robe around his shoulders, staring
down at Ethan.

“Do even my friends turn against me now?” he asked.

“I have always been like a brother to you. I desire nothing but
your good,” Ethan said, rising. Jehoram held his temper and the two men
glared at each other, breathing hard.

The adviser Ornat spoke. “May I address the future king of
Judah?”

Jehoram nodded and sat, returning to his grapes. He glanced at
Ethan and shook his head.

Ornat was new to his inner circle, an adviser Athaliah had
recommended for his influence among the people who did not worship the God
of Judah. She promised his voice would balance the harsh messages the
others always gave. He had long, straight gray hair that always hung as
if he had just come in from the rain. A magnificent bump crowned his
nose, but it was the only remarkable feature about the man, a man who
looked as if he were melting before their eyes.

“Good Jehoram,” Ornat began, “the king knows you are a son who
is not like the father. King Jehoshaphat has conspired with your
brothers to ensure you never take the throne. They plot behind closed doors,
taking their meals without you. I have heard the plans from my spies
among the servants.”

Jehoram felt his stomach churn at the accusation. He would not
allow such ridiculous talk and raised his hand to dismiss the man at
once.

The arrival of Athaliah interrupted them, and all bowed as she
entered.

“Jehoram, I seek your face with a burden on my heart. Hear me
and help me, my lord and husband,” she said.

Jehoram looked at her a moment, his eyes having trouble
adjusting to the light that streamed in when the door had opened. She stirred
something in him, as she had from her first night in the palace,
rain-soaked and announced by thunder, her sheer robes clinging to her tiny
frame. She came bearing boxes of shrines and gods, like the dolls of a
child, and she clung to them even in their bedchamber. She was the only
wife who did not submit to his will, and he had found her exotic. Now she
had grown, but his exotic pet was still wild, shaking off the customs
and manners he tried to teach her. He knew she hungered, but not for
him. His face burned with shame.

“Speak, Athaliah,” he said.

“Your daughter has grown quite pale of late. I have seen this
sickness before.”

Jehoram sat up straight. Sickness in the palace would spread
rapidly, a threat as swift and fierce as any Assyrian.

“What sickness?” he demanded.

Athaliah smiled at him, then at the men reclining.

“Of course you do not understand,” she said. “You are men. You
have tended your kingdom well but neglected to see that your daughter
has come of age.”

Jehoram exhaled and sat back, an indulgent smile on his lips.

“And what remedy does this sickness crave?” he asked.

Athaliah bowed before Jehoram. “She must marry, my lord.”

Jehoram waved his hand, a broad gesture. Here he could be
master.

“I command, then, that she be married. If there is a commander
well thought of, it would be an honor to give a daughter in marriage
just before a battle.”

Athaliah nodded, just once. He felt his victory slipping away.

“I have sent word to the north,” Athaliah said, “to my mother’s
house, that a nobleman from my own home who serves in the ivory palace
of my mother be given her. King Ahab has sent you his favorite
daughter.” She smiled. “Now let us send ours to him. It will be good for
Jehoshebeth to hold your name ever before my father, Ahab. And Jezebel would
relish a granddaughter so near.”

Jehoram stopped and frowned. “It is Jehoshebeth you speak of?
She is a special child to me. I would not have her sent north.”

“But you have given the order that she be married. There is no
one else worthy of her,” Athaliah said.

Jehoram rubbed his chin and pretended to study a map. Finally,
he shook his head. “I must think on this.”

Athaliah bowed low, her eyes closed. “May the God you serve
bless all your decisions, good Jehoram,” she said. She straightened and
looked at the advisers. Jehoram could not bear to see their eyes upon his
bride, the only territory he owned and could not rule. He detected
secrets moving between her and Ornat like a sudden spring bubbling up from
a dark source. Only a few found it distasteful and turned away. Ethan
was the first to scowl and return his glance to the prince.

“I will see you all at the feast tonight,” Athaliah said as she
left.
She wagged a finger at Ornat. “Take care of my good husband.”

Jehoram slouched in his seat and returned to his grapes.

Earthquake

Friday morning around nine our country was rocked by an earthquake that measured 5.5 on the Richter scale. I was standing in the reception area of our department, speaking to a fellow employee when the building began weaving like a drunken Frankenstein. Strangely enough I didn’t panic I just stood still and waited to see what would happen next. I remember recently thinking about the scripture that spoke about not being afraid of evil tidings. I still don’t know how I’ll handle other situations but I think I got a better understanding of what the psalmist was saying. Knowing that God is in control of your life: here and in the hereafter gives you calm in these types of situations because you know you can trust Him. Knowing your name is written in the Lamb’s book of Life gives you confidence to look death in eye because you understand that it can’t hurt you.

When it was over and I was making my way down the stairs to exit alongside the other employees I remember repenting before the Lord for anything that might keep me from Him. I’m sure I’m saved but I know I’m not perfect and there is something about facing such a moment that makes you realise you don’t know what the next will bring. We stayed outside the building on the football field that we have to the back, behind the car park for approximately two hours while engineers checked the building for damage. Afterward they let us back in the building but didn’t dismiss us for the day. A lot of people left though some to check on homes and collect children because most schools were let out early. I called family and friends and everyone was okay so I stuck around. Until around half two when the second quake struck then there was no question of sticking. I picked up my bag and left. I admit I was shaken after the second one because strangely enough I was more surprised at that one. It was a wakeup call really. Even though we live in an area that is threatened by hurricanes and earthquakes we always seem to escape the wrath of these natural disasters. A fact that a lot of people take for granted, believing that God is on our side and nothing bad can happen. It seemed God’s way of saying ‘You don’t know what the next moment might bring.’ If it was a lot of people didn’t hear that message. When we broke for lunch some of my coworkers went out to buy lunch when I called them to find out where they were at they had gone to a nearby restaurant/bar. When they returned it was clear to me that they had been drinking. I know people deal with stress differently but I still hope that on some level they realized the uncertainty of the future.

My prayer: Father, help me to face each moment as if it were my last so that I will always be prepared to meet You. I pray for my country, that we will understand our need for you, collectively and individually. Touch the hearts of those that don’t know You Lord and give them understanding of Your great love. I pray especially for family and friends, still lost in the clutches of the enemy. Open their eyes to the truth and if You can use me in some small way to make this happen, use me Lord. In Jesus’ name I pray. Amen.

Violet Dawn by Brandilyn Collins

Okay, normally I like to do my own review of a book but I haven't finished this one yet! So I've included the post below from the Blog Alliance website to ensure I show that link love!

