Category: life

Everyone dies eventually.  What happens after that is anyone’s guess.  And the guesses are quite varied!  We have people who believe nothing happens because dead is dead, we have people who believe we will go to either Heaven or Hell, still others believe we will enter Purgatory (to account for sins that aren’t lethal enough to warrant going to Hell but must be atoned for before going on to Heaven).  Some people believe we enter a sort of suspended animation as we await the coming of Christ.  I think the premise of this belief is that those who died before this wondrous event occurs will rise up again and live in glory with the savior (at least those who are DESERVING will do so, all others, of course are burning in Hell).  Still others believe that peoples’ spirits can become trapped here (on Earth) for various reasons (untimely death, violent death, unfinished business, etc.).  These people are commonly referred to as ghosts.  I call them spirits.  There’s a difference (in my book anyway) between the two.  Ghosts are but echoes of energy left behind by a person or animal (energy that was super-charged by a strong emotion most likely).  Emotion fuels energy and that energy can become imprinted on an object or an area.  Since energy cannot be destroyed, it lasts forever.  Thus, ghostly hauntings that are centuries old! Since physicists believe the past, present, and future exist simultaneously, then time is of no consequence.  An event that happened centuries ago, is actually happening now and so the energy remains strong!  I know, it can hurt your brain thinking about all this.  Spirits, on the other hand, are people in their spiritual form whose physical bodies have died.  These spirits, however, have not moved on to Heaven or Hell or wherever it is they are supposed to go.  These are the “ghosts” that can communicate with the living.

There’s still another guess on what happens to us when we die and it’s called reincarnation.  The belief on this one is that after we die, we might spend a bit of time in the “hereafter” (reviewing our life maybe?  There’s a rather interesting movie about this idea, actually, called “Defending Your Life“, a favorite of mine) and then we come back, we are reborn!  And we get to live another life as a whole new person (hopefully we learned enough to warrant a better life than the last!).  This is the belief that I share in.  But I also think the other beliefs have some merit.  Let me explain.

One of the above has to be the right answer, yes?  How about all of them?  If our beliefs are what drives the vehicle of our soul, then our beliefs will determine our after death experience.  If I’m wrong, well, no harm done, I’ll eventually learn the truth (yeah for me!) or I will become nothing (bummer).  I suppose some might even say I’m off to Hell (big time bummer!!) Here’s the thing, I believe we are Beings of Spirit, part of God – the Spirit of ALL that exists.  Spiritual Beings cannot become nothing.  It’s a scientific fact that our bodies are made up of charged particles of energy.  And as I’ve already mentioned, energy cannot be destroyed.  Ever.  As for Hell, well I have some ideas on that too.

I just do not believe that a child of God (you and me!) will go directly to Hell for eternity (key word here is “eternity”) after one measly ole life in which we ended up committing various sins.  The odds aren’t good, folks, that we’re going to live a worthy enough life to enter the Kingdom of Heaven.  I mean, really.  Aren’t we all “born sinners”?  Aren’t we HUMAN?  And to “err” is human, right?  Is our loving Father really going to send us to Hell for a few mistakes, some of which we might not even have known were mistakes? (some people believe that ignorance is not an excuse!!)  Surely not!  No matter how deserving some people might be for a fate like that!  I know, I KNOW!!  Some of you are saying, “But evil people deserve to go there!”  However much we may believe that (no crime deserves to go unpunished), I just can’t see a loving God sending one of its own off into an eternity in Hell.

Some people are born into a life of crime, it’s all they know, how they were raised, was all they were taught.  Is it fair that they should head off to Hell FOREVER because of the unfortunate circumstance of their birth?  Just bear with me a moment on this.  Consider that even the most hated of people had someone who loved them.  If someone loved them and that someone is part of God (because we are all “sons and daughters” of God), then surely God loves them too?  Even as we enraged Americans might wish someone like Bin Laden an eternity in Hell, the fact is, even he had people who loved him.  Those people who loved him are not going to wish him an eternity in Hell, even if they might not agree with what he did.  Those that hate him (just to be clear here, God does not hate…HUMANS hate) believe that is just what he deserves.  Who is right? Of course those whose lives he wrecked, they are going to think they are justified to believe in his eternal damnation but just as equally, those who loved him believe he did what had to be done (please understand, I am NOT defending that man! I am horrified by his actions and life choices).  And as for those who stand in his corner, I’m sure there are many who will say they are all in the wrong too and should join him in Hell as soon as their lives have ended! But the Bin Laden supporters, they believe otherwise.  They believe what they do because that is how they were raised.  That is the environment they are living in.  I am sure to their way of thinking, we (those whom apposed Bin Laden) are the evil ones.  So again, those poor misled people are all victims of circumstance (or we are depending on whose side your on!).   Are they not worth another chance, another life circumstance so that they may learn differently? Reincarnation offers that chance.

There are good people who have loved “monsters”, those who committed heinous crimes, and although those good people were sick with disgust for the crimes committed, they still loved the person who committed them.  If that person is loved by even ONE other, and God is love, then doesn’t that mean that God loves that person too?  If so, how can God then send that person off to Hell without any chance of redemption?  Love, in its true sense of the word, just isn’t going to allow something like that to happen.  Seriously.  Do you know how long an eternity is?  There’s no end.

Now, I’m not saying Hell doesn’t exist.  Evil exists (it’s an undeniable fact) and on the spiritual side of life, beings of evil (demons, for example) flourish in that awful place known to us as Hell.  Let me also clarify that demons are not in the same category as we “human” souls.  People…extensions of God…you and me…we are the ones whom I believe will not be sent directly to Hell for all eternity without being given a chance to redeem ourselves (reincarnation).  For those who believe otherwise, well they’ll experience what they believe they will experience.  If they think they will be off to Hell then off to hell they go (but not really, they will enter into a state of hell that they believe exists, and there they stay until rescued).  By whom?  Well, I believe God’s angels are on the look out for these “lost souls” and will help them out of their misery.  Then, it’s off to a new life where maybe they’ll learn a little more truth on the whole process!

Another question.  What about all the prisoners who spent the rest of their lives in jail, paying the price for their sins?  Do they get off going to Hell for good behavior or time served?  Some might answer with: “Well, if they are sorry for what they did and have asked God to forgive them, then no, they don’t go to hell. The others, though, they are toast!”  From a loving perspective (through God’s eyes) is this really fair?

