A GOD Incident!

 

Hi Everybody, It's early in the morning. Actually I woke at 6 and was wide awake. I immediately started thinking about the book I had just finished. It was about praying... Actually, I realized as I got back into it, that it was my second reading--I always highlight books so recognized the parts that were important to me. Why, then, on the second read, had I stopped at a specific part. Yes, It was about praying...You see, I'm one of those that was talked about in the book, Be With Him Be Like Him Cultivate your prayer life, by Vincent H. Chough. I find it hard to actually spend a specific time to talk--to take time to be with the Holy Spirit, with GOD! So, I was feeling a little intimated by what the book was saying, about scheduling a specific time...wow! I was scheduling one thing or another practically my entire life, professionally... Was I now having to, in my retirement, schedule my times with Jesus?

Sooo, like the reader I am, I went on to finish the book, a second time, sleepy of course--which the book actually said I or many would be when they start to think about praying, especially at night... For the record, for health reasons, I've been taking a set of prescribed pills to help me sleep, which I monitor with my doctor... I had been in so much pain before my hip replacement surgery that I couldn't sleep, that I needed a little help...It goes with age, I guess... 

Anyway, as I said I woke at 6 and was wide awake. I immediately started to pray for my BBF, crying out to the Lord... OMG, I had just cried out to the Lord, which the book said was the highest form, when we are in great need and knew God would help...

I stopped and smiled. and laid there silently, calmly... Take Time to be Holy popped into my mind...so I sang the words... Take Time to be Holy, Speak Oft with the Lord, Abide in Him Always, and Feed on His Word, Spend time with God's Children, Help Those wo are weak, And thinking always, His Pleasure to Seek.

Gently, quietly I started hearing the Holy Spirit. For me, It always comes into my left ear, but higher, than my ear...as if it is in some secret spot within my brain--I wonder now, Is That Where the Holy Spirit Resides? I kinda imagined that it would be in the heart...but, as I think about it, it makes sense to reside where my words are to be found...and used... 

And then I was on to the next part of praying...praise him... Immediately I started singing Joyful, Joyful we adore thee, God of Glory, Lord of Love, Hearts unfold like flowers before thee, filling us with the light of love... Oh, I might get a few words wrong, but the words I find are normally about loving and GOD. Now, as an aside, I've been thinking about "Sister Act" because of another book I've finished, Restless for Reparation. I'll be spotting that and the author soon...

And, quietly, again, the memories flooded me... For years (at least up until I started taking meds that would put me to sleep - and may need to reconsider that soon), yes, for years I had spent time singing before falling to sleep. Oh, not out loud, but in my head, the songs I had learned came quickly and easily to mind. They might have been somebody else's words...yeah, a reader tends to do that...find words that are meaningful and remember them... and always, it seemed, the proper song would come to mind...if I were upset and couldn't sleep, for instance...the words would come, Be Not Dismayed wha'ere betide, God Will Take Care of You...

I will often sing the first verse over and over until I was feeling calmer...then move on to, say, Victory in Jesus, maybe, or. as I got older, I would start singing songs that related to my aging, Each Step I Take, with a new slant of meaning...Each step I take just leads me closer to home...

And then I knew, I was being told that, yes, the book will be helpful to some in learning how to talk to God...but each of us will, if we ask for His Presence, will indeed have the Holy Spirit to guide us as to how to spend time with Him... And, as my Mom used to say, Glenda, just play the piano and allow me to listen... I knew, then, that singing words written by others, but used by me to speak of my need, was...just...fine...with...my...Jesus...

One of my favorites and maybe yours?

But that's not the end of the Incident... So reading the books I've been spending time with, often had references from the Bible. I was led to go to Amazon to see if the Bible might be an ebook now, which would allow easier reading with my eye issues... Wow! Did you know that all Bibles are free on Amazon? And I don't think it was a special sale! So if you use an ebook, check it out! It sure is easy to move from one book to another, which happens to be the Bible and check the reference immediately.

Well, I was sleepy, but had also finished the book on praying and still not totally ready to close my eyes... I opened up the Bible and started with Acts. That had been the book that was being mentioned often... And read the first seven chapters until I closed the reader for the night...

At 6AM, I picked up the reader, and opened Kindle, it was on the page where I had stopped... This was after I had awoke and sang a couple of songs, in my head... Here is what the Lord shared:

Reading from the American Standard Version,

Acts: 8-1 And Saul was consenting unto his death. And there arose on that day a great persecution against the church which was in Jerusalem; and they were all scattered abroad throughout the regions of Judæa and Samaria, except the apostles. 2 And devout men buried Stephen, and made great lamentation over him. 3 But Saul laid waste the church, entering into every house, and dragging men and women committed them to prison. 4 They therefore that were scattered abroad went about preaching the word. 5 And Philip went down to the city of Samaria, and proclaimed unto them the Christ. 6 And the multitudes gave heed with one accord unto the things that were spoken by Philip, when they heard, and saw the signs which he did. 7 For from many of those that had unclean spirits, they came out, crying with a loud voice: and many that were palsied, and that were lame, were healed. 8 And there was much joy in that city. 