From September 27th thru the 29th, the Christian Fiction Blog Alliance presents Violet Dawn by Brandilyn Collins.

Violet Dawn, which released in August of this year, is published by Zondervan and is part of Brandilyn's new Kanner Lake series. There are two other books to come...Coral Moon, releasing in March of '07, and Crimson Eve, releasing in September of '07.

You must also stop by and visit Scenes and Beans, the REAL blog for the fictional Java Joint coffehouse in Kanner Lake.

This is a unique marketing tool for the series, involving about 30 other
writers (including several of our CFBA members), and eventually involving readers of the series who want to audition posts.

Now, I've made you wait long enough. The book is classic Brandiln Collins Seatbelt Suspense. It grabs you from the very beginning...


Something sinuous brushed against Paige's knee. She jerked her leg away.

What was that? She rose to a sitting position, groped around with her left hand.

Fine wisps wound themselves around her fingers.

Hair?

She yanked backward, but the tendrils clung. something solid bumped her wrist. Paige gasped. With one frantic motion she shook her arm free, grabbed the side of the hot tub, and heaved herself out.


I'm telling you that this is suspense at it's finest! Brandilyn has a group of friends that she affectionately calls the Big Honkin' Chickens Club, because the women in the group are unnerved by Brandilyn's writing. This new series is a prime example of that kind of work!

Back cover
Paige Williams slips into her hot tub in the blackness of night...and finds herself face to face with death.

Alone, terrified, fleeing a dark past, Paige must make an unthinkable choice.

In Violet Dawn, hurtling events and richly drawn characters collide in a breathless story of murder, the need to belong, and faith's first glimmer. One woman's secrets unleash an entire town's pursuit, and the truth proves as elusive as the killer in their midst.

You can go HERE to read a first chapter excerpt. But using Brandilyn's famous tagline....."Don't forget to breathe..."

Thursday Thirteen #3

Thirteen Things My Mother Taught Me

1. My mother taught me to APPRECIATE A JOB WELL DONE...

"If you're going to kill each other, do it outside. I just finished cleaning."


2. My mother taught me RELIGION...

" You better pray that will come out of the carpet."


3. My mother taught me about TIME TRAVEL...

"If you don't straighten up, I'm going to knock you into the middle of next week."


4. My mother taught me LOGIC...

"Because I said so, that's why."


5. My mother taught me MORE LOGIC...

"If you fall out of that swing and break your neck, you're not going to the store with me."


6. My mother taught me FORESIGHT...

"Make sure you wear clean underwear, in case you're in an accident."


7. My mother taught me IRONY...

"Keep crying, and I'll give you something to cry about."


8. My mother taught me about the science of OSMOSIS...

"Shut your mouth and eat your supper."


9. My mother taught me about CONTORTIONISM...

"Will you look at that dirt on the back of your neck!"


10. My mother taught me about STAMINA...

"You'll sit there until all that spinach is gone."


11. My mother taught me about WEATHER...

"This room of yours looks as if a tornado went through it."


12. My mother taught me about HYPOCRISY...

"If I told you once, I've told you a million times. Don't exaggerate!"


13. My mother taught me the CIRCLE OF LIFE...

"I brought you into this world, and I can take you out."


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In Other Words

"It takes a lot of courage to show your dreams to someone else."
~ Erma Bombech ~

I think Erma is on to something with her quote here. Your dreams say a lot about you, about your innermost hopes and desires. They’re like little children, tender and vulnerable, facing a future as yet unfolded. Showing someone your dreams is like saying ‘This is who I am’, easy for some to do but harder for others. We want people to like us and accept us and I expect that noone wants to be the object of ridicule. Sometimes a dream can seem so out of reach that to share that with someone opens us up to that.

Joseph could tell us a lot about that. He had his dreams and shared them with his family only to be ridiculed and scorned. I imagine that this was hard because we share that secret part of us with those we love and trust. Having them throw it back in our faces with disdain would break that trust.

I think too you need not just courage but self-confidence to share your dreams. It’s easier to put yourself out there when you have accepted who you are and what you want. When I first started to write poetry I just wanted to express myself. I had just gotten saved and was growing in my relationship with God. The anointing was so strong upon me one day, I was at work at my desk and I had these indescribable feelings. I felt God speaking to me but as though the words were just beyond my hearing so I picked up pen and paper and began to write. It wasn’t terribly original, just bits and pieces of scriptures that the Lord was impressing upon my heart really but that’s where I started. It became my outlet to my experience with God and what I wanted to say to Him and vice versa. It was something I hid for long time because it was so personal. I felt like giving someone any to read was like handing my heart over on a silver platter. Not an easy thing to do. So I’d usually keep it to myself for a while and when I became comfortable with it myself, it was easier to share.

So I think self-confidence is important and not just confidence in ourselves but also confidence in God. The fact is that we 'can do all things through Christ' and 'with God all things are possible'. The question then is whether our dream is the will of God and ultimately if we will trust Him to accomplish it.

Days of the Week

I got this in an e-mail and I had to share.


Monday : Wash Day
Lord, help me wash away all my selfishness and vanity, so I may serve you with perfect humility through the week ahead.



Tuesday:Ironing Day
Dear Lord, help me iron out all the wrinkles of prejudice I have collected though the years so that I may see the beauty in others.



Wednesday : Mending Day
O God, help me mend my ways so I will not set a bad example for others.



Thursday : Cleaning Day
Lord Jesus, help me to dust out all the many faults I have been hiding in the secret corners of my heart.



Friday : Shopping Day
O God, give me the grace to " shop " wisely so that what I "choose" will bring eternal happiness for myself and all others in need of love.



Saturday : Cooking Day
Help me, my Savior, to brew a big kettle of brotherly love and serve it with clean, sweet bread of human kindness.




Sunday : The Lord's Day
O! God, I have prepared my house for you. Please come into my heart so I may spend the day and the rest of my life in your presence.

Grande Riviere Trip

Since today was a holiday (Republic Day) some members of our church went to Grande Riviere. We normally go there for Independence Day (August 31) but this year we ended up going a little later. It’s a wonderful place, really. When you get there, to your left is a river and to your right is the ocean. What more could a person want? We’re thinking of camping out on the beach for Carnival next year. I think it will be so great especially since the beach has a public resort with bathroom facilities (I bet you can tell I’m not much of a nature girl, huh?). We had a brief service when we arrived and then enjoyed ourselves soaking in the sun, sea and sand.

