Just some random thoughts on food

I was listening to a sermon this morning while I rode my bike; he was talking about the fact that God created everything to bring Himself glory. He created food, sex, marriage, the seas, the mountains, man, everything to bring Him glory. He talked about how the food we eat should cause us to take pause and worship the Creator who gave all the different tastes and textures of food. We eat so fast that I don't think we really stop to taste and eat with gratitude. Do we really think about the flavors of the foods we eat? When we take it in do we consider the creativity of God that He would give so many different flavors of food that would grow out of the earth?

Then I began to think about what this means to food and to food bringing forth worship from us when we have dramatically changed the way that food tastes. We have genetically modified so many foods; we add sugar, salt, high fructose corn syrup, coloring and so many chemicals to our food. First, when food does not taste the way God created it to taste, how does that effect our response to the food. Do we stop and thank God for what we are eating? Do we experience the beauty that He intended when he brought forth the trees and plants from the soil? I know that I have read about how lifeless most of our food is. Our fruits and vegetables don't have nearly the vitamins and minerals that they are supposed to have. We pick them before they are ripe (much of the vitamin content happens during the ripening process). Our soil is completely depleted of minerals b/c of the way that we grow crops without rotating or resting the soil. The earth is filled with chemicals that end up in our foods. We have genetically modified foods so that they will grow in places there weren't intended to grow. We have done away with the biodiversity of food. Many of the types of potatoes and grains are extinct b/c we just grow certain strains. Much of our seed supply is not even pure anymore. Seeds are now being patented and then cross pollinated with genetically modified strains. It's no wonder food does not cause us to stop and worship the Creator; it is no longer what He created. We worship man for changing the food supply and giving us lifeless food to eat. Disease related to food is rampant; We are overweight, have diabetes, high blood pressure, high cholesterol, heart disease and any number of other diseases that are related to food. We have more food than we know what to do with only we are nutrient deficient b/c we eat lifeless food.

I have read that all matter gives off vibrations. Living beings give off these vibrations. Living food grown from the earth takes in the vibrations of the earth and materials surrounding it. If we take living food and process it so that it is no longer living, what does that do to us? We are not getting the life that was intended to be in our food. Food does not give us life and does not taste like the creator intended it to taste. Everything is related to everything else. God intended the earth to be in rhythm. There was a rhythm that was fractured at the fall. We have gone so so far from what was originally intended. The rhythm and chain is broken. Maybe we should think about getting back to the simplicity of things. We don't even walk on the earth most of the time. Concrete is everywhere. Trees are few. We seem to have become completely disconnected from creation. What are the consequences of that? Most of us only experience the sterility of what man has created, not the beauty, simplicity and complexity of what God created. We can be grateful for our food, but does it bring forth worship in us for is beauty, simplicity and deliciousness? Are we missing out on much of what food was intended to be? We want sweets; we want rich fattening food.

Food was originally so much more than it is now. There was so much to growing it and the culture that growing food involved. There was the cooking of the meal, the combination of ingredients, the enjoying of eating what was labored over with love.

Just a little food for thought. (hahaha.) I made a funny.

In the beginning.... the start of this path I'm on

Since we got back from Holiday break, it has been so hard to find time to write. I want to write every day; I know also that I have to put certain things in top priority in my life. That leads to other things being pushed to the bottom and many times being neglected b/c I run out of time. My life sometimes seems like a world wind. I have so many responsibilities and so many things I try to be faithful at that sometimes what I would like to do never happens. School with Stephen has to be priority number one; then there are things that I do at the school and church activities and mixed in comes cooking, cleaning (not a whole lot of that actually), grocery shopping, etc. I never seem to find time to sew or create; that breaks my heart, b/c I want to grow that area so badly. Writing I get some time to do. I am praying for God to help me order my days and remove the things that use up my time unnecessarily. I strive to see what I can remove and reorder to make time for responsibilities and for creativity and me.

I arose earlier than I have been arising this morning. I was very excited b/c I knew that meant I could get my exercise and prayer done earlier and have a few minutes to write before hitting the school with Stephen. As I pondered what I might like to talk about I settled on starting to tell my story. That is the real reason I actually started this blog. We're going way back to the beginning. Or what I know and remember.

I was born January 19, 1973 to Deborah Lynn Washburn and Jerry ? Ingersoll. I may not have been planned by them, but I was definitely planned by God. He saw every detail and minute of my life before I was ever conceived. From what I remember about what I have been told, they were married so that I would not have illegitimate stamped on my birth certificate. (Did they actually do that back then?) I think my mother was excited. She was a mess, but excited. I have seen pictures of her pregnant and she seems genuinely happy about it. My mother and father did not stay together too very long. By the time my brother came along almost 3 years later it was all but over.