9 But there was a certain man, Simon by name, who beforetime in the city used sorcery, and amazed the people of Samaria, giving out that himself was some great one: 10 to whom they all gave heed, from the least to the greatest, saying, This man is that power of God which is called Great. 11 And they gave heed to him, because that of long time he had amazed them with his sorceries. 12 But when they believed Philip preaching good tidings concerning the kingdom of God and the name of Jesus Christ, they were baptized, both men and women. 13 And Simon also himself believed: and being baptized, he continued with Philip; and beholding signs and great miracles wrought, he was amazed. 14 Now when the apostles that were at Jerusalem heard that Samaria had received the word of God, they sent unto them Peter and John: 15 who, when they were come down, prayed for them, that they might receive the Holy Spirit: 16 for as yet it was fallen upon none of them: only they had been baptized into the name of the Lord Jesus. 17 Then laid they their hands on them, and they received the Holy Spirit. 18 Now when Simon saw that through the laying on of the apostles’ hands the Holy Spirit was given, he offered them money, 19 saying, Give me also this power, that on whomsoever I lay my hands, he may receive the Holy Spirit. 20 But Peter said unto him, Thy silver perish with thee, because thou hast thought to obtain the gift of God with money. 21 Thou hast neither part nor lot in this matter: for thy heart is not right before God. 22 Repent therefore of this thy wickedness, and pray the Lord, if perhaps the thought of thy heart shall be forgiven thee. 23 For I see that thou art in the gall of bitterness and in the bond of iniquity. 24 And Simon answered and said, Pray ye for me to the Lord, that none of the things which ye have spoken come upon me. 25 They therefore, when they had testified and spoken the word of the Lord, returned to Jerusalem, and preached the gospel to many villages of the Samaritans. 26 But an angel of the Lord spake unto Philip, saying, Arise, and go toward the south unto the way that goeth down from Jerusalem unto Gaza: the same is desert. 27 And he arose and went: and behold, a man of Ethiopia, a eunuch of great authority under Candace, queen of the Ethiopians, who was over all her treasure, who had come to Jerusalem to worship; 28 and he was returning and sitting in his chariot, and was reading the prophet Isaiah. 29 And the Spirit said unto Philip, Go near, and join thyself to this chariot. 30 And Philip ran to him, and heard him reading Isaiah the prophet, and said, Understandest thou what thou readest? 31 And he said, How can I, except some one shall guide me? And he besought Philip to come up and sit with him. 32 Now the passage of the scripture which he was reading was this, He was led as a sheep to the slaughter; And as a lamb before his shearer is dumb, So he openeth not his mouth: 33 In his humiliation his judgment was taken away: His generation who shall declare? For his life is taken from the earth. 34 And the eunuch answered Philip, and said, I pray thee, of whom speaketh the prophet this? of himself, or of some other? 35 And Philip opened his mouth, and beginning from this scripture, preached unto him Jesus. 36 And as they went on the way, they came unto a certain water; and the eunuch saith, Behold, here is water; what doth hinder me to be baptized? 37 And Philip said, If thou believest with all thy heart, thou mayest. And he answered and said, I believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of God.; 38 And he commanded the chariot to stand still: and they both went down into the water, both Philip and the eunuch; and he baptized him. 39 And when they came up out of the water, the Spirit of the Lord caught away Philip; and the eunuch saw him no more, for he went on his way rejoicing. 40 But Philip was found at Azotus: and passing through he preached the gospel to all the cities, till he came to Cæsarea. 

9-1 But Saul, yet breathing threatening and slaughter against the disciples of the Lord, went unto the high priest, 2 and asked of him letters to Damascus unto the synagogues, that if he found any that were of the Way, whether men or women, he might bring them bound to Jerusalem. 3 And as he journeyed, it came to pass that he drew nigh unto Damascus: and suddenly there shone round about him a light out of heaven: 4 and he fell upon the earth, and heard a voice saying unto him, Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me? 5 And he said, Who art thou, Lord? And he said, I am Jesus whom thou persecutest: Stopping as guided...

Soooo, many of you know that I have had a heavy heart because of how the seeming "merge" of church and politics has resulted in a divided nation...and even divided families... As you know, I finished recently Michael L. Bown's the Political Seduction of the Church: How Millions of American Christians Have Confused Politics with the Gospel. I will continue sharing chapter by chapter as previously indicated... But, of course, when God Speaks, I kinda think I should listen to Him first...👵

The first word that struck me in the scripture was a great persecution of the church. Indeed, we all feel that something has gone wrong with the church...but what is it, we've been asking. This was just after Stephen had been murdered! Violence against the church...Certainly we are seeing, witnessing, and, yes, talking and praying about how violence had become part of the actions in relation to the church...

Again, I picked out the next words that caught attention and am giving you my thoughts...they were all scattered abroad throughout the regions... My first thought was one I use often--that Jesus has asked that we go out and talk about Him...NOT use violence or coercion of any kind, except our love, to bring others to Christ... So while Saul and others who were speaking against the men of Jesus, the apostles went out into lands that were not normally those who would know of this new faith...and performed miracles to those, even, of different faiths... And love and healing was their message!

But Saul, yet breathing threatening and slaughter against the disciples of the Lord, went unto the high priest, 2 and asked of him letters to Damascus unto the synagogues, that if he found any that were of the Way, whether men or women, he might bring them bound to Jerusalem. One man, yes, one man there at the time of threats, slaughter, and murder continued his violence against all who followed Christ... Of course, you know who I at once thought of...for he has incited much violence against the lord of love, yet many think him the messiah, according to Dr. Brown...

And then God said to Saul Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me? Can I assume what I believe is right? That Christ has said, I see how you all are persecuting all my followers, the Christians... using violence when love is what I taught...? One of the points that Dr. Brown made is that some are saying that Trump is like Cyrus (or Saul, perhaps) in that God has chosen to change our former president for His Good Use... But, of course, Dr. Brown and I both agree... what is happening is not a revival of love, a giving to share with our neighbors in need... In fact, many of other faiths have been banned from coming to America...and those already in America who are of a different religion, are being persecuted...just as Saul and many leaders at that time, did to Christ. Where is the love that the apostles went out to share with others who knew not Jesus...yet...but were found and given His Spirit! 

Soooo, folks, how do you feel about what I've shared. Is the entire event a God Incident?! I think so... I believe that Christ is watching--Indeed the Holy Trinity is involved! Spend time asking and listening for answers... and, if you think about it, share and discuss my words with others who are wondering, worrying, and waiting... Because, there is ONE Thing I do know! God Indeed is In Control! America WILL BE REUNITED WITH ALL PEOPLES OF ALL NATIONS LIVING TOGETHER, BEING NEIGHBORS... And, learning about Jesus as we who Believe His Words, from those of us who speak of love...not hate...

My Burden is to read as many books that are out there, giving knowledge...recent information, thoughtful commentary... I know books are expensive, and I'm able to read and share with you as I am guided...and concerned about what has and is happening... Leave comments or ask questions...or even disagree with me, telling me why... But, do, I pray, seek Truth! God's Truth - His Love... Don't forget that the author of the Political Seduction book also has AskDrBrown...so go directly to an expert of the evangelical christian faith...seek out the WHY? We all have a responsibility to help ensure the future goes where God is LOVE!

Clarity in the Chaos - Shared with Permission by Vincent H. Chough, Author of Be With Him - Be Like Him And Leader at Prayer for Anxiety.Com

 

https://prayerforanxiety.com/

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Prayer for Anxiety is a place where you can find rest. Get inspiration through God's Word and prayer. You can ask for prayer. Or read informative articles. Remember, true prayer comes from a personal relationship with Jesus Christ.

