I love my Father!

It’s amazing how difficult it is to find time to write on my blog. I’m not complaining, mind you, it’s just crazy how busy life is with little ones. I had to take the time today, though, because I can’t help but brag on my Father.

I had to run to the grocery store today to get a few things. I had $100.00 exactly to spend. I did have an extra $20 in my pocket that my hubby had given me to buy something for myself. He’s sweet that way. ;-) I did my best to add everything in my head as I shopped, but I often found myself wondering if the total was correct.  I tend to daydream while shopping.  I was running a bit late and sent a quick prayer up that I would have enough money.

I walked up to the checkout line hoping to get through quickly. Why I ever hope for this I will never know. It seems to never fail that something happens. Usually the customers in front of me have 4 million coupons, can’t find their debit card, or they want things bagged a certain way. This time the lady didn’t have enough cash. She was pulling things out of the 2 little bags that she had and asking the cashier to take them off. The cashier acted put out. I have to admit I had a desire to slap the cashier. It’s not like we all haven’t been in that situation. So I began to pray. I told the Lord if I had a lot of money I would just pay for the lady’s groceries. He seemed to nudge me and say, “I will supply your need.” Again I repeated that IF I had a lot of money I would help this dear lady out. I thought possibly He hadn’t heard me the first time. Again He said, “I will supply.”  I just shook my head and took a deep breath. I sometimes have issues with trust. So I leaned in and told the cashier I would pay the difference. I thought her teeth were going to fall out. The customer that was in between me and the distraught woman turned to me with a scowl and a look of disbelief. I just smiled…and swallowed real hard. The cashier asked if I was sure. I nodded that I was. So she relayed the message. The woman I was trying to help almost burst into tears. She thanked me over and over again. I told her it was no big deal and we’ve all been in her shoes.  The nosey cashier noticed that the woman had some cash hanging out of her purse and pointed it out to the woman.  The poor lady tried to explain that she needed that $5.00 to put gas in her car to get home to her sick daughter. The cashier just shook her head. I wanted to ask her if she was a CPA why in the world was she working at Meijer, but I kept my mouth shut. Anyway, everything got paid and the lady went on her way.

The next customer in line was getting rung up and she looked at me…no longer with a scowl, and said, “You have renewed my faith in mankind!” The cashier then asked her how she was doing and she stated, “GOOD NOW!” She couldn’t wipe the smile off of her face. I told her that the Lord had been so good to me that I just wanted to share His goodness with others.  Again she smiled.

Then it was my turn. I knew now all I had left was the $100.00. I’m not going to lie…I was nervous.  I really didn’t think I had added correctly. The cashier proceeded to tell me her life troubles.  I was truly trying to listen but I was so nervous I had a hard time concentrating.  When she rang the last item up she sort of giggled and said, “Wow, you don’t see that very often.” I looked up to see that the total was $100.00 even. SERIOUSLY!?!?!?!  I just started to laugh. I told the cashier that all I had was $100.00 and wasn’t God good!  She seemed to get quite upset and asked me why on earth would I help a stranger if I knew I didn’t have deep pockets? I said, “Because my heavenly Father DOES have deep pockets and He never ceases to take care of me.”

But wait…there’s more!!!!!!

As soon as I had said that to her, the coupon dispenser started spitting out coupons like there was no tomorrow.  The cashier looked at me, looked at the long roll of coupons, looked up (I’m assuming she was wondering if she could see God at that moment), and then asked me if I used coupons.  I said I sure did. She handed them to me and I couldn’t wait to see the total. Yep, you guessed it. The total of the coupons was exactly double what I had given the lady AND it was all items that my family uses.

Isn’t God amazingly good to us? I can just picture Him sitting on the edge of His throne. With a twinkle in His eye He probably elbowed His Son and said, “I can’t wait to see her face when she sees that total!”

I love Him so much and I can’t wait to see how He will surprise me next with His never-ending goodness!