The other thing that gets me is this:  If an evil doer, let’s say a mass murderer, realizes in the last moments of his life that what he’s done is awful and asks for forgiveness, the general belief is that he will not go to Hell.  So, he just gets away with it?  All that murdering and in the last moments of life says, “Sorry, please forgive me” and it’s a done deal?  He skips merrily into heaven?  Or maybe he hangs out in purgatory for awhile before skipping merrily into heaven?  In the end, he’s still going to heaven.  And he killed masses of people.  How fair is that?

Now, given the example above, the murderers that die without asking for forgiveness, they must, according to typical Christian belief, head directly to Hell.  Only, I am willing to bet that in their death, some of them are going to see the error or their ways, be truly horrified and ask God for forgiveness.  Who’s to say that can’t happen?  We are back here in the land of the living thinking happy thoughts that a monster is now burning in Hell when in reality he’s seeing the error of his ways and wants to make up for it somehow.  Enter reincarnation.  I honestly think this is the best system of fairness to all.

I know this much.  As a parent of three biological children and step-mother to four, I would never send one of my kids off to Hell no matter what they did.  Even if they committed evil deeds.  I’m going to hate the evil deeds and be sick to death that they did something awful, but I’m not going to stop loving the child I remember and the person I know they are despite the deeds they’ve done.  If I, a lesser being than God, cannot do it, then how is God, unmotivated by human emotion and functioning only on Love…how is God going to do it?  Makes no sense.  If my choices for my naughty child are: an eternity in hell OR a new life in which said child gets a chance to redeem him or herself…well, as the loving parent, I want to give them another chance! I would never forgive myself if I sent my child to an eternity in Hell without giving them the opportunity to learn the error of their ways.  Even Jesus, as he hung from the cross, had only loving thoughts for those who put him there, “Forgive them, Father, for they know not what they do”!!

I hear these laments over and over again: “Life isn’t fair”, “It’s not fair”, “How unfair” … well, folks, reincarnation makes it all fair.  It levels the field, gives us all a chance no matter our circumstances of birth.  Everyone deserves a fair chance to earn their entry into Heaven.  So, if reincarnation is a fact of life, and we come back to earth, reborn as a new person with new possibilities, then we need to be thankful for this new chance, REJOICE in it, make the best of it!!  Those who fail (the “sinners”), they gotta come back again until they learn to live a sin-free life.  Hopefully.  Can some people choose the low road each and every time and become evil?  I wonder.  Those who manage to “see the light” of God and live a sinless life, they don’t have to come back.  They get to graduate from the school of Earth and move on to other adventures!

In the mean time, as I struggle through this life that has its hardships and rewards, its ups and downs, I know that I am on the road to redemption and need to make the best of it.  I’m not perfect.  I’ve thought bad thoughts, said bad things, committed things believed to be “sinful”, but I don’t consider myself a bad person.  I certainly am not an evil one!  I don’t think I quite deserve a free pass into Heaven just yet and so I will probably come back again (big heartfelt sigh).  I can only hope my next life won’t be full of so many obstacles and strife.  I think those who live the “good life” are those who are getting it right, they’ve learned a lot, but have just a tad bit more to learn.  I think I have a LOT more to learn but I’m going to seek that knowledge while I’m here, give myself a better chance when I’m not.  Each and every life we live teaches us something important.  Just as each and every experience we have in life teaches us something important!  Life is a learning process.  An evolution of our soul.  By the time we’re done, we are going to be a well-rounded, loving, SINLESS individual because we’ll have experienced it all!!

So that’s my take on things.  Agree?  Disagree?  Have any other ideas?  Truly, I’d love to hear from you.  Until then … Blessings to you and Peace Out!!

United States Air Force Basic Military Trainin...

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Veterans’ Day has come to mean so much to me, not just because I served in the Air Force for 20 years, but because of all the great veterans I’ve been privileged to know and meet.  It’s been eight years since I retired from service.  I admit to the fact that I was looking forward to being a civilian again, but it didn’t take me long to miss my military life and the camaraderie of the military “peeps”.

I joined the Air Force because I wanted to be part of something important.  I wanted to be useful.  I wanted to get out of Maine and “see the world”.  When I left for Basic Training, I knew that I was truly leaving my childhood behind and heading out into the world as a self-contained adult.  It was exciting and terrifying.  Basic Training was tough for me at first.  The physical demands were more than anything I’d ever had to endure.  My gosh, we RAN all the time, run here, run there, run, run, run!!  I must have dropped ten pounds and believe me, at that time of my life, dropping ten pounds was significant!  I remember writing home (calls were scheduled and limited), tears dripping on the stationary, as I cried my despair at the horrible decision I had made.

I spent my high school years reading and writing.  Those are pretty sedentary activities.  Being on the move from daybreak to sundown was tough.  I didn’t think I could do it, all the running and all the exercises.  And most terrifying yet…the obstacle course looming ahead.  I just KNEW I was going to fail.  I was the second shortest in our flight.  That meant that when in formation, I was all the way in the back.  The tall, long-legged girls set the pace for all the marching and running that we did.  I had a hell of a time keeping up with them.  My Training Instructor (TI) realized my struggle and was always in my face (literally!). He was short too so he’d stand toe-to-toe with me, spittle flying, as he yelled abuse…I was weak, I was useless, I couldn’t do it, I should just quit.  I was totally demoralized in those first couple weeks.

Basic Training Flight 108

My first few phone calls home were done in tears.  I wanted to prove I was worthy of the military, I didn’t want to be a failure, but I didn’t have any faith in myself.  My mom disagreed.  She’d say, “But you’re doing it, Deborah!  It’s been (x-amount-of-days) and you are still there!”   She’d tell me to not let that mean ole TI win.  She’d bolster me up and I’d get off the phone determined to do what I needed to do to live up to mom’s belief in me.  Let me tell you, those letters from home were my lifeline! Thank God for the support of my friends and family.

As the days passed and I accomplished each task, every push-up, every mile and a half run, every test, every inspection … I found myself walking around with a sense of WORTH.  Putting on that uniform MEANT something.  The military showed me that I could do ANYTHING.  The military showed me how very capable I am.  I learned that I could indeed offer something useful to my country.  I walked straighter, my head held high (not with arrogance, but self-assured and proud…not just of me but of each and every other person who had served in the military).  I felt a connection to them all.  We were a military force of ONE nation under God!

I realized in the last days at Basic Training that the military had tore me down, that weak shell of a person I was, and built me back up into a dedicated, selfless, proud-to-be-serving, STRONG individual.  I was a member of the United States Air Force and I LOVED it.