I can’t swim but I did learn to float today. Yeah! It takes a lot of faith to do that, doesn’t it? Anyway, I had a great time. And to think I didn’t want to go. On the way back the maxi driver put on a Donnie McClurkin CD and it was really beautiful worshipping God and watching the sun set along the coast. I can’t wait for next year!

P.S. You ever notice how after a day at the beach you can almost feel the water lapping over you when you lie down to sleep? I always feel that way. I think it's so cool! :D

Fall Into Reading Challenge

I was scrolling through the Thursday Thirteen posts when I came upon the Fall into Reading Challenge on Blessed Beyond Measure. Being a reading addict/junkie/fanatic (take your pick) of course I decided to join. I mostly read fiction so for me the real challenge would be to finish the non-fiction books on my list.

The challenge originated from Callapidder Days and you can find out more about the challenge and how you can join here.

Below is my list

Non-Fiction
1. Cover to Cover (Through the Bible as it happened) – Selwyn Hughes and Trevor J. Partridge
2. My Spiritual Inheritance – Juanita Bynum
3. Experiencing the Presence of God – Charles Finney
4. Captivated - John & Stasi Eldredge
5. The Believer’s Handbook – Lester Sumrall
6. Blue Like Jazz – Donald Miller
7. Single, Sassy and Satisfied - Michelle McKinney Hammond

Fiction

8. Return – Karen Kingsbury
9. Rejoice – Karen Kingsbury
10. Reunion – Karen Kingsbury
11. Violet Dawn – Brandilyn Collins
12. Violette Between – Alison Strobel
13. The Last Sin Eater – Francine Rivers
14. Unafraid – Francine Rivers
15. Dark Hour – Ginger Garrett
16. Coldwater Revival - Nancy Jo Jenkins
17. Fame - Karen Kingsbury

Something That Lasts

Everyone has been the victim of bad choices; our own and those of others. Some may barely cause a blip on our radar, but then again, some take on life-changing proportions we seem helpless to avoid. In Something that Lasts, Reverend David Parst is confronted with a decision and his choice is one that will influence his family for decades to come.

James David Jordan weaves a tale of love, betrayal and loss that will grip you from beginning to end. You will want to ask the question ‘What would Jesus do?’ but will find yourself wondering, ‘What would I have done?’

In this first offering by James David Jordan, you will journey with the Parst family as they strive to overcome the past and look into the future to find, Something that Lasts.

Thirteen Things to Smile About This Week

Thirteen Things to Smile About This Week



1. I’m alive – Reason enough for me
2. Celebrating the 8th year anniversary of my baptism on the 20th September.
3. Pay raise.
4. Tuesday night service was really awesome
5. I can’t remember the last time I had a really bad hair day
6. I bought myself a new Bible to celebrate #2.
7. One of my bosses complimented me on my good work.
8. Monday is a holiday! Can anyone say ‘long weekend’?
9. Season premiere of Grey’s Anatomy
10. I don’t have to work this weekend
11. Tuesday was the birthday of one of the leaders in church so this Friday we're having a Par-tay!
12. Did I mention Monday will be a holiday?
13. Did I also mention I’m going to the beach?



Links to other Thursday Thirteens!

1. (leave your link in comments, I’ll add you here!)


Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!


The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

View More Thursday Thirteen Participants

We Ting Wednesday

Folklores and Fables

Our culture is filled with lots of superstitions, myths and fables. Growing up, one of the most frightening folklore for a child was the douens. A douen is thought to be the evil spirit of a child that has died before he/she has been christened (baptized). They have no faces and their feet are turned backwards. They walk around naked and have large straw hats that hide their faces. For the most part they are thought to be found playing in forests and near rivers. They approach children that are not baptized and try to lure them away with them. They can also be identified by the eerie ‘whoop whoop’ sound they make.

As a child I remember being very frightened for one of my cousins who had never been baptized as a baby. Living in a country area, especially with my house right next to a ‘bamboo patch’ the whoop whoop sound was no stranger to me. Especially late in the evening and into the night. So after a certain hour, baptism or no baptism, this little girl found herself inside out of harm’s way.

As an adult I wonder at the veracity of this tale. Being a Christian I do believe in evil spirits but if the accounts of those who’ve claimed to have encountered these beings are to be believed then I don’t think they are in fact the spirits of children who have died without the benefit of baptism they encountered but maybe just an evil spirit.

Sacred and Ordinary

One of the most important things I hold sacred is my relationship with God. On reading this week’s quote I tried to reconcile the statement of the writer. How can something be sacred and ordinary at the same time? This lead me into thinking about my present relationship with God and what I would really like it to be. In so doing the words ‘sacred’ and ‘ordinary’ capture the very essence of my desire.

I want the type of relationship where I am always in His presence. When I say in His presence I don’t mean the outer court or the inner court but the very Holiest of Holies. To me that’s sacred. And I don’t want to be in that place once a year like the High Priest of Old Testament times but I want this to be the norm in my life. My status quo so to speak; my ‘everyday’ experience with God. I think too that heaven will be like this. Imagine the reality of walking with God in His fullness everyday. I want my little piece of heaven down here though while I wait for the totality that is to come.

Squat by Taylor Field

Jesus said, “…the poor you have with you always…”. In Squat, the new release of Taylor Field and current feature of the Christian Fiction Blog Alliance, we are thrust into the lives of ‘the forgotten ones’, people that we walk pass and ignore daily or dismiss by the toss of a coin.

Back Cover
In the shadow of Wall Street’s wealth, homeless citizens with names like Squid, Saw, and Bonehead live in abandoned buildings known as "squats" where life is hand to mouth, where fear and violence fester. The light in lovable Squid’s obsessive-compulsive mind’s eye is Rachel, a loving soup kitchen missionary who tells him about faith and unfaith, hypocrisy and justice, the character of God and finding identity in Him.

But among the squats and so many other abandoned lives, will such talk be enough to make Squid believe that his life may actually amount to something?

Read the first chapter

Bonus: Read the second chapter

You know you want to so buy the book.

We Ting Wednesday

A Taste of Trini Tongue

Like all people we have our own dialect or slang that is unique to our particular culture. Supposedly we're speaking the Queen’s English but really, we more often than not, write the Queen’s English and speak something else entirely. These are just some words we use that are not strictly 'English'.


Allyuh – what we really mean to say is all of you

Ent? – translated: isn’t that so? Or don’t you think so?