 Also

 Third Millennium Man

Third Millennium Man is not a movement or a church. It’s simply a place where people of faith come to share experiences and ideas. The goal here is to rise above the chaos of current events and gain deeper meaning and insight.

 Chaos

Truth

Clarity

Right up front, I have to admit I have no idea how this writer and his works were first presented to me... Assuming it was on Facebook, I have to quickly claim this as a God Incident... because I don't think it was this particular posting that I first saw. Since then, I bought one of Clough's books, asked and gained permission to use his Words here on Book Readers Heaven.

Many of you have read my use of the words Chaos... of Truth... But Chough adds a very important word for these days, don't you think? We must seek CLARITY!

I'm also now working on another post about a book dealing with the legal issues of Freedom of Speech. Frankly, I have been appalled over the last five years, in which I've become more aware of the political culture of America, that we are, more and more, becoming a culture of...lies! What do I mean, you may ask, "I don't know about or often hear lies..." Well, I would just simply ask you to start reading, or listening to, or watching different communication methods than is your normal actions...

Know Thyself. 

One of the things that has bothered me most, simply because, I see it in myself... is the tendency to automatically lie to not hurt somebody dear to me.  Men do it a lot when women ask if their new dress looks alright... All of us use little white lies from time to time. Perhaps we learned it long ago from our family interaction or just because we have a real sense of empathy and sympathy and prefer not to hurt somebody else's feelings if at all possible (and it won't cause any problem). But, even then, sometimes those little white lies backfire on us, don't they?

Do I lie when I write reviews on books? No, I don't. I may choose different words on various books, but I made it a goal when I first started to write book reviews that I would not lie. The truth is--I love to read and, rarely, have I found a book that I did not like. And, when I do, I either don't review it, or I explain why I did not recommend the book to others. For me, reviewing books were just not my personal opinion. Rather, it simply starts with my opinion... either I like it or I don't... Once I decide I'm willing to read the book, then I begin to evaluate and consider specific points of reference as I read. And I mark them for possible use in writing my reviewing later.

Now, I've digressed from the main point of my thoughts today, just to illustrate that all of us must take the time to learn and speak in Truth. If you discover that I, or somebody you know, lies on a regular basis, especially, you should and would have every right not to read anything I ever write or say...

But what, if anything, do you do after you've determined (or think) that I've lied? Do you confront me, or whoever you know who has lied? Do you lie, and even more specifically, lie about me, in turn?

Many of us have seen and reacted to the chaos that has erupted and been incited...and encouraged...and even claimed to be... true. In fact, one man, in particular, has even had the number of his lies...counted! So that, as quickly as possible, those lies can be corrected with truth--facts. Yet, the lies continue, so much so that many now believe them as truth.

Of course, I'm talking about what we all see in the political arena these days. I'm going to stop there, today, because the point of this article is for us to consider it a topic for prayer, for meditation, for, perhaps, talking with somebody who is willing to talk about the chaos, rather than attempt to persuade us that a lie is actually the truth... We all need discernment - the ability to judge well... Maybe even visits to Chough's sites are something you decide to choose...or 

You may choose reading about an issue, or talking to somebody about it. You may also pray about it as is shown in today's suggested words... Often we don't know what we need to think or which way to turn. That's all right, there are people like Vincent Chough, who may provide insight. I've found it through the words of many of the authors I've read... But you must seek clarity to be sure you do know the truth... Stop right now and decide for yourself. Do you want to automatically accept the words as stated by another? Or, do you want to have clarity, and maybe even purpose, in choosing what, in this chaotic world we now live in, to believe... 

 

EC Stilson - Sharing About Her Latest Book, Two More Years! Spotlighting Breadcrumbs From God (God Incidents!)

 When you strip me of everything: my ability to play the violin, my health, my love of writing.... When you get to the essence of who I am, I just wonder if I’ll be good enough to spend eternity wherever God is.--Elisa

The Feather Boomerang...

My mom used to tell me that if I found a white feather it meant an angel was around, looking out for me. I didn’t believe her, even if it was a neat idea. As the days have passed, I’ve sure wished an angel could be here, with me as I fight cancer...

I lifted my violin from its case. “I’m gonna play some oldies. That’s what I heard you like.” I snapped my shoulder rest into place and tightened my bow. “Mrs. Beck,” I said, because I’m super direct, “you keep calling me kid, but you said I’m older than you expected.” “Anyone under fifty is a kid to me. And they keep bringing preteens over to see me—like they’re doing a good deed or something. Why are you here anyway, Elisa? Why did you come?” 

I thought for a minute. “I guess I just want to make you forget whatever it is you’re going through, even if it’s just for a minute. Focus on something else and enjoy.” I set my violin on my shoulder. “So, I have a favor to ask you. Set down your cigarette and close your eyes.” She kinda snort-laughed, set her ciggy down, then snuggled into that huge white pillow before closing her eyes. “Now, as I play, I want you to picture a story.” And I started. First, I played the beginning of “Bridge Over Troubled Water” by Simon and Garfunkel. The music started out quiet—a trickle of spring rain. I sang the song’s words in my head as I played, causing a whirlwind of emotion to burst from my violin. And Mrs. Beck must’ve felt it because little tears seeped from the sides of her eyes. She glowed, so utterly beautiful, like an elderly Snow White or something’ with her sheared, dyed-black hair and leathery face. But instead of lying there, waiting for the kiss of her prince, she was dying. Waiting for the kiss of God. Tears heated my eyes too, and I told myself to quit being such a freakin’ pansy. I shut my lids. Instead of letting my emotion escape through the weakness in my eyes, I pushed that pain into my arms, my hands, my fingertips. And I played that violin, like a flippin’ lover. It cried in my arms, wailing over the melodies and having so much power it reacted to the sheer feeling flooding my body. I knew Mrs. Beck and her daughter could feel the sorrow buried deep in my soul—my sorrow for them. That violin was a magnifying glass, exemplifying exactly why I was there, who I was, and that I wanted to offer at least some semblance of tranquility. Then my bow grew with deep friction and strength, and I transitioned into notes and melodies that just came to me. My fingers and violin took over. That’s the funny thing about me and my fiddle; I think I have control, then that thing takes over like an addiction. I have the road map, but my fiddle has the details that always take me there—a good friend, leading me home. The song swelled, over and over. At one point, a gust of wind rode in through the open window on a high note. Right after that, my fingers and bow slowed to a stop. The notes descended to my D-string, and the weight of the music left my body. The song was over.

