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story of a new start

2008-04-24T11:45:00.000-07:00

I learned to accept as a young adult that there would be times when I would fail. I grew to realize that everything would not always go my way…that every endeavor would not always turn out the way I might want/expect. I never dreamed that marriage would be such a failure in my life. When we deal with friends, family members, co-workers or even an acquaintance that is going through divorce we often feel the need to choose a side…to hear the story and align ourselves with one party or the other. Realistically, in our society…especially in the Church…we don’t know how to deal with people going through divorce. There are two people in the relationship; and no matter what the circumstance(s) the failure falls on both…the relationship failed…the people failed. My divorce was an extremely lonely time in my life. I was living in a near-by town at the time...and no one from my church (literally…not a soul) ever called to check on me, to talk, to ask to hang out…nothing. That was not lost on me and it increased my feelings of shame, guilt, worthlessness and loneliness that much more. People avoided me…and my sense of isolation deepened. I’m not bitter…I realize that people truly don’t know how to approach someone during a time like this…especially Christians.

My lowest point: After my divorce was finalized I had to change some beneficiary information at the Human Resource Dept where I work. There was a lady at the HR Dept I had literally known my entire life. She was a member at the church I’d attended in Longview since birth. I hadn’t seen her in recent years. She asked why I was changing my beneficiary info and I told her I was recently divorced. She literally gasped…a very unnerving, unapproving type of gasp. She asked if I had any children and if so, how old…I told her I had a 17 month old son, and she said, “Well, you’ve ruined his life.” This person is a Christian…a Church member. I thought I would get encouragement from such a person. How, at my lowest/weakest/most vulnerable moment, was I supposed to process a response like that? Would I forever be branded as a divorced person…destined to walk around with a huge “D” branded to my chest, like the novel ‘The Scarlet Letter’?

A light: My parents were anchors for me. They encouraged me continuously and helped to re-build my self-esteem. I prayed a lot….and dug deep into God’s word. I found nothing in scripture to indicate that I was beyond use…beyond hope…beyond redemption. My time with my son was more precious to me than ever before…could it possibly be I would become a better father through this? True friends…not in quantity, but quality…were there as well. My friends at work…Marc and Rance…are true brothers in every since of the word. Then I met my best friend…who would become my partner in life….Amy. She had been through divorce as well…she (ironically) had also been told at one time that she had ruined her son’s life. She had been hurt…she had been healed. Our relationship was slowly built on love, respect, understanding. We shared an openness and sincerity that neither of us had known before. We were married in a very simply ceremony in 2003…and our marriage is a testimony that God has a plan for redeeming failures…relationships…with others…with Him! I know I’m redeemed….He sent his Son to die for my sins. He sent Amy to walk beside me and give me a partner for eternity.

Amy and I know…we’ve learned some hard lessons….the value(s) of true/sincere relationships. We feel that was part of God’s plan in bringing us to LifePoint. We didn’t want to “play church” anymore…we had both been in relationships that were not true…they were false, and consequently, they had failed. LifePoint is a place where we have developed great friendships…where we’ve been allowed to serve…even lead.

From 2 Corinthians (first chapter, the Message) “He comes alongside us when we go through hard times, and before you know it, He brings us alongside someone else who is going through hard times so that we can be there for that person just as God was there for us.”

I am thankful that God brought Amy alongside me…and that He brought our family alongside our friends at LifePoint. Forgiveness is real….redemption is real…new beginnings are possible, despite failures. I know that…I’ve lived that…I will continue to cling to that Hope.

story of opportunity

2008-04-24T11:30:00.000-07:00

My story starts about 5 years ago when I was doing my traditional “hiding” in the back row of church. You know, I did my thing, I came every Sunday and punched my “church time clock” put a check on my list and did my Christian duty for the week. It was about that time that I heard about a “church plant” that some people were considering and I felt an urgent tug at my heart to find out more.

In the blink of an eye I went from a “back row Baptist” (no pun intended) to be on the front lines of starting up a relational church. At one of our many prayer/planning meetings our soon to be Pastor Brian asked us to start making a list of friends, family, co-workers, neighbors ect… that we thought lifepoint could touch. I am ashamed to admit that up until that moment my motives had been completely selfish where this new chapter in MY life was concerned. This church was going to be MY way to finally stop putting the God who had done so much for me on the back burner. How could I possibly focus on others when this was MY way of getting right with God? Does anyone else see the humor in this…hello…relational needs church!! Anyway, I made my list…and then I got scared. I had not given much thought to what my, friends, family & even an ex-husband would think of my newfound commitment until I stared at that list full of their names.