Harden – means willfully disobedient. Lots of little children and teenagers have heard this one. For example, a mother of rebellious children, at the end of her rope may exclaim, “Why allyuh children (pronounced chirren) harden so?”

fas – inquisitive, nosy, prying,. When someone calls you ‘fast’ it means it means you goin’ too far up in de people business.

frontish – always wanting to be the center of attention

Cell Phones vs Bible

I receceived this in an e-mail and just had to share.

I wonder what would happen if we treated our Bible the way we do our cell phones.

What if we carried it around in our purses or pockets?

What if we turned back to go get it if we forgot it?

What if we flipped through it several times a day?

What if we used it to receive messages?

What if we treated it like we couldn't live without it?

What if we gave it to our kids as gifts?

What if we used it as we traveled?

What if we used it in case of emergency?

What if we upgraded it to the latest version?

Oh, and one more thing: Unlike our cell phones, we don't have to worry about our Bible being disconnected because Jesus already paid the
bill.

A Fixed Heart

Rumours that there was a gas shortage drove many vehicle owners into panic-buying mode this weekend. Long lines formed at gas stations with some motorists waiting hours for fuel. I heard of this morning on a radio talk show while on my way to work. I spent a most relaxing day on Saturday, never leaving my house at all. Hearing the hosts debate the verity of these rumours I was reminded of Psalm 112:7 which says, “He shall not be afraid of evil tiding; his heart is fixed, trusting in the Lord.” (KJV)

How many times when faced with situations do we panic instead of trusting in God. We rush out to try and fix the situation like those people hurrying to fill up their tanks, not stopping to ask God’s input in the situation. Or even just trusting him to make things right. The prophet Elijah when he heard Queen Jezebel wanted to kill him found his heart not fixed on God and he ran and hid, not trusting in the Lord that had just done great wonders for him.

What has God done for you in the past? What has He promised to do? Will you trust Him when there are rumours of employees being laid off on the job or the doctor think s there’s something serious wrong with you? Will you still trust Him if the rumours turn out to be true?

Personally, I’ve often wondered how I would deal with these types of situations. My only answer is to get closer to God. I figure if I get close enough to Him, in my times of trouble I’ll be sure that He’s there. With Him by my side I know I can get through anything.

Books, books and more books....

I had such a great day today. Finally, I made my way to Logos II which has been in Trinidad for the past couple of weeks. Books, books and more books! I was in heaven! In spite of the mad crush of people and lack of air-conditioning. I got three great books I can’t wait to get into: Experiencing the presence of God by Charles Finney, The Believer’s Handbook by Lester Sumrall and Captivating by John and Stasi Eldridge. This last book I’ve heard so much good things about, I can’t wait to read it.

You didn’t that was all I bought did you? I sort of went crazy in the ‘grab bag’ section which had most of the fiction books. Christian fiction! A rare commodity in this country let me tell you. Usually I buy books off eBay or Christianbook.com and have them shipped here so this was a great treat for me. Authors like Francine Rivers, Karen Kingsbury and Randy Alcorn to name a few. I only ‘discovered’ Christian fiction last year (wonderful thing the internet!) and just in time too, so I knew what authors to look for there.

I don’t think I mentioned it before but Logos II is a ship and I took these pictures through and open space between two shelves (speaking of which I’m thinking I might need more of those).

All in all a wonderful day. Below are some pictures I took of the view from the boat.

Thurday Thirteen

This is my first thirteen post and I decided to take up the challenge issued last week by Denise

Thirteen Things I Like About ME 1. I said yes to Jesus. The most important decision I've ever made and I'm glad I made it 2. I'm responsible 3. My hands - People always tell they're so small: makes me feel very female 4. Children like me - I hear they're good judge of characters 5. I'm really a very non-violent person 6. I'm smart. Honest. 7. Vivid imagination (can be trouble sometimes though :D) 8. Sense of humour 9. Humble 10. Good listener 11. Color - I'm comfortable in my skin (at least in this area) 12. Mole at the top right hand corner of lips 13.Tactful Links to other Thursday Thirteens! 1. tracie 2. mommyba 3. francesca gray 4. barbara

Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!

The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!
View More Thursday Thirteen Participants

'We Ting' Wednesday

Being a patriotic sort I wanted to take the opportunity to share a little about my country; our customs and practices and so forth. I had a light bulb moment and decided to blog once a week some interesting fact about the beautiful twin island republic I call home. Thus ‘We Ting’ Wednesdays was born.

It’s always best to start at the beginning, so let me first say that Trinidad and Tobago was discovered by Christopher Columbus in 1498. Our name came about because of the three mountaintops Columbus first saw that he named La Trinity. As a matter of fact the highest award given out in the country is called the Trinity Cross. For now anyway. There have been a lot of arguments in recent times about the fact that this name has a Christian origin with moves being made to get the government to change it. Objectively, I can understand the need of other religious groups to feel represented but as a Christian I’m glad for this symbol of God and Christianity at the highest levels of the nation.

Confession

I started reading 1 John this morning and this verse jumped out at me

“If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” 1 John 1:9 (KJV)

Admitting to a wrong is never easy. It takes a lot of courage to admit you were wrong and in this case, not just wrong, but have sinned. Maybe that’s why it’s so important. It forces you to face what you’ve done and own up to it. Not always an easy task, facing the truth, ugly as it can sometimes be. If I remember correctly one of my lecturers said that confessing is saying about your sin what God says about it.

On second thought I think it takes more than courage sometimes to own up to your mistakes, it takes relationship. When you know God intimately you know He wants to forgive you. It’s hard, because you know you’ve disappointed Him but the desire to make things right overrides any other emotion.

The beauty about this is that it is cathartic. When we confess, God cleans and heals. He doesn’t leave us broken and wounded. He binds up our wounds and puts us back together, the way He would have us to be.

No More Excuses

• Jonah ran from God
• Naomi was a widow
• Job went bankrupt
• John the Baptist ate bugs
• Peter denied Christ
• The Disciples fell asleep while praying
• Martha worried about everything
• Mary Magdalene was, well you know
• The Samaritan woman was divorced, more than once
• Zaccheus was too small
• Paul was too religious
• Timothy had an ulcer...AND
• Lazarus was dead! ...

no more excuses now. God can use you to your full potential.
Besides you aren't the message ... you are just the messenger.

Be encouraged.

FIRST Day Blog Tour

It is September 1st, time for the FIRST Day Blog Tour! (Join our
alliance! Click the button!) The FIRST day of every month we will feature an
author and their latest book's FIRST chapter!