I held my violin at my side, that extension of self, then faced the window and closed my eyes. I didn’t want Mrs. Beck or her daughter to see me cry. I even prayed the wind would come again, and God would dry my tears. The Becks were sad enough. They didn’t need to see some kid—over thirty—crying because she “felt bad.” “Elisa,” Mrs. Beck rasped. She beckoned me to the side of her bed. I wiped my eyes, then obeyed. She reached out her wrinkled hand, with that soft, paper-thin skin, and grabbed my fingers. “That, Elisa, that was beautiful.”

“What did you see,” I asked, “when you closed your eyes?”

 “Something from when I was a kid. Something I thought I forgot. My mom, dad, and I were walking in a field.” She took a very deep breath. “I miss them. They were good parents.” I had to twitch my nose just to keep from bawling even more. After all, she’d probably be reuniting with a lot of people soon. I put my violin away, then hugged Mrs. Beck and her daughter. “It was nice meeting both of you,” I said. I left the house and never saw either of them again.

Even before Elisa had learned of her diagnosis of cancer and her subsequent writing of her latest book, Two More Years, she had been providing support for those in need, in one way or another. In the right column of my blog, scroll down to do a search for Stilson's books already reviewed... Search on EC Stilson.

This latest book, however,  was a true God Incident for me... Elisa calls them breadcrumbs. Immediately, you know, like Gretel left breadcrumbs so they could find their way home, I pictured breadcrumbs being dropped from Heaven to show Elisa the way home, some day... Frankly, her book oozes with dreams or encounters in which Elisa was involved that, to me, resulted in Zap!, Zap!, Zap! and more Zaps... It seemed everything she has been dealing with during the period after which she was diagnosed with State 4, Melanoma, she has been surrounded by God or his angels, human and heavenly! Of course, for those of us who have been connected for a while with her, we recognize just how she draws people out just by being...Elisa! And even though she had gone through many trials, including the loss of Zeke, her son, she, was, for the most part, wondering whether she was still...worthy... of even spending eternity with God... 

During this last book, her best, in my opinion, she has many of her earlier experiences brought to mind, as she is dealing with her pain, or the latest test, or scan of her body. One is described so realistically, that I felt myself pulling in my own body in empathetic screams of fear of what was being done... 

You see, no matter what is the truth, Elisa has decided to share as much as she can so that others may be at least prepared for what they might one day have to deal with, with cancer... And, to remind us that, if Elisa can do it, so can we...But it takes God's help to walk in her slippers... Because, it is clear that God is using this Girl God Incident, to speak to me...and to, possibly, millions of people across the world... I consider this a Must-Read, not just because of learning about the reality of melanoma, but for all of the other issues, beyond medically involved, that readers will find while meandering along with Elisa as she writes about this or that...or more on that... The book is divided into chapters; however, the narrative many times feels like an insert into a journal, a diary... The openness, the intimacy of her inner thoughts are revealed in such a way that, by the end of this and other books, we may feel like we know her! And indeed, she shares about at least one individual who came up to her and cried out, "Elisa," as if she was a long-lost friend... who Elisa could not remember... Only to discover that the individual and she had indeed never met... THAT'S how Elisa becomes to each of us who reads her words--her desires, her fears, her joys, her love, her...everything... It's laid bare because SHE is part of a plan that God has for her...and readers are privy to her wanderings and wonderings as she follows where He leads...

I was lost at the picnic. Droves of people weaved past, making me feel minuscule—insignificant. Then I saw her. The woman wore short brownish-auburn hair, a checkered apron, and the cutest smile ever. She parted the crowd easier than Moses parted the Red Sea, and I giggled when I spotted her! My grandma—that tricky possum—ran toward me and clutched my hand. “You don’t need to be scared of them,” she said, motioning to the crowd, “or of the future. It’s all been figured out.” 

And as soon as I saw her, I wasn’t scared at all because, well, I wasn’t quite so lost anymore. My grandma died over a decade ago, and we had so much to catch up on. I wanted to tell her all about my kids and our lives. Relay to her how hard it’s been being sick, hurting so much, and watching everyone else worry and cry. I wanted to tell her that the thought of an early death is daunting because I don’t feel like it’s time to go. 

As if she heard my quietest thoughts, she peered into my eyes with so much love, and whispered, “Now, you’re gonna come here much earlier than you’d want to. But don’t be scared, Elisa. I get to be the one to show you around and help you get used to things. That’s why I’m here, to tell you I’m waiting. Don’t be scared. I’m here waiting to help you.” I glanced at her apron again—something she’d always worn during her life—and with that vision slowly fading, I woke up.

Now many might think that the dream was just a work of the subconscious mind, trying to deal with what might happen in the future... But, did you ever hear about getting a confirmation? Well, Elisa tells about receiving a package of goodies from one of her relatives...and in it, surprisingly perhaps, was an apron... Me, I call that a true God Incident... Signed, Sealed and Delivered! Cool, right?!

But there is much to ponder and consider as your life takes a unplanned for path... 

“I’m scared. I’m so dehydrated and sick. I feel feverish. If things don’t get better fast, I’ll need to go to the ER.” Mike brought me some food and a drink. I tried to eat slowly, but despite anti nausea medications, my stomach already churned. “Mike,” I said, “can you please pray for me?” Mike doesn’t pray. But he did then—and it meant the world to me. 

After falling asleep, I rested in the fetal position in God’s massive hand. I couldn’t see anything other than His hand and the sky which He lifted me into. And even though I didn’t have a blanket, it felt so warm and perfect. This strange energy flowed through every bit of me, simply filling me with resilience. Even in the dream, a strange thought came to me: that someday I’d be in remission. This sounds crazy because all the doctors have said I have an incurable mutation of melanoma. Even if radiation and the new immunotherapy do work, they will only extend my life, not save it. Yet, there was this feeling... and an unimaginably beautiful dream. That morning, I woke up stunned that I’d kept the food down. I sat at the kitchen table with Grandma Dee, who was visiting from Missouri, and Trey. I couldn’t shake the feeling of lying in God’s strong hand. “Look,” Trey said, pointing out the back window. Dee and I turned to see a huge hawk, perched on a branch about fifteen feet away, just staring at us. After it flew away, I tried drinking more water. Amazingly, it stayed down. I’m trying not to get my hopes up, but that dream and its premonition have buoyed me through radiation this week. What do I have to lose anyway?