Where friends are concerned I have been so blessed. These were amazing people who had seen me at my best and at my very worst. I was so afraid that they would not understand or be comfortable with me becoming an involved, committed, member of an unknown church. (I pictured myself having to explain to them that we don’t play with snakes or anything like that!! HA!) My list had seven friends, one brother, and an ex-husband on it. These were all wonderful people with a “back row” mentality themselves; God had been waiting patiently on every one of them, just like he had been waiting on me. So I started praying and praying and praying some more. Soon my prayers became that these people simply find peace and a loving church home.

Want to hear what God can do when he hands you opportunity?

You see…. Change is an opportunity to show faith instead of being controlled by fear!

Why I was ever scared of what God could do or what anyone of the people on that list would think is beyond me. Especially when I come to Life Point every Sunday with Five friends from that list and one ex-husband, plus all of their families. My two other friends during that time period joined an awesome church and have become very involved. The last person is my brother, I wish that I could say that God and I were 9 for 9 but my brother is still struggling with God’s plan for his life and I still pray for him daily. But 8 out of 9 ain’t bad!!

There is nothing better than coming to this wonderful church every Sunday with my closest friends and my son seeing his Dad and I worshiping and getting along together. The way I look at it God found me in my hiding place and used Life Point as my opportunity draw other hiding people to him…from a simple list.

story of faith & hurt (and the journey that is far from over)

2008-04-24T11:03:00.000-07:00

I was a person not really raised in the church or with a so called strong foundation. my parents kind of "dropped me off". I went along thinking how great life was. I was married to a good husband and had three pretty children, two boys and a girl.
My fourth pregnancy was normal. However in delivery their was difficulty. My beautiful little girl was born severely brain damaged. No reversal, No help. Oh yeah, I prayed "Oh God help me and I will do such and such."
A bargain.

I gradually saw this wasn't working and became more and more bitter and angry. If You are such a great God how could you let this happen to an innocent little child that you are suppose to love so much. My anger got greater and turned to hate.
Every one that tried to help me I turned away as not understanding or interferring or just being noisy. I had lost my faith and belief. Most of all I blamed myself and hated God. . As time went on she had to be put in a home because of medical conditions.

I guess that really did it. My heart was so hardened toward God and everyone else. The devil took control of my life and I so hated myself that I thought if i just get away from here things will be okay. and I left.

So to make a long sad story a little shorter, I destroyed my family. Fear, pride,anger, stubborn self will clamor to be heard instead of Gods will. The unholy fruit of bitterness caused me to become defiled because God allowed suffering to come into my life.
Heb 12:15 says : See to it that no one misses the grace of God and that no bitter root grows up to cause trouble and defile many.

I refused to allow Jesus to take out harmful thoughts,attitudes, emotions and decisions. The Holy Spirit within me became so grieved that I no longer allowed myself to hear or feel it. I think the Holy Spirit did not leave me but became so silent that it appeared to be gone.

Many things happened in my journey without God. I locked all of this up in a little box in my heart and tried not to take it out to look at because it was so painful. Then praise God one day one of my nieces friends invited her to church and then she said "Nanny come to church with me."
So I came to lifepoint and with the help of a friend from this church, came to see that God forgave me of all my bad decisions and Hate. Just ask and it is done. Now I know I am forgiven and God and I are good terms.

I cannot undo the things and choices I made in the past but I know God has forgiven me. There is still hurt and a closeness missing with my children and for that I am truly sorry. I am sorry for the hurt I have caused others and continuely ask for peace.

story of hope in loss

2008-04-24T10:40:00.000-07:00

As the youngest of 5 children, one deceased, my earliest earnest prayers were for a baby brother or sister. I guess I did not want to be "the baby" and I never remember not always and forever loving babies. To my amazement my prayers were answered when my parents announced shortly after my 10th birthday that I would indeed have a baby sibling. Since my parents were in their 40's I immediately asked, "Are we adopting?" With a chuckle they replied, "No, we are having a baby!" My dad, a church history professor, soon began humorously referring to the expected arrival as "Our Latter Day Saint"-in reference to my parents mid life child. Along with me, my oldest brother and two sisters anxiously anticipated the addition to our family.