This month's feature author is:

Taylor Field

"We live in a squat. We don’t know
squat. We don’t have squat. We don’t do squat. We don’t give a squat.
People say we’re not worth squat."

Taylor Field has worked since 1986 in the inner
city of New York where he is pastor of East Seventh Baptist
Church/Graffiti Community Ministries. He holds a M.Div. from Princeton
and Ph.D. from Golden Gate Baptist Theological Seminary. Among his
previous books is the award-winning Mercy Streets. Field and his family
live in New York, New York.

If you want to know more, please visit
The SQUAT Website!

To order Squat, click HERE.

Author interview contact is Andrea Irwin at Broadman &
Holman.

Please Note:

All author proceeds from Squat will go to Graffiti Community
Ministries, Inc., a service arm of the East Seventh Street Baptist
Church on the Lower East Side of Manhattan where Field preaches.

Back Cover
Copy:

In the shadow of Wall Street’s wealth, homeless
citizens with names like Squid, Saw, and Bonehead live in abandoned
buildings known as "squats" where life is hand to mouth, where fear and
violence fester. The light in lovable Squid’s obsessive-compulsive mind’s
eye is Rachel, a loving soup kitchen missionary who tells him about
faith and unfaith, hypocrisy and justice, the character of God and finding
identity in Him.

But among the squats and so many other abandoned lives, will such talk
be enough to make Squid believe that his life may actually amount to
something?

CHAPTER 1

CALMLY, THE GIRL on the sofa reached out and pulled up a flap of skin
on the little boy’s thin arm. It could have been a gesture of affection.
But then she pinched the skin and twisted it. Hard.

“Ouch!” He whipped his pencil in front of her face once, like a club,
and then cracked it on her forehead. He pulled the pencil back, ready to
strike her again, crouching against the back of the couch like a
cornered weasel.

The little girl wrinkled up her round freckled face but did not cry
out. She looked toward her mom, who was talking to the receptionist. The
boy’s mom, seated across the room, didn’t look up. She continued to look
through the pages of her magazine, snapping each page like a whip.

“You could have put my eye out!” the freckled girl hissed.

The boy rubbed the two blue marks on his arm. He looked her steadily in
the eyes and growled.

His mom called him over. “Come sit by me, honey, and stop making so
much noise.” She patted his hair down in the back and smiled at him. She
wore lots of eyeliner and widened her eyes to make even sitting in a
waiting room seem like an adventure. “You’re such a big man, now,” she had
said this morning as she combed his hair and helped him put on his best
shirt. She was humming “Getting to Know You” even though her voice
quivered just a little. She had put a lot of extra perfume and sprays on
this morning. She smelled like the women’s aisle in a drugstore.

Once the little girl’s mom finished with the receptionist and returned
to the sofa, the little girl started crying with one soft, unending
whine.

The boy rolled his eyes and looked for a book to bury his head in.

“What’s wrong, honey?” the mom asked as she swept her little girl up.

“That boy hit me.”

A stuffy silence reigned in the waiting room except for the
sound of the bubbles in the aquarium above the magazine table. The girl’s
mother glared at the boy and then at his mother. The boy picked up a
children’s book with some torn pages and began studying it seriously. His
mom hadn’t been listening to the girl. She was still snapping through
the magazine’s pages.

Finally, she threw it down with disgust and looked at her watch again.
“I’m going outside to smoke a cigarette, honey,” she said, oblivious to
the stares of the mother and daughter across the room. She stood up,
adjusted her dress with an efficient tug, and stepped outside the office.
They gaped at her departure with their mouths open, like two goldfish.

The aquarium continued to gurgle. In the following silence, the little
boy became dramatically interested in the book in front of him. It had
been pawed over by a lot of children waiting in this doctor’s office,
and the first few pages had been torn out. The pages that remained had
rounded corners and smudges along the edges. The little boy squinted his
eyes in exaggerated concentration. He preferred the smudged pictures to
the astonished fish eyes of the adult across the room.

He studied a picture of a man who wore a robe down to his ankles. He
had a beard and a sad look in his eyes. In front of him was a young man
with no beard, lying on a stone with his hands tied. The man with a
beard had a knife in his hand and had his hand raised high up as if he were
going to stab the boy. Out of a cloud an angel was reaching out to grab
the hand of the man. The angel hadn’t touched the man yet, but his hand
was getting close. The man didn’t yet know that the angel was there.

The boy forgot about the girl and her mother. The color of the man’s
robe was so deep and blue. The angel’s wings were more gold than his
mother’s best bracelet. The boy on the stone had a robe that was
silvery-white like clouds. The sun in the background was redder than any sun he
had ever seen. It was as red as a hot dog. The little boy felt he was
swimming in this world of rich colors and robes, a sleepy world tempered
by the sound of the bubbles in the doctor’s aquarium. The boy put his
finger above the picture book, to the right of the book, and then to the
left of the book. “One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three,”
he whispered to himself, touching each of the three points three times.

His mom opened the door and came back in. The summer heat from outside
reached in to bathe him in warmth. She shut the door with exasperation.
She sat down beside him, reeking of cigarette smoke and hair spray. She
adjusted his collar and gave him a nervous smile. “You’re such a big
man now,” she said and patted his hair again.

The boy pointed to the man in the robe in the picture. “Mom, is that
boy that man’s son?”

“I don’t know, honey.” She picked up the same magazine again and
started ripping through it at lightning speed.

“What’s he doing with the knife, Mom?”

His mom gave a half smile and looked at the picture absentmindedly.
“He’s protecting his boy from someone who might hurt him. Stay still,
honey. Why is the doctor making us wait so long? If he doesn’t see us by
twelve, we’ll have to leave. He ought to pay us for making us wait.”

The boy studied the picture again.

“That’s Abraham, stupid,” the little girl stage-whispered from across
the room.

The boy looked at her and scowled. “Yeah, like you know.”

She stuck her tongue out at him and turned it upside down.

His mom backhanded a few more pages, put the magazine down, and looked
him in the eyes. She beamed. “Honey, I have a surprise for you. I’ve
been waiting to tell you, and I’ve been looking for the right moment. I
guess no moment is really the right moment. At 12:15 today we are going
to see Sammy again. He’s come back. He’ll be waiting for us at our
place. Isn’t that exciting? Everything will be different. You’ll be nice to
him, won’t you? Honey, don’t bite your thumbs, you’ll make them bleed
again.”