Before We Knew

Today I will begin to tell some things about my family. I’ve wanted to do this for quite some time, but didn’t know where to start. I finally asked my oldest daughter if I could share some of her life with the world. She quickly said, “Yes!” I, however, wanted her to pray and think about it for a while. She came back and again told me it was ok. The issue with telling people about our family is that I won’t be believed and there will be judgment from others.  I’ve come to realize it doesn’t matter if people believe me or not. What matters is whether or not I’m being honest…I am!!! So, if you feel the need to disbelieve or judge go right ahead.

Phebe is my oldest daughter. I was able to adopt her when she was just a baby. She is a beautiful young lady inside and out. In fact, she is more the person I want to be than what I actually am. She’s loving, patient, pretty, thin, empathetic, hardworking, and so understanding. There’s so much more, but I’m sure you get the point. She’s not perfect, mind you, and there are many things that she works on daily. When she was little she was such a good girl. She was very obedient and just fun to be around. She was very smart and had memorized many verses by the age of 3.  Phebe was able to always make me smile even when I didn’t feel like it. I have to admit as a young mom I was way too strict with her. She dealt with my strictness very well. She was extremely obedient.  A few years later she became so different. She lied a lot, and she didn’t seem to care if she got in trouble.  She seemingly changed into another person. I still loved her. I just didn’t enjoy being with her as much.

I worked many hours at that time. I left the house around 2:30 in the afternoon. This was right in the middle of nap-time for Abner, my 2 year old. Phebe would get home from school right when I left. She would wait for Abner to wake up, and then they would walk next door to my parents’ house. She was only 8 at the time, but was more than capable of doing this. Before she left our house she was supposed to call my mom to let her know they were on their way over. One particular day my mom was outside and didn’t hear the phone ring. Phebe left a message that they were walking over and thought she had hung the phone up. She hadn’t…so you could hear everything that was going on in the house. You could hear her screaming at her little brother. She would yell and then either hit or kick him. He was crying and begging her to stop. This went on for quite some time. When I heard the message I cried uncontrollably. I just couldn’t understand what had made Phebe so angry. I confronted her with the tape and she swore up and down that she hadn’t done anything like that to her brother. I was flabbergasted. How could she deny what was so apparent?

Another time I found knives all over the house when I came home from work. They were in the bathroom, under the couch, in her bedroom…everywhere. When I asked why she had done that she again denied it. No one else was in the house except Abner and he was 2. He couldn’t even reach the knives.

When Phebe was in the 3^rd grade I received a call from the school. Phebe had been caught red-handed cheating. I went to the school to talk to her. The principal and pastor had already talked to her but didn’t get anywhere with her. I talked to her for hours. My mom talked to her on the phone. My dad left work and came to talk to her. She denied, denied, denied.   I was angry, confused, and ready to give up. When you’re a parent you don’t get the option of giving up, though. So I prayed for her and got her into counseling. We went through many counselors. Most of them just said they didn’t understand, but I was wasting my money trying to get her help. I knew it wasn’t a waste. I knew she just needed the right counselor.  

I remember saying, “If I didn’t know better I would say she had Multiple Personality Disorder.” It was so frustrating. I would explain how to do something, like how to wash the dishes. Then next time I would tell her to do dishes she would say she didn’t know how because she’s never done it before.  I would get so angry with her. Her bedroom would become an absolute mess. So I would go in and just clean, clean, clean. I would find tons of food, dishes, and silverware. I would line everything up and ask her why she had put them in her room. You guessed it…she would say she never took that stuff in her room. This would happen about 4-6 times a year. Every time she was asked why she did something she would deny it. I was so sick of the lies.  It’s something that just makes my blood boil.

She also never had a sense of direction…at all!!!!  We lived in the same house from the time she was 6 until she was 16. We went to the same church, stores, and gas stations. Our church/school was 4 miles from our house. She went to that building almost every day of those 10 years. She had no clue how to get there. It was only 2 turns. I just couldn’t understand.  Phebe wasn’t dumb by any stretch of the imagination. In fact she is quite smart. I remember when she was 15 my hubby and I were trying to figure out what school grade to put her in that year. We were planning on homeschooling and ordered a packet of tests. In each subject she had 3 or 4 tests. They were all VERY similar. In each subject the results showed that she needed to be in as many different grades. For example in English she tested to be in 10^th, 3^rd, 6^th, and 9^th grade. It didn’t make a lick of sense. We didn’t have a clue as to what grade to put her in.