Worth case, I’ll be let down; best case, I’ll see a miracle. Regardless of what happens, I’m thankful to have a renewed faith in the future. 

*** “Grandma,” I said to my Grandma Stilson when I was in elementary school, “I keep going to church to get saved over and over.” My grandma was a different religion than me, and she didn’t fully understand what I tried to convey. “Wasn’t once enough?” she asked.

“Maybe,” I said. “But maybe not. I might just be bad, and that’s why God is doing this to me. When I close my eyes, I can’t make the words stop. I keep seeing stories in my head. I pray that God will save me and stop the words. He’s punishing me for when I’ve been bad. That’s why He’s making me see the words.” 

She laughed so hard before trying to clarify. “Seeing the words?” “On a keyboard,” I said. “Someone’s typing them.” It was always the same. I’d see these crazy hands typing more and more. A stupid red mug—with swirly paint— sat by the keys which never stopped clicking. 

“Maybe it’s you,” Grandma Stilson said. “Maybe you’re meant to be a writer.” It was my turn to laugh. “No. God is doing this ‘cause I’m bad.” Then something hit me. “If I am meant to be a writer, there’s just one thing I’ll need.” “What’s that?” “Someone who’s really good. I’ll need that person to teach me.” 

My grandma died a little while after that. She’s the only grandma I’d known. Whenever I wanted to give up on anything, she would be there, wearing her beloved checkered apron, and cheering me on. After she passed, sometimes I found it hard to keep believing in myself as a writer. I think that’s why my grandma had to send me an angel. 

Many years passed after my grandma’s death. I picked up writing again and even hired an editor to perfect my fantasy novel. But after I sent her the payment in full, the editor pulled out of the project. “Unfortunately, the payment was over a $1,000 worth of dresses I sewed for her daughter,” I told a friend on the phone. “Reselling them would be a nightmare. It’s just such a specific size. Plus, her daughter looks so happy in the pictures. So, I just let the lady keep them. I guess they’re going through some hard times.”

 

“Oh, wow.” “Yeah, but what am I supposed to do now? There’s no way I can pay someone else.” After a small pause, the woman said with a hint of excitement, “I’ll help you!” At the time I had no idea who this woman really was... (but she became soooo important!)

One of the intriguing things about Elisa is that she acknowledges a strong belief in God...but is still searching, even within the time period of the book, into different religions, since she was still not sure about Jesus...

Can't say that I blame her...Elisa, and many other young people are being turned away from Christianity in today's world. Many consider those who claim to be Christians to be hypocritical or, worse, extremely fanatic and domineering. In another book, and which is also mentioned in her latest, is the story of when Elisa first left home...after being put through what they called an exorcism by her church. Why? Because she had had sex. Today, we see things even worse, as we hear of, for example, of a ten-year-old girl in Ohio being raped through incest, and who, was forced to go out of state to get an abortion due to the ridiculously extreme laws that are being implemented by the republican party... 

It appears to me that it is not God guiding these actions--rather it was a desire to regain power over women's bodies after having had women gain free access and attention to a comprehensive medical review related to all aspects of women's reproduction concerns which should always be something discussed between the female and the doctor! Just like that--for many those rights have gone!

Rape and Incest are, literally, rampant, at the same time that there is little if any, guidance given for teens related to sexual activity by the church. Can you imagine, after, perhaps, agreeing to sex, or having a date rape drug given to you, or, even, an incest act forced on a child by a relative, that a church would choose to have an exorcism...or, without regard to the female, be forced to have a child who has gone through date-rape or incest-rape. [Note that Elisa did become pregnant, but made her own decision to carry the child...] Hypocritical? Yes, of course! For it is men of all ages and relationships who have initiated that forced intimacy... or, just as bad, made teens of both sexes, to feel so much guilt that they were afraid of parental or religious condemnation. So fearful, that they act either to escape--to run away--or to hurt themselves thinking they have no options in any given situation.

I have to add, because both are so entwined these days... At the same time, consider the irony of this being called by Christians, Pro-Life... While NOT being willing to ban assault rifles to stop the murder of children of all ages, as they live, go to school, to church, shopping... No way around it...the logic of the republican party and the Supreme Court related to PRO-LIFE  IS NON-EXISTENT! No wonder we are ALL confused with what is going on in America...

Except in placing power within hands where it does not belong!

 It is quite easy to see how Elisa has grown to be leery about anything she might do or want to do. For, like many, she has not been able to find support from where it should be freely given. Based upon those early years, we see Elisa moving from depression into joy often... The key point is that, she has self-taught herself that she, by now, even as she fears for her life, can and should consider just exactly what she must do related to each situation. And, most of all, she has come to know and accept as her primary determinant, that she will do what is best for those she loves most--her husband, her children...

Yet, when she learns that her tumors are spreading, or they are

growing larger, she, just like the rest of us, becomes so scared, even to the point that the pain of the tests themselves, makes her hesitate. Can she continue to put herself through the torturous processes through which she must go to allow a certain part of her body be approached--without damaging another part....

And, each time, readers see her weighing

 Face Cage worn during radiation

options, seeking help or support, even to writing to monks in South America, for prayer... and, once again, allowing herself to go through the pain with the thought of ensuring her family be together for however much longer is possible!

Elisa somewhere took a test to know her greatest strength. It came out Positivity. She was disappointed! While I, nearly twice her age, was thinking that is the best strength anybody could have! To be able, even when feeling depressed or sad, to somehow find your way out of the darkness...and back into the light! Many of us find it hard to move back into the light... But then again, we also don't have a desire to...go through an airport playing her fiddle!

Or when we are in the hospital, seek out others who may need whatever we can give...

When things had totally quieted down and the door shut, the third woman spoke. I leaned forward, grasping onto every word, but she was so terribly hard to understand. “You asked,” she lisped, “what I’ve learned. I haven’t really learned, but it’s been confirmed that life isn’t fair.” 