The boy wouldn’t look at his mom. He stared down at the picture of the
man with the knife. Then he looked up at the clock above the
receptionist. The little hand was close to the twelve and the big hand was on the
eight. He turned the page of the book and another page was torn out.
The next page after the torn one had a picture of a man sleeping with his
head on a rock. He didn’t have a beard and he looked scared. His robe
was a dull gray and looked dirty, but in the background, angels were
coming up and down out of the sky on a shimmering stairway.

“I want to camp out on my own like this guy does, away from everybody,
away from the house,” he told his mom.

“That’s sweet, honey,” she said as she finished the magazine again and
looked at her watch.

The little boy’s lips moved as he carefully scrutinized the words
beneath the picture of the man camping out. His eyes got wider. He traced a
word with his finger. He almost forgot where he was. “I want to be like
this guy,” he whispered.

A man in a suit breezed in and talked to the receptionist. Immediately
his mom sat up straighter. The man finished with the receptionist and
turned around and looked for a seat. His mom widened her eyes and smiled
at the man. He smiled back.

The next page of the book was also torn out. On the following page was
the best picture of all. A youth was wearing a beautiful robe with many
different stripes of colors. He seemed so happy and looked as though
nothing bad would ever happen to him. A man with a white beard was
smiling next to him in the picture. The boy stared at the colors in the book
for a long time. If he focused his eyes beyond the page, the colors
blurred together like rainbow ice cream. Somehow looking at it kept his
stomach from hurting so badly.

“Mom, I want a coat like this one.”

His mom looked at the picture for a moment. Her tone sounded much more
patient with him now that the new man was in the waiting room.
“Everybody wants a coat like that, honey. You’ll get yours one day.”

The little girl stretched her freckled face up as high as she could so
she could see the picture. “That’s Joseph, you toad,” she said hoarsely
from across the room. “Don’t you ever go to church?”

Her mother pulled her back close to her lap and said, “Hush.”

The boy looked at the clock. The big hand was on the nine. “Mom,
let’s just stay here. It’s nice and cool and our air conditioner
doesn’t work at home. I like looking at the books here. I like the fish.
Let’s just stay here and not go back home. It’s too hot there.”

His mom looked at her watch again. “Why are your hands so clammy,
sweetie? You’re making the book wet. What’s wrong with you? Stop biting your
thumb or you’ll make it bleed right before we see the doctor. Do you
want to get me into even more trouble?” She smiled at the man as she got
up and walked past him to the receptionist. “Could you tell me how much
longer it will be until we can see the doctor? I have another urgent
appointment.” She conferred with the receptionist for a few minutes in
hushed tones.

The boy found an envelope in the back of the book with all the colorful
pictures. It had bright green writing on it and a red border. The
envelope said you could send off for more books with other stories. The boy
looked up at the little girl across the room. She was yanking on her
mother’s sleeve and whispering something in her ear. She was probably
talking about the boy’s mom. While making sure the girl was still looking
at her own mom, he carefully folded the envelope once and put it in his
jean pocket.

The girl was staring insolently at him again. He wanted to do something
to the book. He wanted to add a character to protect the boy from the
father with the knife. He reached in his other pocket and pulled out
half a red crayon. He wanted to draw a picture in the book. He wanted to
put someone in there to help that angel keep that boy from getting cut,
but he knew that the girl on the opposite couch would never let him get
away with drawing in the book. He pulled out his stack of baseball
cards as she continued to stare. He carried only Yankees. He pulled his
prize Reggie Jackson card from the stack and began to place it in the book
but decided against it. He pulled out a relief pitcher, Dick Tidrow. He
would be a good enough guard to help the angel. Then he put the card
carefully in the page where the sad man was dressed in the long robe and
holding the knife. He made sure that the edge of the card was exactly
parallel to the edge of the book. He knew the girl was watching him. He
closed the book very slowly and with great respect. Very quietly, with
just one finger, he touched three sides of the book again, three times.
“One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three,” he said under his
breath. He put the book down gently on the table and then put both
hands on his stomach and doubled over until his head touched his knees. A
groan came out of him before he knew it.

The little girl sneered at him, “You’re nuts!” Her mom held her closer
and made a shushing sound.

The boy looked at the clock again as his mom plopped down on the sofa
with a snort. The big hand was already past the eleven. “Mom, let’s stay
here. We’ve already waited a long time. Let’s stay.”

“Straighten up, sweetie. Why are you bent over? Everything is going to
be fine. Soon we will see Sammy and everything will be different. It
won’t be like last time. You’ll see. Everything will be fine.” She looked
at her watch again then got up to talk to the receptionist. She seemed
to be talking faster and faster. Finally she marched back to her son
and said firmly, “We’re going now. We’ll have to come back another day.
Let’s go, honey. Straighten up and stop frowning.”

She grabbed his hand, but he grabbed the arm of the sofa with his other
hand. The arm of the sofa had padding on the top, but a metal support
on the side. It was just right for grabbing. She pulled and his knuckles
whitened. “Come on, sweetie, don’t be silly.” She smiled at the man and
the other mother. She was petite and could not get her son to loosen
his grip. He was small for an eleven-year-old, but his grasp was almost
as strong as his mother’s. She reached to loosen his grip with her hand,
but he simply grabbed the arm of the sofa with his other hand.

She smiled sweetly to the man and said, “Would you mind helping me,
please?”

He hesitated, got up awkwardly, and began to loosen the grip of the
other hand. The aquarium began to rumble like a volcano, and both the
receptionist and the other mother stood up. The boy was stretched out like
a cartoon as the mother pulled and the man pried his fingers from the
sofa. In the middle of the hubbub, the little girl came up to hold his
torso, as if to protect him from falling. Where her mother couldn’t see,
she grabbed the sensitive skin next to his ribs and pulled and twisted
at the same time as hard as she could.

In the tussle, the book with the men in robes fell to the floor and the
little girl slipped on it. The baseball card slid underneath the sofa.
The receptionist picked up the phone to call someone. The other mother
grabbed for her daughter. The little boy squealed a high squeal; he was
a desperate guinea pig grabbed by many hands.

Finally, the man got both hands loose, and his mom dragged him by the
torso and opened the door. He clutched at the frame of the door but
couldn’t hold on. By that time, some people in white coats came out with
the receptionist and shouted as his mom dragged him out to the steaming
parking lot. His mother roared back at them with a curse. He cried and
whimpered for help as he got one last glimpse of the girl looking out at
him from the waiting room window. She stood with her hands on her hips
and her tongue sticking out.

Until he ran away from home, a number of years later, the little boy
never went back to a doctor.