By the time she reached her teenage years my relationship with her was strained, to say the least. If she entered the room, I exited and vice versa.  We argued constantly. I wanted my little Phebe back, and I didn’t have a clue as to what she wanted. Actually, I don’t believe she knew what she wanted. Nothing really made her happy. I encouraged her to have friends over, but she wouldn’t. One year her birthday gift was money and being able to take 2 friends to the mall. She refused to do it. I asked her hundreds of times what was wrong. I asked if someone had hurt her. I asked if she was mad at someone. I asked if she was scared. I asked if she hated me. I asked if she wanted to go back to Haiti. I asked if she was a Christian. I asked if she was sad. I asked if she was happy. She just never had a clear answer for anything.

I didn’t know how to help her, but I never gave up.

Uriah, three years old

Three years old is what you’d be
on January Third.
I’ll try to write how you would be
in just a few short words.
You’d probably be very tall
and know your ABC’s.
Your older brother, Abner,
would teach you to climb trees.
Phebe would be proud of you
and pictures she would take.
She’d capture all your silliness
and crafts that you would make.
Your little brother, Asher,
would be your constant shadow.
You’d probably try to hide from him
but he would always follow.
You have another sister,
Selah Grace is her name.
Were you there in the room
the day that she came?
Daddy and Mommy miss you
more than words can ever say.
You would still be in my arms
if I could have my way.
But for now, my precious boy,
I’ll just dream of you.
It won’t be long and I'll be there
in Heaven with you, too.

Christmas memories

I went to our church’s annual Christmas program and had a wonderful time.  Every year they do something a little different.  This year they had a few people from the choir and orchestra tell of past Christmases that they had enjoyed. It made me stop and think about my own Christmas memories. I seemingly have a VERY bad memory. I have had 40 Christmases so far. I can only remember 2 of them. Wow, that is pathetic. I guess I need to up my Omega 3 intake.  ;-)

The first Christmas I remembered is when I was eight years old. On Christmas Eve that year my oldest brother Jim, his wife Linda, and their little baby Becca came for Christmas.  Jim was a wonderful older brother to me.  He used to call me Lena Horn…funny guy. That night he and Linda had bought me a Connect Four game.  My younger sister Flossie and I played it non-stop after I opened it.  We had a blast that night.  After a fun-filled evening Jim, Linda, and Becca gathered their things and got ready to go home.  Everyone headed outside to wave good-bye. Flossie and I however decided to stay in and play our new game. My dad stepped back in the house and said, “You two get out here and say good-bye. You never know if this might be the last time you see your brother.” I was a tad peeved that I had to go outside, but I was soon hugging and kissing and waving along with the rest of the family.  Little did my dad know that he was being quite prophetic in that moment. The next day…Christmas…the phone rang.  I answered it and was surprised to hear one of Linda’s family members on the phone asking to talk to one of my parents. Jim had been accidentally shot that day in a hunting accident.  He died on the way to the hospital. This was a VERY difficult time for my family. None of us wanted to go on. We all slept together in the living room for many weeks.  No one wanted to be alone. I remember going to sleep listening to my family sniffle and cry. We had a few animals at the time and my dad and I often did chores together.  We would walk back to the house from the barn hand in hand. Usually half way back dad would turn to me and say, “Just think Hannah…we are one day closer to seeing Jim.” It was such a comfort to think about that. Christmas has never been the same since.

The second Christmas I remember is the year I was pregnant with Uriah. I was due on the 27^th of December. My doctor had told me she would induce me 3 weeks earlier, but decided she didn’t want to be bothered over the holiday. I was miserable. I was in so much pain I could hardly walk. All I wanted was to hold my baby in my arms. I have to admit I didn’t enjoy Christmas much that year. All I could think about was having that baby. A week later I did…only to have him die as well.