On August 1, 1961, Martin Andrew Estep, was born into our family. His blue eyes and smiles captured my heart. It was love at first sight. However, all was not joyful when Martin contracted pneumonia his first Christmas, followed by numerous colds, coughs. His sweet, yet vivacious spirit provided a light in a household of adolescence. He won the hearts, not only of his family, but his teachers at church, the youth and adults. Everyone loved Martin and his gregarious spirit.

His health issues remained a source of concern and at 18 months of age I accompanied my mother to have our blue eyed imp tested for cystic fibrosis, a genetic, hereditary disease that affects the lungs and pancreas. My Mother noticed some similarities in my brother's illness to the sister that died at age 9 months, and felt that cystic fibrosis might be the common thread. And so it was that Martin was positively diagnosed with cystic fibrosis which chronically affected both his lungs and pancreas. We were doing battle for his life which plunged us into the world of breathing treatments, postural drainage therapy, handfuls of pills before meals and a special gift of Martin, who graced our lives 7 years 4 months and 7 days.

His life put us on a different journey from where we had been before. My eleven year old world changed, as did the teen years to follow. While my friends wondered who would ask them out on Friday night, we were in a battle of life and death at my house. This brother I had so longed for and loved, was now a "terminal" patient and each day was a fight for his life. Mother gave our family a new normal in difficult circumstances through her "routine" and sameness which allowed us to keep functioning. We had never been allowed to feel sorry for ourselves nor were we now. A new "normal" evolved around the new routines our brother needed to survive and on which his very breath depended.

Martin taught me so much. He gave me compassion for anyone who is going through difficult times, because I have been there. He gave me a desire to teach because I wanted to be able to teach him to read, but I did not know how at that time. I learned how to administer all his treatments, including postural drainage, read countless books during the breathing treatments, rubbed his back to help him fall asleep at night and sparked my imagination as I would pull "Breathe Better" pills out of the sky for him every night so he could sleep. And I learned to live life better because he wanted to and could not.

He left us too soon, and left behind a giant chasm, and some scars. My battles during his life became fear and worry and difficulty trusting, at my lowest moments even in God. While he was alive God showed me many times that he was there with us in the long nights of coughing, the hospital stays and in the bright child that lifted us up even as his body was wasting away. There was nothing we could do that had not been done except to be there for him. Many instances come to mind, but I clearly recall when we lived in Switzerland where my Dad was teaching, Martin became chronically ill and x-rays showed that his heart had enlarged. My parents were somber at supper that night upon their return from the doctor. We were all atypically quiet as we ate with heavy hearts. Finally, Martin broke the silence as he, with an exasperated sigh said, "I don't know what you all have to be so sad about. I am fine." It made us all feel better, and we laughed at his scolding through our tears.

Then on another occasion his equipment broke down, the motor that forced the mist into his plastic tent in which he slept at night, making it possible for him to breathe. My dad had broken his foot and could not drive, my sisters were in school, so I was the designated one to stay home with him as Mother made the trip across Zurich, with a seminary student, to a shop to get the equipment fixed. I was 16 at the time and hours stretched before me. I was left with the instructions to take care of Martin, who by now was in bed upstairs, and whose fingertips were turning blue from lack of oxygen, and to fix a supper of Norwegian meatballs that I had only observed my mother making. It was pretty overwhelming being left with a chronically ill brother who after a rough night had said, "I thought I was going to go be with Jesus last night." and the assignment of making supper. I was praying that the Lord would help me handle it all as I sat on Martin's bed coloring with him, and the doorbell rang. I raced down the steps and there was Martin's Sunday school teacher, a seminary student's wife, from Norway. She said in her broken English, "I brought these for Martin" as she extended a coloring book and some crayons. Sensing I was perhaps frightened she asked if I was alone and I explained my predicament, and furthermore that I was to make supper. She asked me what I was making and upon hearing she immediately said, "I make meatballs, I make all the time. You go take care of your brother." And in that moment I knew God had heard and answered my prayer. I knew he would be with me all the way through the difficult days ahead, and even though I was a world away from "home" in Texas, that the same God we love and serve moves Christians to meet others in their time of need. What a lesson to learn!