“You got that right!” She continued to explain that the cancer started in her tongue, and she had to have some of it removed. I blinked back the heat in my eyes because I suddenly knew why she’d been so scared to talk in front of the others. “They’re doing radiation on my neck now.” She spoke slowly. “The cancer... has spread.” “I can’t imagine what you’ve been through. I thought I’d been on one helluva journey!”

“But you don’t look like there’s anything even wrong with you!” A male tech came and called my name. At that point I struggled to stand, and my back had been pulled so badly that I hunched over and tried to walk straight. The woman gasped, surprised at how I walked. “Talking with you was the best part of my day,” I said. “I’m Elisa.” “Sarah,” she said, placing her hand on her chest. 

The gong resounded. Another person had finished infusions. Dozens of people clapped despite the IVs in their arms, and I was sure most of us smiled under our masks. But I wondered if anyone else felt the same way I did. I might never get to hit the gong. I might never be done with stupid infusions. I might never... get... better. I wanted to pick up the mallet and go hit it hundreds of times just to say I have. But I’m not a two-year-old, so I didn’t. I also kept myself from saying any of this out loud. My mother-in-law sat beside me as medicine dripped directly into my veins. And we really were having having the best time playing cards, visiting, and laughing. I didn’t need to mar that with a sob story. A woman near us spoke to a nurse, her words drifting through the partition that separated us. 

“He’s awfully sad. He needs to do this.” My ears perked with interest. Who was sad? Who needed to do what? Then, a man’s voice began singing songs from my childhood—spiritual songs that are hard to forget. And as he quietly sang “How Great Thou Art,”

I wanted to sing with him, this faceless man who sat in another cubicle, and the desire mounted stronger than almost anything in the world. But it seemed embarrassing to sing in front of my mother-in-law and more than fifty other people in the room. Sure, they couldn’t see my face, but they would hear me. “I’ll be right back,” my mother-in-law said as if discerning my thoughts, and when she walked away the man started singing one of my favorite songs in the whole world. “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty.”

I held my mouth shut. I’m not even religious anymore. I go to church, and I love God with all my heart, but I don’t believe most of the things they teach. And yet, I could not control myself. I breathed deeply. I didn’t need to sing with this poor man. Why was the desire overpowering? “Holy,” my voice joined his. “Holy.” The harmony floated atop his deep baritone—matching perfectly in thirds. He must’ve heard me because his voice swelled with strength. He’d been shaky and scared at one point, but now his song grew strong and majestic.

“Almighty God,” the words just flowed. And as we got louder everyone in the room quieted and simply listened to a moment that will always resonate within my soul. We sang several verses and as much as it had grown, it finally came to a quiet, beautiful close. 

When we finished, a woman whispered, “Did you... did you... hear that voice singing with you?” “You heard it too?” the man asked, dumbfounded. And even though we’re not supposed to bother other patients, I grabbed my IV stand, stood from my chair, and peeked over my cubicle. “It was me,” I said, almost giggling. 

A stunning girl of about twenty stared at me with the widest eyes. Her dark skin glowed, and she beamed under her mask. “That was amazing you started singing too. I can’t believe you knew the words.” “Thanks for letting me join in. Hang in there, you two. This isn’t easy.” And although I couldn’t see the man from my angle, I sat down as my mother-in-law returned to the room.

“I sang with him!” I gushed. “It was awesome!” My mother-in-law laughed. She’s the sweetest woman, so full of love even though I’m the most random person ever. The singer and his guest must’ve left soon after because a couple of the nurses came over to me and said, “That man was so sad and scared. His daughter said singing always makes him feel better. And what you both did. Well, that is one of the neatest things we’ve had happen in the infusion room.”

“I couldn’t help myself. But next time, you guys need to join in!” “I really wanted to, but I didn’t know the words. And then I realized, nobody wants to hear me sing,” one of the nurses said, laughing. “Oh, but I do! So, get ready for it. I’ll be back in three weeks. While all of you are singing, I get to play the gong!” I could just see myself going crazy with the gong while everyone sang. It’s probably my favorite memory so far from this crappy cancer business: the time I got to sing with a perfect stranger who found some unexpected strength right there in the infusion unit. I still can’t believe they momentarily thought I was a real, live angel!

She got a mischievous grin. “Well, I’m not the one who painted it, but I know who did. And those notes on there... well, they might actually be a real song. Maybe you should try playing it.” So, that afternoon Mike and I pulled out my violin and asked the kids if they could video us as I tried deciphering the notes from the rock. Mike had to hold it on his lap, since it’s so heavy. But he said he’d rotate it slowly as I finished each section. Indy began recording as Trey sat and watched. The notes came out tranquilly tranquilly at first. I had no idea what the song might be until we reached the third measure. After that, the melody swelled inside of my chest, and the meaning behind the words shot through my heart and my fingers. I could hardly believe what song the artist had chosen: “You Raise Me Up.” The words empowered me as my bows skillfully danced across the strings. I thought of standing strong and braving stormy seas. My violin rose to new registers as I willed myself to “be more” and totally trust in God’s will...

Everyone wants to die well, valiantly, in a way that will make our loved ones proud. I didn’t want to be a sniveling person begging to end the pain or crying out for more life. At the Yom Kippur meeting, they talked about forgiving ourselves and others, about releasing ourselves from vows we’d felt forced to make, or vows we made but could no longer keep. I remembered my New Year’s resolution for 2020. “I vow to become as refined as possible,” I’d said quietly to myself. More than a year of hell later, refinement didn’t sound quite as romantic. That’s a vow I’d like to forget. 

When I returned to the synagogue for the second Yom Kippur meeting the next day, I had no idea what to expect, but I knew one thing: It was time to let go of refinement and unattainable goals of perfection.

“God,” I prayed during one of the songs, “I get it now. We were never made to be perfect. I might as well be chasing rainbows, trying to reach my self-imposed goals. Can you please just love me, always, as I am? I make more mistakes than anyone I know, but I love you with everything. Please be with me in life and when I die too. I feel ridiculous asking for you to heal me, but please have your will in my life.”

About this time, I felt thoughts and words coming into my mind... God Incident Walking Through Me Now, selecting music and more...  