This Christmas I will remember as well. This Christmas will be remembered by many. The parents of 20 first graders will NEVER be able to forget this Christmas. What an awful memory for these families. I had presents for Uriah under the tree that Christmas just before he was born. I’m sure these families do as well for their children. Can you imagine what it must be like for them?

Some people may look at the two Christmases that I remember as awful memories. I suppose I could focus on the negative of those Christmases, but I chose not to do that.  Instead I think of my wonderful brother having been able to enjoy the last 32 years with his Lord and Savior. He’s been able to be with Uriah for the last 3 years. I bet he has just about pinched Uriah’s cheeks until they are almost raw. My family will know what I mean by that. Today I am another day closer to seeing them both. I am ready to see them. Ready for people I love to stop hurting. Ready for this world to stop hurting each other. Ready for the killing to stop. Ready to have Christmas every day in Heaven.

I’m ready….are you?  If you’re not ready for heaven, don’t you want to be? If you don’t know for sure you’re going to heaven someday, please message me and I will be more than happy to share with you how you can know and be ready to enjoy eternity.

Merry Christmas and may every Christmas that you have be a fond memory for years to come.

Color

One of my favorite memories of Phebe, when she was little, is actually centered around a picture. She had a little friend her age…probably around 5 years old. Her friend was VERY white and Phebe was VERY black. The picture was of just their hands. Her friend saw the picture and asked which hand was hers and which hand was Phebe’s. I remember loving the fact that the color of skin wasn’t noticed even though this little girl knew her colors.

Growing up bi-racial in an all-white community was…well…let’s just say interesting. I was called a few colorful names. I never told anyone. Those names hurt me to the core. I think it’s funny how as I get older my skin seems to get lighter. When I was little I remember wishing I could take a bath in bleach so that I could look like the rest of my family. I would try to stay out of the sun as much as possible just so I didn’t get too dark. The problem was I loved to swim too much to not be in the sun. Now most people don’t even realize I’m part black. Shoot, my husband didn’t even know it until he heard me talking about it a few months after we were married. :-)

My son Abner is quite dark too. He has had some very rude and crude comments said to him over the years. I recall when he was about 6 he came to me and asked what a certain word meant. I asked him where he had heard it. He said his fellow teammate in T-ball had called him that. For me that was a very sad day. I try to protect my children, but sometimes it’s just impossible.

I’m sure a lot of people would think I’m too concerned with color. I don’t really care. I do everything I can to protect my children from cruelty. Today someone stopped by the house to pick something up I was giving away. I wasn’t looking my best so I was going to send Phebe to the door. I suddenly was afraid that the people wouldn’t take it because a black person was giving it to them. So at the last second I sent Abner to the door and told him to be a gentleman. Abner is a bit lighter than Phebe so I was hoping it wouldn’t be a problem. I listened from the living room to the whole conversation. To be honest I was a nervous wreck. I imagined this woman throwing the item away the first chance she got. A couple hours later I received an email from her. She wanted to thank me for the item and to praise my son for having such good manners. WOW! I decided to let her know my fears. She wrote back and said I was a silly woman. That I should be thankful I have such a wonderful son, and that I must be a very good mom to have a son like mine. She agreed that we do live in a very funny world and she understood my fear, but that for her it wasn’t a problem.

Isn’t it funny how we can let our imagination run wild? Well, maybe you don’t, but I sure can at times. We have lived in the Kalamazoo area for almost 2 years now. It just struck me today that since we’ve lived here we only have had one incident concerning color. Maybe it’s time for me to relax a bit about this issue and enjoy where we live.

I’ve wondered many times who will marry my older children. Will they be the same color? I couldn’t care less, but many people don’t feel that way. I love how Moses married a black woman, and God honored their marriage. In fact, he caused Miriam to have leprosy for making fun of his black wife. I wish I could do that sometimes. I pray that my children marry godly spouses. I don’t care what color they are. I also pray that if they are a different race that the extended family will accept them just for whom they are.