Scriptures that became precious to me during that time have remained some of my mainstays. I had a choice to turn my back on God, and some days I did, but I came to understand that I could not bear the burden of watching my brother waste away without HIM walking by me. I kept a prayer journal and was drawn to scripture "We are in despair, but not destroyed....nothing can separate us from the love of God......cast all your care on HIM for HE cares for you.....I learned most scriptures that address worry, fear and trust, even when we do not understand or can only live in the moment before us. My brother taught me to hope because there is a brighter tomorrow. Not long before he died he told a family friend that he had cystic fibrosis and would die from it. She asked, "Martin, are you afraid?" To which he sincerely replied, "No, because I am going to be with Jesus!" These lessons are deep truths that have seen me through many trials and I know it is not on my own strength that I accomplish anything, but it is God working in and through me.

The words to a hymn I heard, belted out my first week-end at Howard Payne University, became my heart's theme song a year after Martin's death as it expressed the truth I learned and that I still cling to when my heart needs his comfort.

"Is your burden heavy as you bear it all alone?

Does the road you travel harbor dangers yet unknown?

Are you growing weary in the struggle of it all?

Jesus will help you, when on His name you call.

He is always there hearing every prayer faithful and true

Walking by our side in His love we hide, all the day through.

When you get discouraged just remember what to do.

Reach out to Jesus, He's reaching out to you."

......and as he reaches out still we in turn reach out with our hands, our time, our acts of kindness. My brother taught me that we are Christ's hands and we are here to lift each other up and bear one another's burdens. I did not know what I prayed for as a child, but God more then answered my prayers. This child led me to develop character in a way that at times I would not have chosen, as well as empathy, hope, determination, and love and showed me how to live a life worth leading.....I learned not to pray for an easy path, but for faith to make the journey worth it all. I thank God for the opportunity to know a child of faith named Martin, and he teaches me still.

story of learning to love my neighbor

2008-04-23T14:58:00.000-07:00

It started with a book. The book led to a conversation which led to many generative friendships which turned into new ideas which has turned into a new way of viewing the world.

My friend Kevin gave me a book right after Christmas in 2005 and said that I needed to read it immediately. I rang in the new year with friends and when we all said our good-byes, I returned home and buried myself in the book, finishing just before dawn, just two hours before Kevin was to pick me up for our drive to a conference in Nashville. The next week was filled with all kinds of questions as we began to not only deconstruct the reality that we had steeped ourselves in, but also the way we viewed that reality. It was a profound week for both of us and we have never been the same since.

Our conversations came, oddly timed enough, with my freshman year of college; perhaps the most opportune time for change. I began to question presuppositions I’d always held. I began to wonder with friends about this things known as “faith.” I began to ask tough questions and was lucky enough to have friends at Lifepoint that were asking some of the same questions.

The one thing I seemed to hear more often than anything else was straight out of the mouth of Jesus: The Great Commandment. The idea that the whole of the Law and the Prophets hangs on just two principles is truly revolutionary and has perpetuated my questioning. Love God, love your neighbor as yourself. It really is that simple. The tough part, of course, is what the implication of this verse can bring.

The implication, expounded on by Jesus later on, means that we are to love our enemies. We are to bless those who seek to destroy us. We aren’t to just ignore them but to actually seek to do good things to them.

It also means, as Jesus learned in His encounter with the Canaanite woman, that God’s grace is for everyone. God’s grace is for those that think they deserve it and for those that don’t want it. God’s grace is far more vast and comprehensive than we can understand. God has placed us in our unique locations to be the very hands and feet of Jesus. The idea of “pie in the sky until the sweet bye and bye” has been thrown out the window. We must, as I’ve learned, expand our thinking regarding God’s grace.

The question that I am continually finding new answers for is, “What does ‘loving my neighbor’ look like?” I don’t think any one answer can satisfy this outside of a self-sacrificing, dying-to-self, cross-carrying, Jesus-like love. Even then, are we called to love and show grace to those in India? Yes. Are we to show love and grace to those dying of starvation in Burundi? Yes. To those displaced in Burma? Indonesia? New Orleans? Longview? Yes, yes, yes, yes.