How long ago those days were.  Another lifetime.  So many things would happen to me in the twenty years that followed.  Lots of drama and heartache and hardships and struggles.  But it was all worth it.

What we do, those of us who have served and are serving, is a selfless thing.  It really is.  Even if we joined for the education benefits or to travel or because there was nothing else to do or for whatever reason, even if it wasn’t just for the right to serve our country, we all ended up doing just that.  We sacrificed and sacrificed and sacrificed.  And you know what?  Most of us were proud to do it.  I know I was.  And so was my husband who served in the Air Force for 28 years (my hero) and my father who served for 30 years in the Army (another hero of mine) and all my other family members who served and are serving (my son-in-law is currently in the Air Force).  It’s a big deal what we did, what those who are still serving are doing.  We are a necessary part of our nations continued existence!!!!

So, God Bless America and every single service member, past and present, who has kept her people living in freedom, enjoying the rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness!

Halloween is an interesting time of year.  It’s bright with Fall colors, fun with pumpkin art and dressed up scarecrows.  It’s scary creepy with ghost tours and haunted houses.  I think the huge attraction of Halloween is the carefree scare factor.  The SAFE tricks of terror.  We love to be scared so long as we’re safe.  I’ve attended and worked at many Halloween tours of fake haunted houses, haunted campgrounds, haunted woods and the like.  The people who come out for these attractions do so with the hopes of getting the living daylights scared out of them.  But they are willing to risk such fear so long as they know they are safe.  I get this a lot, “Will anyone touch me?”, “They won’t really hurt us or anything will they?”  Yeah, they want total reassurance before embarking on the tour into fake hell.  Despite assurances that no one will be touched, many of them go through the experience screaming in terror and maneuvering desperately to escape possible contact.  Children cry because it’s all so very real to them and big people scream because they suspend belief for just a few minutes and accept that the horror before them could be as real as the children think it is.

I like going through these concocted attractions for the “jump” factor.  If someone manages to startle me suddenly, my heart skips and whether I want to or not, a scream often follows.  Fun stuff.  That little burst of adrenalin that accompanies such moments is quite a rush.  Maybe that’s what this is all about…getting a rush without the use of harmful drugs!  The gory scenes and small “plays” enacted in some of these scary Halloween attractions don’t scare me but I do enjoy watching people make fools of themselves pretending to eat fake body parts and mess around with fake blood.  I’ll take fun however I can get it!

We experience many moments in our lives, the ones we remember best are the ones that elicit terror, sadness and extreme joy.  Halloween isn’t for sad moments or joyful ones (at least not for the most part!).  As a kid, Halloween was about dressing up and getting candy.  Fun stuff.  As a teenager, Halloween was about haunted houses and scary movies.  As an adult Halloween is about decorating, scaring others and spooky stories (the book stores are full of horror books during October).

It really is a whole different kind of scared when you think your life is really about to end, though.  I should know.  I had one particularly terrifying moment in which I thought exactly that.  I was eighteen at the time and visiting friends in another state.  One night I was sitting at a small desk in the kitchen talking on the phone to a guy I’d met while out dancing the night before.  The only light was from the small desk lamp.  The rest of the family (three girls about my age, their brother who was ten, and their mother) were all in the living room watching a movie.  I heard the garage door open but didn’t pay it any attention.  The door was to the left of the desk.  I was so engrossed in my conversation that it took a moment for the heavy breathing to penetrate my consciousness.  I remember turning to look for the cause of the sound and then freezing in shock.  I literally could not move.  I wanted to scream, but no sound would come out of my suddenly useless mouth. Bruce (the guy I was talking to) rattled on, totally unaware of the major drama unfolding on the other end of the line.

The person standing before me was wearing a black ski mask, a long black trench coat, black boots, and black gloves.  In his hand was the longest, sharpest, shiniest knife I had ever seen.  He held it up high in his right hand, poised to strike.  My eyes focused on that shiny blade (it caught the light from the desk) which moved in unison with his breathing.  My thoughts scattered in many directions all at once and yet somehow I managed to keep track of them all.  My immediate concern was the rest of the family sitting unaware in the living room.  I accepted that I was going to die.  Truly, my top priority in that horrifying moment was to warn the others, though I wasn’t sure how I was going to manage it since I couldn’t make a sound.  I wondered if I’d get my voice back while the knife was striking and if I could live long enough, thus keeping the killer occupied long enough, to allow the others to escape.  As those rather heroic thoughts flitted through my mind, my whole life flashed before my eyes (yeah, it really happens, it’s not just a cliche) .  I thought of everyone I knew and loved and all the wonderful moments I had with them.  I was grateful for the good moments and filled with regret for the bad ones.  I thought of all the fights and upsets and how stupid they all now seemed.  In those few seconds, so many things crowded my mind.  Why hadn’t I done more with my life?  Why hadn’t I been a better daughter, sister, friend?  If only I could do it all over again.  But no, at eighteen, my life was about to end by the blade of a sharp knife.  I wondered if it would hurt.  I wondered if I should close my eyes.  I must have been an amusing sight sitting there as still as death, my mouth opening and closing, my eyes wide, afraid to blink.  Speaking of my eyes, I wondered what to do with them.  Shut them so I wouldn’t SEE the knife descent or keep them open?  What to do?  Eyes open?  Eyes shut?  Strange thoughts for sure.

Suddenly the person starts laughing and the hand holding the knife drops down.  The other gloved hand pulls the mask off.  It’s one of the girls I was visiting.  Reaction set in.  I dropped the phone and began to shake all over.  I wanted to cry with relief but could do nothing but hyperventilate.  My heart which seemed to have stopped only moments before, was suddenly pounding furiously.  I nearly sank into a boneless heap onto the floor.  I wanted to tell her that the joke was not funny.  But I couldn’t make anything sound coherent.  That mouth of mine which could prattle on for hours was quite useless in a crisis! Ronnie (the girl) put her finger to her lips to indicate I was to say nothing and replaced the ski mask on her head.  Before I could stop her, she went running down the hall to scare the rest of her family. For some reason, she didn’t use the kitchen entrance into the living room.  I managed to stand up and shakily make my way to the livingroom doorway where I wordlessly watched the terror unfold.  Ronnie’s mother saw her first.  She was laying on a couch which had direct line of sight to the hallway.  She turned her head to look and immediately screamed.  She had no problems with body parts refusing to move as she jumped up onto the couch and did a wild in-place run.  Waving her hands in a wide arc, she screamed in a terrified-but-determined-to-save-her-children voice that they needed to run! RUN! RUN!  The two girls sitting on the floor jumped up in unison, a move that couldn’t have been more perfectly choreographed.   Instead of running, they stood stock still, hands on chest, and screamed.  I knew they probably couldn’t run because their legs wouldn’t budge but I thought it interesting they had no problem getting their vocal cords to work.  Their young brother scrambled up onto the back of the couch where he’d been lounging and crouched there, screaming over and over and over.  Were this a real intruder, we all would have died.  Well, maybe not the mother.  Her body was working just fine.  Though why she jumped up on the couch I don’t know.  Maybe it’s what people do when excited.  Didn’t Tom Cruise do that once?