So tonight I rest my head…thrilled that we live in an area that accepts my family and go to a church that loves my family! We have quite the array of color. I’m anxious to see what our new little one will look like.

I would love it if she was as dark as her big sister. Boy, wouldn't that turn a few heads. *snicker snicker*

Singing

My husband and I have been trying to explain to our teenagers the importance of praising the Lord through song. I’m beginning to wonder if it will ever make any sense to them. I myself LOVE to sing…especially to the Lord. I've noticed since Uriah died that the lyrics of many songs I sing have such a new and different meaning. Heaven seems so much sweeter, God’s grace is much more meaningful, and Jesus’ love is more precious.

Tonight in church we let little Asher sit with us during the song service. He loves music more than any other child I have ever known. He always wants me to sing to him, and he LOVES to sit on his daddy’s lap and listen to him play the piano. So it only made sense to let him enjoy the song service. I've tried many times to get him to sing. The closest thing he’s done is say e-i-e-i-o. Tonight we were singing a song Steve Green used to sing called “Lamb of Glory”. Asher was sitting all relaxed on Jesse’s lap. He suddenly sat up and stared at me while I sang. Within a few seconds he started singing, “Ha-way-woo-ya….ha-way-woo-ya!” Hallelujah wasn’t even a part of the song. Well, it wasn’t one of the words in the lyrics, but for some reason Asher heard ‘Hallelujah’. I’m positive that’s what God heard as well. I couldn’t keep from crying. Did the Lord cry? I don’t know, but I do know that was the most precious sound I had heard in a very long time.

Abner mentioned on the way home that it was very distracting when Asher sang so loud. He was right…it was distracting but in a very good way. I wish the whole world would have been distracted by his innocence. I wish the whole world could be distracted by God’s unconditional love, grace, and forgiveness.

We had a little singspiration at our house tonight...

He was really getting into it!

So was daddy :o)

Make a joyful noise unto the Lord!

A smile on my face

This past Sunday a man sat in front of me holding a new baby. The baby was nestled into his neck sleeping soundly. Every so often this man would tip his head down and kiss the baby’s head and linger for a moment to catch that sweet baby smell. I have to admit I was a bit jealous. There just isn’t anything like holding a new baby. Do you remember the first time you held your children? I do…and with each one it was pure love and happiness.

Each morning my alarm clock is my little 20 month old Asher. He shares a room with his older brother, but for some reason the older brother is deaf in the morning. ;-) It
doesn’t matter how tired I am…when I hear Asher start to jabber away each day it brings a smile to my face. While we were on vacation I would wake up and call for him. He would start talking “his talk,” and come running to my side of the bed. I would pull him up on my lap and he would continue to tell me…well, I’m not sure what he was telling me, but I could tell it was VERY important! When he was finished with his tale or request he would jump off the bed and go back to whatever it was he was doing before. I LOVE these moments with him. I crave these moments with him. My older kids will come and talk to me, but it doesn’t seem as often anymore, and this makes me sad.

I began to think about my heavenly Father, and I wonder if He feels this way about me. Does he look forward to my first word to Him in the morning? Does it bring a smile to His face? Does He miss it when I forget or don’t have time? Does He love it?
Does He crave it? I believe the answer to all of those questions is YES!!!!!!!!! I can picture Him tilting His head down as I sleep and kissing the top of my head…lingering to catch my fragrance. I believe He sits with anxious anticipation waiting for me to wake and talk to Him. Sometimes when I talk to Him it doesn’t make a lick of sense, but I think He understands anyways.

Zephaniah 3:17
“The Lord your God is in your midst,
A victorious warrior.
He will exalt over you with joy,
He will be quiet in His love,
He will rejoice over you with shouts of joy.

Isn’t that something??? He will rejoice over me with shouts of joy! That’s how I
feel about my children. How much more must God feel that way about me. No, I’m
not perfect…not even close. Yet, He loves me, He exalts over me, and He shouts for joy. All I can do is shake my head in amazement, and talk to Him each morning. I want to always bring a smile to His face!