The thing that, no matter what, continually drives my relationship with God is the tangibility of meeting a little of Jesus face-to-face each time I have a conversation. The idea that we are all made in the image of God is scarily inclusive. It changes everything. It breaks down borders, nationalities, and racial lines. It declares that there is no Mexican, American, European, or African because all are one in Jesus.

The challenge we have been given by God Himself dispels any fear or recalcitrance about action. We are to love, forgive, and give cups of cold water to those in need. We are to hope and perpetually seek the kingdom of God and saturate ourselves with that reality. These things cannot be done sitting on the sidelines or even in a pew. These things are accomplished when lives crash into one another in a beautiful collision. These things happen when people risk friendships; when people risk vulnerability. It is in those moments that something truly beautiful, truly divine takes place. I found that when myself and another person risked these things, wonderful things have happened.

And it all started with a friend recommending a book, creating conversations that have changed everything.
"Reading and writing are in themselves subversive acts. What they subvert is the notion that things have to be the way they are, that you are alone, that no one has ever felt the way you have. What occurs to people when they read Kurt is that things are much more up for grabs than they thought they were. The world is a slightly different place just because they read a (darn) book. Imagine that." -Mark Vonnegut on the works of his father, Kurt.

story of hope in a hurting family

2008-04-23T14:07:00.000-07:00

As a child I grew up in a home with two parents that I knew loved me…but just did not show it in the ways a lot of “normal” parents did. My dad was an alcoholic so we always walked gently around the house because you never knew what little thing might set him off. I have one sister and one brother, both younger. From about the age of 10, or as far back as I can remember, my parents really began fighting a lot and my father was very destructive. When this happened I had to take my brother and sister and shelter them from the anger that was raging in our home. They eventually separated but he continued to come around in his drunken rages and cause troubles. We were that family that you could count on having the police called to your house on a regular basis. All the neighbors knew what was going on, no one ever really stepped in to try and help …they all had that “don’t want to get involved” mentality…mind your own business type thing.

At the age of 15 my parents finally divorced and my dad moved away. We would hear for him occasionally by phone, and every now and then he would arrive at the house drunk…but my mom would always be able to avoid him…or we would just hide in the back of the house and pre-tend we were not there.

With the divorce my mother had the job of trying to raise 3 children on her own. She always made sure we were in church and would go with us on Easter and Christmas. If we ever argued and said we didn’t want to go…we were in trouble and would be disciplined. Her way of discipline was to scream and yell at us then to ground us until the next Sunday…but we still had to go to church.

I got my first job at age 15 to help out so I could have money. If I wanted anything I had to pay for it. My mother would take us to buy new clothes for school and new shoes a couple of times a year and a new coat every other year…so she really tried her best to provide for us. We always had hot meals on the table and a few of the normal kid snacks in the house. We all learned to cook and clean at a young age because my mom’s job was about an hours drive from the house and she would get in late…we all had to help out.

We found out my dad was living in Longview and one summer we made a trip to here to see him. We were here all summer and lived in a different hotel every week…and not some of the nicest ones in town…they were some of the very run down ones on Highway 80. I found out later the reason for this. My parents at that time chose to reconcile and get back together. We moved into a mobile home as a “family” and I had hopes that everything had changed and we would be a “normal” family. That lasted for about 2 weeks. We moved out of the mobile home into a small rent house in the Spring Hill area. My dad worked at a truck stop on the Interstate and my mom was a waitress.

One day my parents went to Dallas for a meeting to tie up some “loose ends” from us leaving so quickly. When we left we did not get to bring any of our things. As a child and teenager that is pretty traumatic. All the things you’ve accumulated and love, most of your clothes…all except what you brought with you for the visit. Everything was sold or given away.

When they returned from Dallas…my mom was not with my dad. We found out at that time that she had been arrested. During the time she was raising us by herself, she had been embezzling money from the company she worked for to provide for us and to try and keep our house. When things caught up with her, and we were losing the house, we came to Longview. We did not know we were running from things…she never told us.

At that point it was me, my sister, and my brother left to be raised by an alcoholic father. I had to take him to work in the evenings around 6:00 pm then I would pick him up at 5:30 am before getting my brother and sister up to go to school each day. This happened every Monday-Friday…I took care of them in the evenings, fed them, made sure homework was done, and worked some at that time…and I was still only 16.