Thankfully, Ronnie realized that the terror she was eliciting was really not acceptable and quickly removed her mask.  Soon as her mother realized it was her daughter and that they weren’t about to be slain to death, she jumped off the couch and nearly killed said daughter!  She grabbed Ronnie’s shoulders and shook her hard.  “You stupid girl, I could have killed you!  If I had had anything to strike you with, I would have done it. Don’t you EVER do anything like this again.”  We had to pull her off.  I knew it was a total adrenaline charge taking over.  We had all truly believed we were going to die.  The horror of that doesn’t just seep away.

What that incident taught me were several things. 1)  Don’t pull a supposed life-threatening prank on someone who will believe the danger is REAL, there’s no telling how they might react…they might just shoot first and ask questions later!  2) Your life really does flash before your eyes…every moment and every day of it!  3) Arguments and disagreements mean NOTHING when facing the end of your life.  4) We need to show appreciation towards our loved ones more (I couldn’t remember the last time I’d told my family that I loved them and that bothered me immensely).  5) When terrified, we cannot move and we cannot think rationally.  If we could just push the panic down when facing danger and allow our brains to THINK clearly, we’d probably find a way out of the mess. 6)  Don’t rant and rave at the stupid actors on TV when they stand there and allow their gruesome ends to occur. They are doing what would probably happen in truth.  If your body knows it canNOT escape, it will freeze in terror.  7) You probably aren’t as selfish as you might think.  I truly was concerned for the others even as I thought my own life was over. And finally, adrenalin overload makes your body as weak as a kitten once the danger has passed. Something to keep in mind if you ever go through a traumatic event.

Fear is a rush of excitement caused by a flood of adrenalin in the body.  That’s all well and good.  Enjoy the rush.  But when inducing that fear, keep it at acceptable levels.  Jump at people, scream suddenly, rev that chainless chainsaw, spurt the fake blood, chomp on plastic body parts but don’t ever make someone think they might really die.

Hope you all have a great, scary fun Halloween!!!

The first few years in the military, my spiritual focus gave way to other matters.  However, during times of emotional upheaval, it would return in the form of a quest to discover WHY.  Often, when in this phase, I would have some pretty profound dreams. Because I wasn’t sure how the military would react to my beliefs (some of them considered to be on the occult side…i.e palm reading, reincarnation, etc), I kept my convictions on those topics to myself.  But, as time went on, I began to relax my caution a little.  And of course, that led to my first snag.

I was stationed in Italy at the time and going through one of my spiritual awakening phases.  I was having regular communications with my spirit guide (through automatic writing and channeling) and having some really cool dreams!  Curious about them, I began buying all sorts of books on dream interpretation (didn’t have the internet going at this time darn it!).  One day I stopped to chat with a couple girls in the administrative office and we got onto a discussion on dreams.  When I told them I had some dream interpretation books at home, one of the girls asked me to check them and see if I could figure out what her most recent dream might possibly mean.  So I went home at lunch and consulted my books on the issue.  When I returned to work, I stopped by her office to tell her what I learned.  My section chief (my boss’s boss) was present at the time.  He looked busy and didn’t seem to be paying attention to us so we finished our discussion and I headed back to my own duty section.  I walk in the door and there’s a phone call for me.  It’s my section chief.  He wants to see me in his office…now.

I turn around and head for his office.  I see the grim expression on his face and I knew it wasn’t going to be good.  He tells me with obvious disapproval that he overheard my discussion with the admin girls. He then goes on to tell me that dream interpretation is against the bible and I shouldn’t be doing it, especially not at work.  He pulls a bible out of his drawer and hands it to me with a strong suggestion that I read it.  I guess he figured my soul needed saving.  Since this sort of thing was something I had always expected, I didn’t argue with him.  I assured him I would not discuss those matters at work anymore.  He asked if I was going to continue to do so off duty.  I told him that I probably would.  He launched into a diatribe of all the reasons why I should not.  Since the bible says we shouldn’t do that sort of thing then I was obviously committing a sin.  He felt it his duty to help me see the “error of my ways”.  I asked him where in the bible it said that and his reply was to tap the book he had handed me.  “Read that.”  Discussion over.  As I turn to leave, he says, “Don’t ever let me hear you talking about that stuff while on duty.”

Now, the thing that gets me about this is what happened THE VERY NEXT DAY.  I go into work and he’s waiting for me outside his office building.  He waves me inside.  I figured he wanted to know if I’d started reading that bible yet.  But no, that is not why he wanted to speak to me.  It so happens he had a dream the night before which he thought was quite profound and he wanted to tell me about it.  He said he saw Jesus coming towards him out of the clouds and that everyone around him ran away out of fear.  He did not run, however, but dropped to his knees and waited.  He said he felt incredible joy and was sure that Jesus was going to take him away but then he woke up. He stressed how real the dream had seemed and it was obvious he was deeply affected by it.  I listened quietly, wondering the whole time what he was up to?  When he finished telling me about the dream, he looked at me expectantly and says, “What do you think it means?”  I thought, “Trick question.  He’s trying to trap me.”  So I simply shrug and say, “I don’t know and you just told me yesterday that I shouldn’t be trying to interpret dreams anymore.”  He waves his hand as if to cancel out all he’d said the day before.  “Yes,  but this dream was very profound.  I think Jesus is trying to tell me something.  I really would like to know what you think about it.”  So I look at him and I wonder what I’m supposed to do?  Finally I said, “What do you think it means?”  He says, “I think Jesus is trying to tell me that I am on the right track.  That someday I will be with him.”  So I nod.  “Well then, that is probably what it means.”  He smiles.  “Thank you.  And forget about what I said yesterday.”  An about face on the whole “dream interpretation is a sin” belief? How strange.  I walked out of there totally baffled.  To this day, I’m still trying to figure it out.  You know, he continued to tell me his dreams after that.  Life truly is stranger than fiction.