I exhaled, feeling oddly lighter than I had in years. And when I opened my eyes, a strange light shone through the synagogue windows. “Kadosh. Kadosh. Kadosh. The whole world is filled with your glory.” The music seemed more ancient than time, forged by generations of people who unflinchingly revere God. 

Given the power of the music and the place itself, maybe it shouldn’t be surprising that when I looked down, something surreal unfolded: The sun shot through the glowing stained glass and highlighted specific words on the program I held. I read the accentuated words. “We are filled with your strength. The strength to bear our afflictions. Add your strength to ours, oh God. So that when death casts its shadow we shall yet be able to say: ‘Oh Source of Blessing. You are with us in death as in life.’ 

Those words. I can’t tell you the power of the words “in death as in life.” I knew then God would never abandon me. 

A powerful musician stood in front of the congregation and blew the shofar horn with such beautiful resonance that it stunned me. The blast lasted much longer than I’d expected, then went up a fifth and continued until it vibrated me to the core. I cried right there, my program still illuminated as I shook, my burdens lifted, and my heart full. Before the “break the fast” celebration, I managed to catch a couple of pictures of my program before the lighting changed too much. The whole world really is filled with His glory.

Dear Friend, My Elisa,

How are you? I just had to send a note to tell you how much I care about you. 

I saw you yesterday as you were talking with your friends. I waited all day hoping you would want to talk with me too. I gave you a sunset to close your day and a cool breeze to rest you--and I waited. You never came. It hurt me--but I still love you because I am your friend.

I saw you sleeping last night and longed to touch your brow so I spilled moonlight upon your face. Again I waited, wanting to rush down so we could talk. I have so many gifts for you. You awoke and rushed off to other things. My tears were in the rain.

If you would only listen to me! I love you! I try to tell you in blue skies and in the quiet green grass! I try to whisper it in leaves on the trees and breathe it in colors of flowers, shout it to you in mountain streams, give the birds love songs to sing. And brought other, stronger, birds outside your window, to tell I'm here to protect you. I clothe you with warm sunshine and perfume the air with nature scents. My love for you is deeper than the ocean and bigger than the biggest need in your heart!

Ask me! Talk with me! Please don't forget me...You knew me long before that false prophet came into your life, who used my name to exorcise something that was not my will for him to do... I still love you and have so much to share with you! Wipe those memories from your mind as I now speak to you alone... I need no other to speak for me, other than what I have placed in your heart--My Holy Spirit... My words will guide you each day if you will open your ears to hear my words... I do love you... I died for you... That ensures that you will be with Us Always...Yes, for Eternity...just as you long for...

I won't hassle you any further. It is YOUR decision. I have chosen you and I will wait-- I love you. I really am in no hurry... I am the Holy Trinity--God, the Father, Yeshua the Son. and I will give you His Spirit's gifts to dwell inside of you... Whenever you are ready... And you will never feel alone again. Or Wonder if You Will Abide in me Always... Because, I AM... And I Love You Elisa, Child of My Heart!

Your Friend

Jesus*

*Adapted from The Letter

Guest Blogger Harold Michael Harvey Shares Essay and Prayer for New Year...

http://haroldmichaelharvey.com/

No, I have never met my guest blogger, Harold Michael Harvey, but since I first got to know him on line, I've come to trust, admire and respect him. Especially after reading both of his books. I was so pleased therefore, when he agreed to visit Book Readers Heaven... I chose today, as we look both backward and forward, because many of us  are concerned about what may be happening in the new year... First, let me share a recent published essay by our guest...

Skeptical 70,000 black voters abstained from presidential vote

BY HAROLD MICHAEL HARVEY, CONTRIBUTOR - 12/19/16 06:20 PM EST

Previously Published on The Hill, 

Should 70,000 uncounted black votes cast in Detroit during last month’s general election matter? Are black voters like black lives in that they matter in American politics? Should black votes have the same chance of being counted as other American votes?
Detroit is not a 100 percent black city, but an overwhelming majority of her residents are black Americans.
Former presidential candidate Dr. Jill Stein’s challenge to election results in Michigan and Pennsylvania ended in a crushing defeat. Federal court decisions halted recount efforts in both states. Although her recount challenge in Wisconsin played out to conclusion. She did not get a win there either. It resulted in President-Elect Trump increasing his victory total over Secretary Hillary Clinton by more than 1,000 votes.
Thanks to Stein’s call for a recount in Michigan, it was revealed that over 70,000 ballots cast in Detroit, Michigan were not counted in the presidential contest.
According to Michigan election officials, the 70,000 ballots were counted in down-ballot voting, but it could not be determined whom those 70,000 voters had selected for president. So the votes were tossed out. Had Clinton received those 70,000 votes, she would have won the state of Michigan hands down.
When the recount was ordered shut-down, those (probably largely black) votes were, metaphorically speaking, flushed down the toilet and there is no longer a legal means to have them reviewed by human eyes and counted by hand. Without recounts in other states, we have no way of knowing if other large urban areas, where black people tend to reside, had a big pool of votes discarded because the voting machine allegedly could not determine who the voter intended to select.
This blatant disenfranchisement of Black voters in Detroit follows a recent erosion of protections under the 1965 Voting Rights Act by the Supreme Court. In Shelby County, Alabama v. Eric Holder (2013), the Supreme Court destroyed section 5 of the Voters Rights Act by disallowing key provisions of the Act as being unconstitutional. Before Shelby, certain states and local governments had to obtain federal preclearance before implementing any changes to their voting laws or practices. While section 4(b) established a formula that determined which jurisdictions are subjected to pre-clearance based on their histories of discrimination in voting.
Two Michigan political sub-divisions came within the ambit of section 5 and 4(b), historically, Detroit did not fall within the purview of the act. Yet it is clear, given the callous response from Michigan election official.s, that “70,000 Detroit voters were so distraught with both major party candidates that they declined to vote for any candidate,” that the Supreme Court was wrong in its 5-4 decision in 2013, which weakened federal protections for black voters in state and federal elections.
Considering the fact that many black Americans believed the 2016 presidential election was their most important vote in the last 140 years, it is ludicrous to think that 70,000 of them in Detroit alone would elect not to vote for president. Many black Americans feared a Trump win would bring back the days of segregation and a resurgence of Klu Klux Klan activity. They were motivated to vote against his candidacy on this belief.
Personally, based upon 2016 campaign rhetoric, I find it hard to believe that nationwide, 70,000 black Americans voted for Stein, Trump and Gary Johnson combined.
Michigan election officials know that in 2013, the Supreme Court in the Shelby County case did essentially what President Hayes did in 1877, when Hayes removed the federal troops from the South in order to be selected president by the U. S. House of Representatives.
State officials no longer fear federal oversight over election laws. It is now possible for large demographics to be disenfranchised without recourse in the courts. And given the make-up of the Supreme Court, the fact that Trump will have at least four years to fill vacancies on the federal bench and Supreme Court – not to mention the prospect that Alabama Senator Jeff Session will be the next Attorney General - it is likely that other states will resort to the Michigan model for disenfranchising Black voters in federal, state and local political contests.
Suddenly, America feels a lot like it felt growing up black in the south in the 1950s. During that period, it was painfully clear that black lives did not matter and black voters were not welcomed at the polls.
Unquestionably, black lives should matter as much as all others in America. Black voters should have their votes counted too, along with the votes of other Americans. As a future best practice, when the electronic voting machines cannot determine how to apply a citizen’s vote, laws must require each such ballot to be processed by human eyes and counted by hand. If after human inspection, it cannot be deciphered, the voters should be given a chance to come back to the polls and cast that vote over again.

~~~

To me, Harvey's essay is symptomatic...It is not totally in the details presented that we must be concerned--it is about what this, plus so many other questionable actions, represents to us, our nation, the world... That's why I asked our guest to lead us in prayer for the new year... Will it be a happy one?

Gracious Creator of all that is and all that will ever be. Look kindly upon the earth in 2017. After all we are mere humans. We love, we hate, we make mistakes. We forgive and we are unforgivable. Some of us know you and some of us do not care to know you. Your life force is in all, yet a mystery to us. We see you move on the earth, but we can not decipher what you are doing or where you are going. We are at your mercy. Protect us from ourselves and from world leaders, some of whom we elected and others who have imposed their will upon us. Direct our path through the time-space continuum humankind call 2017. And when we pause in 365 days hence to reflect on the meaning of 2,017, we will pay homage to you for bringing us safely to that day. Amen. 