My dad did not work on the weekends so he would drink heavily all Saturday and Sunday and became abusive…sexually and physically. Only to me…because I would not let him near my sister and brother. This went on for several months. During this time we would take weekend trips to visit my mother…in Gatesville. It was a several hour drive. We would leave early Saturday morning about 4 am drive and visit her for an hour…then make the drive back.

On one of those trips while visiting my mom…my dad was arrested. Here we were…the 3 of us…I was almost 17 at the time, so I had the job of getting us all back to Longview safely and figure out what to do next. In a huge way I was very relieved to be going back without him because I knew the abuse would stop. At the same time I was very scared about what was waiting for us.

It took twice as long to get home because I was so very tired and had to pull over numerous times. Between my brother and sister, who were 17 and 10 at the time…crying and upset and me trying to stay calm…it was a long trip. There were no cell phones in those days all we could do was stop and use a pay phone…but I didn’t even know who I would call.

When we arrived home in Longview I called my grandparents…my mom’s parents. They lived in Yantis Texas…about an hour from here. They immediately dropped all they were doing and came to Longview. We all were very upset because we just knew they were going to have to take us out of school and move us to Yantis to live with them. They did not do that. They uprooted their lives and moved in with us so we did not have to uproot ours again. My grandmother was my very faithful prayer warrior. She told me, and I know she did, that she prayed for all of us every day, all day. They gave up a year and a half of their life to take care of us.

I was a Senior in high school at this time and I worked as much as possible to help provide. I provided most of the Christmas gifts for my sister and brother. One day while sitting in class the high school principal called me to his office. You know…going to the principal’s office usually only meant trouble. He sat me down and told me some people wanted to help families over the holidays and I was one of the ones chosen. He gave me a turkey and box of food and told me to leave campus and take it home. Of course I cried all the way home. I had no idea he even knew of our situation…because I never told anyone! I kept that in to myself because I was too ashamed or didn’t think anyone needed to know. My loving grandmother had to tell the school because they had taken over custody and there were proper channels that had to be followed.

Graduation was approaching and because of good behavior my mom was released on a 4 day pardon so she could attend. That was one of the most exciting times of my life to have her back there with us…even for a short time. Soon after my dad was released then a few months later my mom. We all moved into another house in Longview and tried to start over. And it was fine…for a few months…then all the same things from the past started again.

At this time I was attending a church in Spring Hill. My grandparents made sure we did that every Sunday morning, Sunday night, Wednesday night, youth functions…every time the door was open. So I was accustomed to that now…and loved it.

My mom finally had had enough so she took the 3 kids and we moved to another home. My dad, through out that time, was arrested off and on so we didn’t hear from him as much. When he was not in prison, he lived with his parents. His dad used to be a Baptist preacher…but was also an alcoholic. So my dad grew up in a home that preached hell, fire, and brimstone at the altar, but yelled, screamed, drunk and abusive in the evenings. I know that is why my dad ended up the way he did.

My sister graduated and got married and moved out. A couple of years later I did the same thing. This left my mom and my brother...just the two of them for several years. After he graduated and moved out my mom began dating again. She lived in a duplex and began dating a man that lived on the other side. This man was my uncle…my dad’s brother. He had the same tendency’s as my dad…drank and was abusive…we just never knew how much.

After a couple of years of being married and having some really trying times in my own marriage Jeff and I decided it was time for us to get in church. We had one child that was almost 2 and we were making a commitment to raise them different and in a better atmosphere. Jeff’s dad was also an alcoholic but his mom is a very faithful strong Christian woman and she made sure Jeff was always in church…and went with him as the example.

My mother and uncle would take trips and go on vacations and he would give her gifts and flowers and be very nice to her. On one of their trips, they went to Las Vegas…upon returning they told us they had gotten married and he was now our step-dad.. I thought it was weird, but hey, it happens. They moved to Quitman and had some land and he would take my boys on walks around the country roads, take them on tractor rides and always gave gifts or helped out financially if we ever needed it. All seemed well and she seemed very happy.