I have found that when I am focused on spiritual stuff, my dreams are pretty interesting.  Thought provoking.  There’s one dream in particular that I really want to share with you because the premise of it could apply to anyone.  I dreamed a close friend and I were sitting in a church (so obviously this was about God).  The church was arranged like an amphitheater with semi-circle rows of red-carpeted stairs facing the pulpit area which was as large as a stage.  The priest, dressed in a purple robe (purple is supposed to denote spirituality) stood in the center of the stage and beckoned for us to come receive communion.  I took this as symbology for accepting God (since that is pretty much what it symbolizes for the Catholics).  Everyone in the room formed a line along the wall farthest from where we were sitting.  My friend and I stood up and I headed for the end of the line.  It took forever to get to that priest.  I remember waiting and waiting for we inched along slowly.  The line circled around to the back of the stage which was crowded with stuff, large crates and whatnot, which we had to climb over.  By the time I reached the priest, I was sweating from the excursion and tired from the long wait.  I accepted my communion and went back to my seat.  My friend was sitting there waiting for me looking refreshed and relaxed.  I asked how she got there ahead of me.  She said, “I didn’t get in that long line like you did.   I just walked right up the center isle and received my communion.”

That dream really made me think.  The conclusion I came to was that it symbolizes how many of us function “as a rule” (and yes, there is always the exception!).  We often follow each other instead of making our own way.  We take the “road most traveled”.  We go through crap, we work hard to “find God” and yet it’s really a pretty simple process.  There’s no need to go through anything.  We can simply approach God on our own.  No bother.  No fuss.  No waiting.  No struggle.  No work.  The dream implies that we’ll all get to the same place eventually … whether we take the long, tough road or the short, easy one.  So which one are you taking? Unfortunately, I’m still on the tough one.

If anyone else has had a profound dream they would like to share, I’d love to hear it! Blessings to you and happy dreaming!

The Stephen King Influence

I read an article on Stephen King recently and it made me think about how much this man, whom I only met briefly, has influenced my life.  Sure, he’s provided countless hours of reading enjoyment, but he has done so much more than that.

I was in the eighth grade when I read his book Carrie.  It was my first foray into horror as I was mostly reading romances at this point.  But since Stephen King lived in the same state as I did, and not far away from me at that, I figured I needed to read something from Maine’s celebrated author. Besides, a couple friends suggested I read it! I was hooked from page one (good for him to have such a great hook!!). So it was that one day during school, I finished my classwork early and decided to pull my book out and read a few pages.  My math teacher (who also happened to be the school principal) Mr. Mercer, hunkered down beside my desk (I think he was impressed that I was reading a book!) and asked me what I was reading.  I showed him.  He took the book from me and leafed through it.  I could tell from the expression on his face that he was not impressed (sorry Mr. King!).

Mr. Mercer snaps the book shut and looks at me.  I squirm uncomfortably beneath that stare.  It wasn’t good, that look.  I wondered what could be the problem?  Finally he shakes the book at me, his eyes narrowed in displeasure.  “I don’t want to see filth like this in my classroom again.  You put this book away and if I see it again, I will take it away from you.”  He handed me the book though it was pretty clear he wanted nothing more than to toss it into the garbage.  “I can’t believe your parents are letting you read this.  Do they know what you are reading?”

Truly, I was at a loss.  What exactly, was wrong with the book?  He didn’t read but bits and snatches so how could he know anything about it to pass judgment like that?  I asked him what was wrong with the book and he would not clarify. He was too disappointed in me to give me any more of his attention.  I had committed an unforgivable sin apparently.  So, I took the book home and told my mom what happened.  She rolled her eyes, unimpressed with Mr. Mercer’s viewpoint.  Maybe he didn’t like books with blood in it.  I don’t know, but it made me aware of how something simple like a choice of reading material can sway someone’s opinion of you.  In return, however, my opinion of Mr. Mercer had dropped a little as well.  Clearly the man had a closed mind!  No doubt he was thinking that I clearly had a trashed one!

The next Stephen King book I read was The Shining.  I was once again enthralled.  I couldn’t put the book down and it scared the crap out of me (especially as I was living in a haunted house at the time!).   I mention this because it is this book that will later play a very important part in my life choices!

In the fourth grade a new girl joined our class.  Her name was Katrina and we became very good friends.  Her parents bought a lodge right on Alamoosic Lake which was only about a mile from where I lived.  They rented out rooms for overnight guests and catered many parties there.  Katrina and I initially pitched in helping with those parties and eventually we became their only “hired” help (not much in the way of pay but we sure did have a good time!).  Katrina and I helped in all aspects of their catering business.  We assisted with preparing the food and serving it.  We were also pretty much in charge of the clean up afterwards. Looking back on it, I see they (her parents) had a pretty good deal going on! Cheap labor that was really worth something!  We worked hard and took pride in what we were doing.  And if we were treated to a movie or an ice cream or a twenty dollar bill now and then, cool!!

So, one summer we are catering to an all day party…the works were being served…seafood (we did live on the coast of Maine after all!) to include lobsters, crabs and steamed clams.  Katrina and I decided the person funding the party must be rich to afford all that expensive food.  So, I’m behind the buffet table keeping watch, ensuring nothing ran low, when a man makes his way through the line that looks an awful lot like Stephen King.  I stare at him, realize that I’m staring and glance away.  Trying to pretend at this point that I am only interested in the food dishes before me, I listened as he talked with the woman following behind him in the line.  She asked him when his next book was due out. He replied.  Can’t say what he said because my jaw dropped open as realization hit that the man looked like Stephen King because he WAS Stephen King.  I raced into the kitchen.  “Katrina, I think Stephen King is here!”  She doesn’t believe me. I drag her out to the buffet table.  He’s near the end of the table at this point and as soon as she sees him, she knows I’m telling the truth.  Something about our manner must have caught his attention because he looked up at us and smiled. If he thought our behavior strange, he didn’t let on that he thought so.  I know we were looking like two star-struck idiots.  We stood there, still as trees, staring at him with our mouths hanging open and our eyes wide with wonder.  He was, after all, our very first sighting of a celebrity in the flesh.