~~~

Our Father, 
I pray for those men and women, who like Harold Michael Harvey, speak out and against those things that negatively affect America...We are, indeed, a nation under God, we pray You will hear thoughts of fear from those of us seeing, possibly, a different world of tomorrow... Guide the path of each American, hearing your words of Wisdom and Love. For in that way, we can work to strengthen and hold on to what is right and good and just... We pray for those across the world that senses a different America and are also afraid... God Bless us one and all...

~~~

Harold Michael Harvey is an American award winning journalist, former lawyer, political pundit, novelist, essayist and publisher. He earned a degree in Political Science from Tuskegee Institute and a Juris Doctorate degree from Atlanta Law School. Harvey was honored for “Outstanding Work in Newspaper Journalism,” in 1976 by the National Newspaper Publishers Association. The Gate City Bar Association bestowed upon him their prestigious R. E. Thomas Civil Rights Award in 1996 after Harvey represented over 180 college students arrested in the City of Atlanta during a black college spring break ritual known as “Freaknic.”

Harvey is the author of the critically acclaimed legal thriller, Paper Puzzle. It was originally published in 2009 and republished in 2011 after Harvey formed the Cascade Publishing House to publish his works and the works of other authors who feel more comfortable in a small publishing house.
Cascade Publishing House released their second book on April 4, 2015. The book is a collection of essays by Harold Michael Harvey and is titled, Justice in the Round: Essays on the American Jury System.
In 2016, Cascade Publishing House obtained the rights to publish Charles Steele, Jr.'s book titled, Easier to Obtain Than to Maintain: the Globalization of the Civil Rights Movement. Charles Steele, Jr. is President and CEO of the Southern Christian Leadership conference.
Allvoices.Com assigned Harvey to cover the 2012 Democratic National Convention which was held in Charlotte, North Carolina. Also, they honored him with two semi-monthly American Pundit Awards, once in February 2012 and again in April 2013.
Harvey lives in Atlanta, Georgia with his wife Cynthia, who has doubled as Senior Editor for the past 35 years. Their son Coley is a Sports Reporter for a national broadcast company. When Harvey can convince Cynthia he needs some quiet writing time, he writes in the Great Smoky Mountains.

Thanks so much For sharing, Linda Nance...Especially "Not Today"

Image by dbzer0 via Flickr

Not Today...








I gaze in the mirror and my eyes look weary. I am very tired. I see the creases that time has etched in the skin of my face. I remember when it was once young and my skin was silky and smooth. There is no longer a bloom to my cheeks and sparkle to my eye. I take a deep breath and feel tired.

I really do understand what the doctors said. There are many things in life that I ponder, some that I regret, and many that grieve me, but I understood what they said. It is not that I am in denial or do not believe them. He was kind but honest when he told me I would die...

He had tears in his eyes. I believe him. I felt helpless and frustrated and a strong desire to hold on. I felt angry and afraid. I needed to hold on to life. I needed to hold on to those that I love. I needed to hold on to hope. I decided that even if the doctors were right, well, It was not going to be today. That would be my new motto. Not today. If the time came that I was wrong, it would make no difference because if the subject was the day I would die. Then the answer was...Not Today.

I lived desiring to help others and make a difference. I wanted to reach out. I believed that if you help even one person you made a difference. Time has passed so swiftly. In many ways I feel that life has passed me by. I want to live. I don't want to just be alive. I want to live!

I want to look for the beauty in the world around me. I can't stand the thought of leaving those that I love. I need to be here to help them and share the wonders life has in store, and comfort them in their times of need. I want so many things but I am becoming so tired. It is harder now to see the future as unending. I often feel so alone. In a crowd of people I am still alone.

Only I can tread the last path I have to tread, alone, except I will never really be alone. I have my faith and I believe with all my heart that God will lead me home when the time comes. Years ago, the thought of a home in Heaven with no pain or worries or suffering or confusion was such a comfort. It still is...but not for today.

I know it is coming and I still have so much more I need and want to do. I am so tired all of the time. I need to get going. I do not want to give up. I believe what the doctors said--but, it is not today.

I have so much more that I want to do. I am not finished. My time will eventually come, just not, Please Lord, not today...








Linda Nance...