One Friday night when I got off work I took the boys…I just had two at the time, one was 7 and the other was 3…to Wal-mart and McDonalds. Upon walking in the door the boys were sitting front of the tv eating their happy meals, Jeff worked nights so he was at work. I was putting away things and checking the answering machine. I had a frantic message from my step-dad to call him quickly something had happened to my mother. I called and talked to him and he told me she had been shot…accidentally, and she had died. This was on March 11, 1994. It would do me no good to go to Quitman that night because the police had already come and she was taken away. There would be nothing I could do. I called my sister and brother then I called the house and a police detective answered the phone. He instructed me to go to the police station the next morning before going to the house.

We were told that morning that they suspect she was murdered. They probably got into a heated argument and he shot her. …over the next year we went through many ups and downs, trying to accumulate her things, he told different story after story and nothing every matched up…all this time the police were investigating him. He eventually disappeared because he knew he would be arrested. There was a high speed chase and man-hunt that was on the news and he was finally caught and arrested. He eventually pled guilty to involuntary manslaughter and now serves 45 years in prison.

During this time I became pregnant with our third child…shortly after I miscarried. My father-in-law was diagnosed with cancer and 3 months later passed away. God knew that my body could not handle the stress I was going through at the time and it probably would not have been a healthy pregnancy. About a year later God gave us our 3rd son.

You know I look back at my past and I know that there were a lot of hard times and a lot of struggles and have wondered at times…why did that have to be my family. Why couldn’t my family be “normal” like all my friends. Why couldn’t I have parents that didn’t fight and were both there and would be there as grandparents for my children. I remember my grandparents very much…because they gave a part of their lives for us…always wanted to know why couldn’t my children have that.

You know, God has a way of using these things to show you He is in control and that nothing happens by chance. Because of all of this I did have some hard times, and some struggles, and I made some really bad choices…especially in my college years and early marriage years. But God still loves me through it and NEVER gave up on me. He used these things in my life to make me a stronger person, to love to care for people, and just be able to listen to someone that might be going through something similar. Once I came to know Him…I learned that all I went through was nothing compared to what He went through for me. Jesus Christ loves me so much that He chose to give up all that He had for me. He chose to obey His Father God and leave the perfect place of Heaven and come to this earth that is a very cold and cruel world at times. He chose to love me inspite of my family’s past, inspite of my past, in spite of choices I made…He chose to love and NEVER give up on me.

He gave me faithful faithful grandparents who left a legacy of prayer for me. Yes, I know my parents loved me. My dad is still alive actually and I hear from him once a month…I know he loves me. But my grandparents never stopped praying for me until the day they died…the memories I have of them living with us and raising us are so special…even though the times were very hard…because the love of God was in our home like it had never been…and even though we didn’t have much physically, we always had their love and their faithfulness.

As I said when I started…God is good…and He is always good! He’s always there in the good times and in the bad times…even more so in the bad times because He wants to be there to pick us up when we fall down. I am so thankful He continues to pick me up every day and continues to love me in spite of it all!

Hebrews 12:2 says “Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the JOY set before Him endured the cross, scorning it’s shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.”

For the joy set before Him he endured the cross…Jesus hung on that cross and it brought Him joy to know that what He was doing was not going to be a waste…He knew as He hung on that cross all that I would experience in my life and what He was doing then would have an impact in making a major change in my life. He knew the struggles I would have but He knew that He would love me through them and as He hung on that cross He considered it Joy to do it…to suffer in anguish and pain and agony to the point of death…because I was worth it. We all are worth it…and the struggles we have while they may seem horrible to us at the time…He’s not caught by surprise…He knew they were going to happen even when He hung on that cross…and He counts it joy that He could do that for us…so we could be stronger on the other side of them because He would use those things to bring us to closer relationship with Him.

God is so good…He doesn’t care about the past…in fact He knew what kind of life I was going to have before I was even born. There is a verse in 2 Timothy that says He thought of us before the beginning of time. So, anything that happens to us, that we experience or maybe go through doesn’t catch God by surprise…He knew it would all happen, and has known for a very long time.

Remember…count it all joy….Jesus did…and he endured the worst struggles we could imagine…anything I have gone through, may sound horrible to some…but it’s only through His true joy and I am here to do and say what I do today!

the story begins...

2008-03-04T14:16:00.000-08:00

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