Embarrassed to be caught staring thusly, Katrina and I turn and flee back into the kitchen, making a bee line for her father. “Dad,” says Katrina, “who is paying for this party?  Did you know that Stephen King is here?” Her father, unimpressed with our excitement and even less so with the name, stared at us and said, “Who?”  We impatiently tell him who Stephen King is and he wrinkles up his forehead as he goes into deep thought.  Truly, I remember this day as if it were yesterday.  Finally he says, “Well, it seems that I do recall something of the man being well known.”  He then pulls a folded check out of his shirt pocket and reads the name on it.  “Well,” he says, “what do you know.  It is Stephen King.”  He shows us the check.  Katrina says, “Oh my God!  You have to have him sign my book.” (Which she hadn’t even bothered to read mind you! Yes, I was very jealous that she was going to get an autographed book and I, who read his books and loved them…who recognized him in line and informed her that he was there…I was going to get nothing).  Katrina raced out of the kitchen and went to retrieve her book.  I, in the mean time, went back out to the dining room so I could watch this person who wrote books that scared the living daylights out of me.  I had to know…was he normal?  What kind of person thought stuff up like that?  Did he consider himself better than those not quite so successful as he? Lots of things went through my mind, I was curious and so I watched him, his every move.

I have to add here that he seemed like a very pleasant man.  His son was quite small then and running happily about the place.  Stephen King chased him as any father would.  They laughed, they had fun.  At one point his son ran passed the buffet table and Mr. King chased after him saying, “Earth to Owen, Earth to Owen!” and then when he finally managed to catch him, he swung him up into the air as little Owen squealed in delight. People constantly bothered him and he was courteous to them all.  He didn’t act weird or bizarre or eerie or anything like the books he produced.  Now, is that passing judgement on someone or what?  Talk about judging a book by its cover, it seems we also judge a writer by his books!

Finally I see Katrina’s dad come out of the kitchen with her book in his hand.  He strides right up to Mr. King (who is still trying to eat his dinner) and asks him if he’ll sign his daughter’s book.  Katrina is hiding in the kitchen, peaking from the doorway.  I go in and tell her how lucky she is to be getting an autographed book.  Slightly miffed, I begin scrubbing pots.  Katrina pitches in to help.  Soon we are both giggling over sudsy water and how we can’t wait to tell everyone at school that we worked at Stephen King’s party.  The kitchen door opens behind us and Katrina’s dad booms in a very loud voice, “Girls, guess who wants to meet you?”  We swing around, our hands dripping in dirty water, suds up to our elbows and stare open mouthed as Stephen King comes over to us and gives a slight bow.  A bow! To us. “Ladies,” he says, “it is a pleasure to meet you and I want to thank you for the excellent job you are doing with this party.”  He holds his hand out and I put my slippery wet hand into his.  He then gallantly raises it to his mouth and kisses the back of it.  He does the same to Katrina.  He asks us which books we’ve read.  I hid my smirk as Katrina admits that she’s just starting The Shining (the book he signed).  I proudly tell him that I’ve read Carrie, Salem’s Lot and The Shining.  He smiles, he’s pleasant, friendly, engaging. Then he says, with regret in his voice (certainly an inflection he put there just for us), “Well, girls, I must get back to my guests.  Thank you again for all your hard work and for reading my books.”  And he was gone.

As I wanted to be a writer at this point in my life, I thought to myself, “Someday, I’m going to be just like that when I’m a rich and famous author!”

On my eighteenth birthday, I went out on my first date (yes, you read that right…I was pathetically lacking in the romance department my entire venture through high school) and he (my date) took me to see The Shining.  I fell in love with the scenery of Colorado (where the movie was shot).  I decided right then and there that I would someday go to Colorado.  And so, indirectly, Stephen King was about to influence one of the most monumental decisions of my life.

A year after graduating high school, I joined the Air Force.  Because they had so many people wanting to go in, I had to wait for a job to open up.  I waited for nine months and then got the call.  My recruiter tells me that a career field has just opened to women.  I would be working outside building munitions (yes, that means things that blow up!).  At the time, I had worked so many office jobs through high school that I wanted something more exciting than a desk to work at.  He tells me that I will be a pioneer, paving the way for future women to follow.  All quite grand to be sure.  But…bombs?  No.  I tell him that I’m not sure that’s what I had in mind when I said I didn’t want to be sitting behind a desk. But then he says, “Well, you’ll be attending technical school in Denver, Colorado. I’ve heard it’s really a nice school.”  I’m sure, thinking back, that the recruiter had no clue on whether the base was nice or not.  It didn’t matter.  I wanted to go to Colorado!  “I’ll take the job.”

While attending basic training, I was taken aside, led into a private room and a man of high rank tried to convince me to change my job choice to something else.  I listened to his spiel and then asked, “Where is the school for this job?”  He says, “California.”  I said, “But I don’t want to go to California, I want to go to Colorado.”  He looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind.  “You are making a career choice based on where the school is located?”  Okay, he can look at me like I’m a moron, I don’t care.  I was determined.  I was going to Colorado.  Truly, he just sat there and looked at me as if I’d suddenly grown a second head and one not so appealing at that!  I figured out many years later why.  Building bombs was not a fun job.  At least, not for me.  In fact, I pretty much hated it for most of my 20 year military career. And that, being stuck in a job I did not enjoy, I can now say was Stephen King’s fault!

I read his book The Stand when I was stationed at a military base in Virginia.  I think it was around 1986.  As I was reading the book one day (people were dying en mass of a flu epidemic in the book) the news came on.  People were dying of a flu epidemic!  I remember being a little freaked out at the coincidence.  Mr. King, I thought, is a smart man!  Thank God we didn’t lose our world population. Still, the book inspired me, and I began writing again.  I wrote my first story at the age of eight.  I was sure I would be an author, a published one within a few years of graduating high school.  But, the Air Force took over my life and then my kids and so it went.  But after reading The Stand, I dug out my old notebooks and began again to dream my dream.

I was stationed in Okinawa, Japan, when I read Stephen King’s “On Writing“.  I started the book while my husband was in surgery.  I remember laughing a lot (who knew the master of the macabre had such a great sense of humor?) and getting curious looks from the others sharing the waiting room with me.  Finally I had to go in search of a highlighter.  Good stuff to remember!  I found a store, bought a yellow highlighter and a pen and went back to the waiting room so I could mark my favorite passages and quotes.  There were a lot.