Deja Vu

I lead the worship in last Tuesday night’s service. While I was at the front of the church singing, I noticed a young lady standing in the congregation and I had such a feeling of déjà vu. As she stood there looking all belligerent and resentful it took right back to that first cell meeting I had gone to where God impacted my life so deeply. I had been spending a few days with my aunt and she had insisted that I go. I was not pleased. One of my favorite shows ‘The Nanny’ with Fran Drescher was on that night and I didn’t want to miss it.

When we arrived at the cell meeting the group was already on their knees, repenting before God, as was their practice before beginning the deliverance service. I slipped in the back of the room and tried to blend into the background, as was my practice. The leader, a prophetess, was praying out loud when suddenly she was saying, ‘The Lord is saying to someone here, I didn’t ask you to be here and no-one is forcing you to stay here. If you don’t want to be here you can leave.’ The words hit me like a sledgehammer to my chest. Fear and awe formed a tight ball in my chest and I found myself on my knees along with everyone else. By the end of the service when she prayed for me and ministered the words of God into my heart, I would never be the same again. Noone knew that it was me that the Lord had spoken to BUT I KNEW. Being the object of God’s attention was addictive and I wanted to be closer to this God that would speak so plainly to His people.

Reflecting on this moment I realized something very important. Some may look at these words as a harsh correction, even rejection but looking back I was able to see the hurt. It may be hard to accept that we have the ability to hurt God’s feelings but we do. As humans we would also be hurt if someone we loved felt forced or resentful being in our presence. How much more could our heavenly Father feel? He who sent His only Son to die for our sins? To think He loved me so much even then!

We didn’t have an altar call after the service but I hope I’ll get to church one day and see that young lady, happy and smiling to be in the presence of the Lord.

“But I have prayed …” (Luke 22:31-32 Pt2)

My sister Venieca got her CXC results today. For the uninformed, in the Carbbean, this is something akin to the American High School Diploma. Passing five subjects is considered a ‘full certificate’. She wrote seven subjects and passed all, gaining distinctions in some subjects. We are so proud of her. She was so happy and excited that she couldn’t wait to get to church to testify of God’s goodness to her. One subject in particular, ‘Principles of Accounts’, she was quite sure she had failed.

What does this have to do with the scripture quoted above? I was impressed by my sister’s eagerness to attribute her success to God. Do we always do that? Acknowledge God for his participation in our triumphs, be they in life, business or our spiritual walk?

In Luke 22:31-32 Jesus tells the disciples that the devil has desired to sift them as wheat. His next words were “But I have prayed that thy faith fail not…” When our lives are surrendered to Christ He is always acting on our behalf (Romans 8:26, 27, 34). As I read them, these words are a great comfort to me because they tell me that Christ is interceding on my behalf. You see, to me what the Lord is saying goes something like this, “Listen Simon, your enemy the devil wants to test/tempt you. He will get his chance but don’t worry. I have already prayed and dealt with the situation.” (KNV – Kell-Ann’s New Version).

Hallelujah! God has dealt with our situations. I was talking here about things happening in the spiritual that we don’t always know about but we see their effects in the natural. God is always working for us, fighting our battles and so forth. So when we receive blessings and we are victorious in different areas of our lives, we should do as my sister did and thank God because sometime in the past He has prayed…

Tick Tock ...

"I thought about the whole notion of "reproduction," and what it really means to replicate yourself. Is it merely about the passing on of eyes and chins and hair color? Or is it, rather, the replication of the heart? Do we leave a bigger mark by passing on our genes, or our thoughts?"~ Shannon Woodward, author ofInconceivable: Finding Peacein the Midst of Infertility ~

Tick tock, tick tock. If I listen carefully I’m sure I’ll hear the unmistakable sound of my biological clock ticking away. Not foghorn loud of course but loud enough to remind me that Ill never see twenty-five again (except as some sort of anniversary maybe). I know I’m far from over the hill but I had always envisioned having a family at a young age. However, my mothering instincts are not wasted since I am the oldest of six daughters (yep lots of estrogen in my household :D).

My youngest sister, Arielle is eight years old. When she was born I was just out of high school and I remember taking care of her for the first few months of her life while I was looking for a job. Not exclusively, of course but I was her unofficial nanny. I fed her, bathed her, took her for walks and defended her still bald head. I read books and agonized over when she should begin eating solid foods; planned her daily menus and so on. It’s not that my mother was neglectful or unloving but my heart clave to the child and instead of being hers she was ours.

Recently Arielle raised her hands in church when our Pastor asked for those wanting to be baptized. I was so happy. No just for the obvious reasons but I remembered something that the Lord had spoken to me the year before. In our yearly thanksgiving service someone had remarked that seeing us together they could easily believe that I’m her mother or some such thing. Laughing she had thrown her arms around me and cried “Mama”. I laughed myself but in the wake of the moment the Lord spoke to me saying that, in fact, that is what I was to her. Not biologically, but spiritually He had entrusted the care and development of this child to me. I was impressed with the seriousness of this responsibility and resolved to do my best. That little upraised hand was a signal to me that inspite of my own failings He was still able to move in the life of this child. She has a lot of life left to live but I’m assured that right now she is on the right path

I may never have kids of my own but the influence that I have in my sister’s lives (both my parents are unsaved) and the difference I have made in them by just making sure they go to church and listen God’s word has been rewarding. I may never look into a young pair of eyes and see my own but I think the best part of being a parent is the molding of a young heart to be just like Christ’s. What’s more important than that?

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!!

Today is my sister Venieca's birthday. She's seventeen. Seems like just yesterday she was a little scrap of a thing running around and getting on my nerves :D.

Now she's all grown up (almost) and spending hours on the phone talking to the enemy - cough- um- I mean, boys.

Happy Birthday sweetheart. I hope the day was great for you. Stay as sweet as you are always. I'm off to polish my shotgun. Have a goodnight.

I Taste Like Him!

Salt, when dissolved in water, may disappear, but it does not cease to exist.We can be sure of its presence by tasting the water. Likewise, the indwelling Christ, though unseen,will be made evident to others from the love which He imparts to us.”~ Sadhu Sundar Singh ~

I’ve always been really shy. I’ve come a long way (with age) but still if given half a chance I will try to stay in the background (the proverbial wallflower) and hope that under no circumstances will I become the center of attention. That’s my biggest problem with public speaking; the idea of all those eyes focused on me always made me want to dive under the nearest table and hide. One wouldn’t expect that God would call someone like me to preach the gospel but such is my mission in life. I like to think of that verse of scripture that says that he uses the foolish things of the world to confound the wise because it seems foolish that God would call mousy ole me to spread His Word. I like also that He gets the glory. When people taste of me they know it’s not me but God in me that they taste. Personally, I like to be like that salt that has dissolved water and seemed to have disappeared.

I saw a message by Bishop T.D. Jakes on Sunday and his message was that there are people that are normally in the corner (I can relate) but now God is calling those people out of their corners and into the spotlight. He does that to us. His presence in our lives can hardly be hid. We are the salt and He brings people to us so that through us they can taste of Him. The Bible says that a person wouldn’t put a light under a bushel but on a mountaintop for all to see. For all my shyness I feel that way too. Having Christ in me I want the entire world to know about Him and know that I have Him. All that He has taught me I want to share with the world. The love He has shown me I want to share with the world in whatever way I can. This provides a balance to my shyness I think and is allowing me to put myself out there when my natural self just wants to dissolve in the background. To God be the glory!

More Than The Eye Can See (Luke 22:31-32 Pt 1)

I am studying Luke 22:31-32 at the moment and one of the first things that hit me was the fact that there really is a natural world and a spiritual world. Jesus is saying to Peter in Luke 22:31 that Satan has desired him to sift him as wheat. This didn’t happen in the natural but in the spiritual. The fact of the matter is that things are happening in the spiritual all the time. Usually, we don’t know about them but we experience their effects. If Job were here he could testify to this. A big mistake we make is to take things that happen to us at face value without questioning their true origins or rather without understanding that a lot of things that occur in the natural are the outcomes of battles fought in the spiritual.

I’m reminded right now of the story where I think it was Daniel had prayed and God had sent his angel with the answer but he (the angel) was delayed when he had to battle the devil that had come up against him. Daniel would not have known of this had not the angel told him upon his arrival. Most times the battles that are fought in the spirit realm for our blessings and deliverance, etc., we are not privy to. This is another reason why we must ALWAYS keep our faith and trust in the Lord because we know that no matter what happens he is on our side.

We must also understand that we too fight battles in the spirit realm. And whether we win or lose there determines our actions in the natural. For example when we are tempted our spirit man resists the devil in the spirit but if he (our spirit man) is not strong enough to withstand the attack of the devil then we lose the battle and see the effects in the natural. Sin is a good example of this happening. So we must keep up our spiritual strength by staying in prayer and in the word.

In "Other" Words

“In the middle of difficulty lies opportunity .”~ Albert Einstein~

The week before my baptism in September of 1998 I decided that there were two people that I needed to ask forgiveness of before my big day. One was an uncle who was a staunch Catholic as was most of my family. I called and apologized to him. One might expect that this call would have ended on a happy note as he readily forgave me but it didn’t. By the time I hung up the tears streaming down my face were not those of joy.

My uncle’s comment to me on my baptism was that he understood my situation at home was not perfect but that was no reason to be jumping from church to church. You see I grew up and made First Communion in the Catholic faith but later attended a Seventh Day Adventist Church for about a year as my mother had gotten baptized into this faith. We stopped attending when I was about 9 or 10. I did not attend any church for the next couple of years when I was coerced by my aunt (she was the adult after all) to a full gospel deliverance meeting. I got saved and was never the same again.

My childhood was not a model of stability. My father had three gods in his life: alcohol, gambling and women. Not exactly the starting point of happy family memories. But when I accepted Christ it was because I had found someone to love me inspite of myself. I do not consider that I was hopping from church to church searching for the happiness that was not always present at home. His words hurt because I felt like he was saying that I didn’t love God but was only using him conveniently somehow. There was also the shame because even though my father’s weaknesses affected us in many ways I felt we had a lot of love amongst ourselves. My mother always made sure we knew that we were loved and my father always told us he loved us. My uncle’s words somehow made me feel like trash.

So I cried. I can’t remember if I responded in any way but I remember sitting at my desk and crying feeling very much misunderstood. It was only in hindsight I realized something. He had no right to make me feel ashamed. My circumstances were not of my doing and if God had used my difficulty as an opportunity to draw me unto Him then praise the Lord! The truth of the matter is that the personal relationship with Christ that I needed to complete my life I did not find anywhere else but in a simple cell group meeting at somebody’s house and the choice of place to worship was something I considered carefully and prayerfully.

Over the years I’ve learned the value of Einstein’s statement. Every difficulty I face is an opportunity to grow closer to God. As the songwriter said, “If I never had a problem I wouldn’t know my God could solve them”

VBS 2006: Jesus is Coming Soon!

It has been a busy couple of days/weeks for me with our church concert and fashion show, my sister's wedding and the start of VBS being the 05, 06 and 07 August 2006. I guess you won't be surprised then when i tell you that even though the VBS was supposed to start at 10.00 am, at 10.45 am i was being roused from sound sleep by my sister who could not believe that i had overslept. Thank goodness I was not solely responsible for carrying on the VBS so by the time i had whipped my sleepy butt into shape it was in full swing.

Our theme this year is Jesus is Coming Soon! I had wondered if this might be too heavy for the kids but i think if it's important that they understand that our Lord and Saviour will return again for us. Today's lesson dealt with who Jesus is and we showed a movie (animated) that depicted his death and resurrection.

One Down, Four More To Go

My sister got married today. (Hip hip hip hooray!)

The day ended up being very lovely although it had a very rocky start since my sister went up to this morning by the tailor and he still had not finished her VERY SIMPLE DRESS. Needless to say many tears were shed before she receieved her dress. Also she was an early bride but this was necessary since the church had three weddings planned for that day.

Another glitch in the plans was that the keys to the Benz that was supposed to take her to the church could not be found so to avoid being late she was chauffered in a van. Hey at least it was clean and she arrived on time. Doesn't she look beautiful! Will try to put up more pictures soon!

P.S. To clarify the title my mother has five girls so one down, four more to go.

My Grace Is Sufficient for You

My grace is sufficient for you
Trust in me,
I will see you through
When times are tough and seasons change
I will always be the same
On mountaintops, in deepest seas
I control your destiny
Have I not promised, will I not stay
Here beside you everyday?
Have I not spoken, will I not do
All that I have purposed for you?

You are washed in my blood
I have called you by name
For you I came,
died
and suffered shame
Do you not trust me, to do as I say?
Have I ever failed you in any way?
Do not rely on your eyes
The things that you see
For the things you do not
Are more real to me.