Not long before this, I rediscovered a manuscript I’d started in high school (my first “horror”…inspired after reading Stephen King’s “The Shining”) and thought it must be the universe telling me I needed to finish that story.  It was laying on the bed when I got home from work.  I recognized the notebook right away and wondered why it was there.  I hadn’t seen it in over ten years! (my husband had gone digging for a notebook and of all the notebooks I’d packed away, he pulled that one out and tossed it on the bed).  A friend who knew I was working on a book bought me King’s “On Writing” thinking it would help. It did.  I became more inspired than ever to finish that book!  Someday I will publish “No Matter What”.  But first to get my “Be Still, My Love” out into the reading public.

I’m excited about the pending publication of my book (I’ve decided to join the ranks of other author hopefuls and publish it myself).  It’s been a long journey for me but considering the person from whom I’ve been inspired and influenced, I figure it’s a good omen.  I watched an interview King gave one time and he said, (paraphrasing somewhat) “If a story grabs you and excites you and you can’t wait to write it down…well, then you probably have the potential for a best-seller on your hands.”  That pretty much describes most of the books I’ve written so far! (the first part that is…about the story grabbing me with its hurry to be written down…but not, unfortunately, the second part…yet).  There is one particular quote from Stephen King’s book “On Writing” that really stuck with me all these years.  He said, “If God gives you something you can do, why in God’s name wouldn’t you do it?”  He’s got me there.  Writing is the one thing I’ve been doing almost all my life.  It’s been something of an obsession.  So, it must be my God given gift.  Can’t think what else it could be!  So, thanks, Stephen King, I think I will…take your advice and use my God given gift.

How about you?  Are you using your God given gift?

God, Money, Faith


I’ve been writing posts about my supernatural experiences with ghosts and spirit contact but now I want to share the amazing experience I had with God about eighteen years ago (not that I haven’t had any amazing experiences with God before then or since, but there’s one story in particular that I feel moved to share).

I’ve always been strong in my faith, even during times when I’ve not been affiliated with a particular church.  At eighteen I joined the Catholic church and I was quite happy with that until my ever changing beliefs soon collided with church doctrine and we parted ways.  I eventually came to the conclusion that no church had it ALL right so decided to just follow God in my own way.  But, as happens when things go bad or tragedy strikes, I was soon looking for a church to turn to when my marriage fell apart.  Suddenly I am a single mother with three young children and my finances a mess.  He (the ex) hightailed it to greener pastures and left me with the aftermath of unpaid bills and empty cupboards.

I was in the military during this awful time.  It is a demanding career and a huge consumption on a person’s time.  My bosses didn’t care that I was now a single mother (they didn’t issue me those kids!) and had daycare issues and the like, they only cared on me spending 70 percent of my time catering to their demands even if said demands were nothing but silliness.  For instance, there was this one time when I had to stay after work to SWEEP THE ROAD!! with a BROOM!  Why?  Because a … wait for it … GENERAL (gasp) MIGHT (yes MIGHT) come out to our section.  Since we stored the Air Force’s stockpile of explosive paraphernalia, our duty section was far away from the main part of the base…just in case we had an accident.  We didn’t after all, want the base populace to blow up!  We didn’t get a lot of high brass (military VIPs) visitors.  So, on this occasion we labored all day to make our area look pretty.  Heaven forbid if the ROAD was DIRTY should the general traverse it in his car!  No, the military isn’t always stupid like that, but they have their moments (I always thought if they’d just put a few women in charge, things would have made more sense).  But I was operating in a man’s world back then (more women in the higher echelons now thank goodness) and so there you have it…I’m paying for extra babysitting and losing even more time with my kids so I can sweep a road of dirt just in case a general decides to lower himself and visit our humble unit (and no, he never made it out).

Things just went from bad to worse for me.  I was quite devastated at the breakup of my marriage and was many miles away from my family (I was in Florida and they were all in Maine).  I didn’t have them to lean on for support (though I did spend HOURS on the phone with my sympathetic mother!).  My financial situation was getting worse and worse.  Thank God for the angels on earth…my friends!!  I was fortunate during this time to live on a wonderful street (in a duplex provided by the military) with some really great people.  A recent move that had God’s influence all over it for I had just moved there from off base a few months prior.  Had I still been living in town at the time of the break up, I would have lost everything…my home, my career, my credit!  Why? Because while living off base, I didn’t know that many people  and none of my neighbors.  While living off base, I had to pay rent and utilities.  Something I wouldn’t have been able to do had I still been there when my marriage ended. But at my new home on base, I didn’t have to pay rent or utilities (the military gives its members an allowance to live off base and they take that allowance away when you move onto the base.  My off base living expenses, however, had far exceeded the allowance I was given).  My new neighbors became my closest friends.  They really helped keep me together during this black period of my life.

I remember many nights of despair in those first few weeks after the breakup. I would hide in my home while my neighbors visited each other outside and cry because my kids were hungry and I didn’t have much food in the house. I did not want to share my shame with anyone and it was a lonely time for me.  I felt a failure at everything.  My career was hurting for I had a boss who didn’t have much of a heart … truly, he’d stare of me with cold, unfeeling eyes as I tried to humbly explain why I was five minutes late to work, or why I was sitting at my desk crying quietly as I labored along.  It didn’t matter the many HOURS I stayed late to work on his sudden whim, doing stupid stuff…like sweeping roads.  He didn’t care if my kids were sick or the car broke down or that my babysitter couldn’t watch the kids or whatever. None of my woes mattered to him in the least.  I lamented at my luck to get someone like that for a supervisor (the first in my chain of command).  And even that set of circumstances was a lesson for me.  But something I won’t go into in this post.

On one of my worst nights (sobbing over the financial mess I was in), I get a phone call from a friend.  She and her husband had been trying to get me to come to church with them.  I needed God in my life they said.  I told them that I already had God in my life.  But I needed the support of a church they said. They were Baptists.  I was an ex-Catholic with occult beliefs (spirit contact, palmistry, numerology).  I knew for sure the Baptist church was not going to accept those beliefs either.  But I needed some spiritual support.  So  the phone call came at just the right time.  After months of saying no to their invitation to go to church with them, I finally agreed.

Can you imagine my absolute surprise when I go to this church and the minister announces that he is going to start on this very day, a six part sermon about MONEY!!?  I had a little less than 200 dollars in the bank and payday was over a week away.  I had hardly any food in the house (was going to go shopping later that day) and my car was low on gas.  My kids needed shoes and the girls (3 and 4) were in sore need of clothes. I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to be able to meet my financial obligations come next payday.  I was in utter despair at what to do (which is why I finally decided to go to church).  The Friday before this particular Sunday I had gone to a credit counseling agency.  They agreed my life was a financial mess and said I qualified for their program.  I was scheduled to meet with them again in a couple days to sign up for their assistance.  And here, on this Sunday when I FINALLY gave in and went to a church that I never thought I’d attend because I’m not Baptist and knew they wouldn’t like me believing the things I believe, the sermon is about money!! The first in a six part series!!  This, I thought, is God at work.

The church was also (coincidentally) trying to get enough money to build a new addition and buy new pews.  It was a very costly venture and they needed their parishioners to come on board and donate the funds to make this happen. This might have been the driving force behind the minister’s decision to do a six part series “the law of money”.  I don’t care.  That day changed my life.

The gist of that day’s sermon:  God provides for his own.  Trust in him and he will take care of ALL your NEEDS (not necessarily all your WANTS, but definitely all your needs).  Yes, this takes a leap of faith.  But one that is good on its return!  Show God you believe and God will show you that your belief is a solid FACT.  Trust God.  Give generously now and don’t worry about where the money is going to come later.  It will come.  Sort of the “if you give it, the money will come” kind of philosophy (this was many years before “The Secret” came out promising similar results!).  When it came time for the collection plate to come around, I pulled my checkbook out of my purse and stared at it long and hard.  The minister was in earnest at this point (it was collection time after all!) about trusting God.  If you Give, so will you Receive…TENFOLD! I decided to trust God.  I wrote out a check for a little over half of what was in my account.  I gave the church $100 knowing it was going to severely cut me short of funds.  My heart was pounding.  After putting that check in the collection box, I wanted to snatch it back.  Was I stupid?  And then, “Sorry, God!! I DO trust you!!”  It was a huge leap of faith for me.

A couple days later, I went to meet with the credit counseling agency.  I had to show them my income, my bills, and the estimated amounts I spent on various things.  The idea was that I pay them, they pay my creditors and I follow their strict budget to the T.  The first to go on my list of liabilities (what I paid out)?Church donations!  My heart did a flip flop.  Oh dear!  I was supposed to be trusting God and here the credit agency was telling me “God will understand that you just can’t afford to give any money to the church right now”.  I had to agree to their budget or it was a no go.  I chose to decline their help.  They wanted me to deny God and I thought that a sure sign that I wasn’t supposed to be there.  Now, just to be clear…I think credit agencies have a place in the world.  They have helped many, many people.  But at this time in my life, it wasn’t for me.  It wasn’t the particular journey I was to travel.

I went home that day with hope in my heart but also fear.  What if…no, I just couldn’t allow my faith to waiver.  A few days later, the day before payday, I’m balancing my checkbook (so I can pay upcoming bills) and it appears that I am overdrawn.  I can’t believe it!  I remember feeling so bereft, terrified, alone. I lay my head down and sobbed my heart out. My son (he was 9) came in the house, saw me in my moment of despair and ran back out.  He ran across the street to my friend Sylvia’s house and told her, “Mom is crying!”.  This dear friend, one of my angels on Earth, came right over.

“Debbie, what is wrong?”  I waved at my checkbook.  “I’m broke, overdrawn and I’ve hardly any food in the house.  I’ve been feeding my kids macaroni and cheese for the past three days.  How much more will they eat of that stuff?”  It was a low point.  It was.  Sylvia took on a no-nonsense, we’ll fix it attitude.  “It’s okay, dear, we’ll figure it out.”  She sits beside me and we go through my checkbook.  I dig out bill statements and bank statements (thank God I don’t throw anything away!) and we go through every single thing.  A mistake!!!  I made two car payments that month!!  A quick call to the bank and yes, I did pay them twice (no I do not know how it was that I did this) and no, I don’t owe them this coming payday.  Just like that, I have 300 dollars!!  A windfall for me. Sylvia invites us to her house for dinner.  She has extra she says.  Plenty to go around.  Did I mention about how good a friend she was?

The next day I get a phone call from Trish, another friend.  “Debbie, I have a bunch of clothes that will fit the girls, do you want them?”  (she had three daughters all older than my two girls).  Yes!!  Sylvia strolls in a few minutes later (within moments of me getting off the phone) and she hands me new shoes for each of my kids.  “I bought my kids (she had three children too) shoes and it was a buy-one-get-one-free deal.  I picked up the free pairs for your kids.”  Did I mention how great an angel she was?

The weekend following the end of the church’s series on money, I make the four hour trip to Georgia to visit my wonderful friends Robin and Steve.  I needed to get away from it all and where better to go than to see more good friends?  I was nervous about the trip because my tires were bad but I decided to trust God in this as well and off we went.  While there, Steve takes my car, tells me he’ll be back later.  When he did so…new tires!  An oil change!  Thank God for them, all my wonderful friends! Sylvia, Nita, Chong, Trish, Robin, Steve … angels on Earth.  Each of them, now aware of my situation, bringing me and my children the things we need.  No questions asked.  No expectations in return.  Wow. God was making good on his promise.  He was providing for my needs and using my friends to make it happen.

I attended all six sermons on money at that Baptist church.  I let everyone know that he (the minister) was speaking a great truth.  Trust God and he will provide!  I was living proof of it!  I never did have any problems after that of meeting my financial needs or getting what I needed.  Things just worked out. (They still do!!)  I even remember getting a check in the mail because I had overpaid something else (way back when) and while doing an audit, they discovered it!  Money just came to me one way or the other.  My parents came for several visits (something we thought wouldn’t happen because of their own issues but then things would clear up and they could come after all!).  Their visits helped immensely.  Not just financially but emotionally.  I hated it when they left to go back home.  I tell you, if I needed something, I thought, “God will provide” and I just didn’t worry about it.  And guess what?  God provided!!

That all happened about 18 years ago.  The philosophy on money that I learned back then has continued to work for me ever since.  Sometimes I do have a relapse and catch myself worrying about money and all the financial demands that must be met.  When I realize what I’m doing, worrying about something God can take care of, I have to stop myself and let it go.  Worry is an indication of faithlessness.  I have to remind myself to trust God.  He has never let me down.  God doesn’t let anyone down, especially those who put their trust in him.

I know this sounds a bit like a sermon but it’s a testimonial.  Every word true. With times being so tough, I thought it a good time to share my own tough times.  God bless everyone reading this post! May God provide all your needs. Amen.


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