So my mother started the very difficult journey of being a single mother. This is a difficult journey for anyone, but was further complicated for her in that she was carrying some very painful secrets that she would not even be aware of until I became a teenager. Having suffered many terrible and unmentionable things in her life, my mother became different people and locked those painful memories away deep inside of herself. Her denial of and even lack of awareness of her abuse caused her to suffer extreme clinical depression and also caused her to be unaware that her children were suffering similar abuses at the hands of her abusers and others. I can't remember much at all about the early years, but I know they were very dark for her. She was very depressed, overwhelmed and somewhat paranoid. I know that she did the very best she could to try to protect us and take care of us. She was just not well enough to raise us in a healthy environment. When she realized that she was incapable of being in a healthy relationship with a man, she just retreated from having any type of relationship in an effort to protect us. She had been raised by an alcoholic mother who got into abusive relationships. Her mothers boyfriends would beat on her mother and at times abuse my mother. She did not want us to grow up like that so she just avoided relationships. She would later realize to her horror that her family had been the ones we needed protecting from. She suffered under the weight of that guilt until the last year or so.

I can remember being very young in a house we lived in on Green street, somewhere in Fort Worth. It was so filthy that you couldn't see the floors. I can remember my brother playing with her glasses and them getting lost. My mother is blind without her glasses and I think not being able to see evokes a great deal of fear in her. I remember her yelling hysterically at my brother to find her glasses. She needed to go to work; there is no way she could drive anywhere without them. As an adult I can understand to fear and panic of knowing she had to go to work and could not without the glasses. I remember being spanked with the plastic tracks from the race track my brother had. I remember spilling Mercurochrome (Monkey blood) all over our wooden kitchen table. If you don't know what Mercurochrome, it is an antiseptic that we don't really use in the U S anymore. It was red and stained everything for days or even, in the case of the table, forever. I was orangy-pink for a few days. I remember a big white Alaskan Husky my cousin gave us; his name was Kemo. He was beautiful, but one day we let him out and he never came back. I am sure he was stolen; he was a gorgeous dog.

I have very few memories from my early years. I can remember some really key memories that had a part in shaping who I became and who I am today. I can remember a really nice lady who used to babysit us. Her name was Mrs. Miles and she had a daycare in her home. I remember lunch time. She made the BEST grilled cheese sandwiches I have ever tasted. It is so funny the things you remember vividly from child hood. Those grilled cheeses were perfectly golden with perfectly melted cheese; they were cut into triangles. She also made PBJ and fried bologna. I always ordered grilled cheese except for one time I ordered fried bologna. What I did not realize was that she put katsup on those. I have always hated condiments and still do to this day. I had to eat it and I never ordered it again. I also remember Cheetos, the table we ate on and coloring pictures that we would turn into paper airplanes. We would ask her to staple them, to which she would reply, "staples don't grow on trees," but would staple them any way. I went into detail with those memories b/c they are some of the few really good memories I can remember.

In first grade I had a teacher who was not very nice. I don't know why, but she just must have been really unhappy. I can't remember if she was mean to everyone or just me. I remember thinking it was just me, but I can't honestly tell you whether she was mean to me or just mean all around. She impacted my life more than any other teacher all the way until college. She thought that little girls should have their hair up in pony tails and was very vocal about it. Of course, my mother did not take time to put my hair up. As Ms. Watson, an enormous woman who wore a moo moo type dress every day, would pace the room pointing out all the girls who had their hair up like good little girls should, I knew she was talking about me not having my hair up. I can remember that the ruffle on the bottom of her dress would sway back and forth. One of the most devastating blows to my creativity and artistic nature happened in her classroom. We had all colored pictures. She held up my picture and said, "this picture looks like a kinder gardener colored it." She didn't say who's picture it was, but I knew it was mine. Then when I told my mother and she confronted Ms Watson, Ms Watson denied that is was picture. Two major issues in my life can be traced back to that teacher. I am not shirking my responsibility in these issues or passing the blame off on her. What I am saying is that, after praying and digging deep inside myself over some issues, I feel like I traced them back and this was the root from which they grew. The belief that I was not an artist and was not capable of being creative finds its beginnings here. Many other things over the years just confirmed the belief that it was not safe to be creative. The other issue, though silly, still had power over my life. I became obsessed with the appearance my children from their birth. I was especially obsessed with them ALWAYS having their hair neatly done. When the girls didn't even have enough hair to have real pony tails, you better believe they had tiny little pig tails going on. I did not let loose of that drive to protect my kids from being judged unworthy based on their appearance until my youngest was in 2nd grade. I do brush her hair now, but it does not have to be up every day now. She doesn't want it up, so I don't inflict my pain onto her hair choices. And, if you haven't read the blog entitled "I am an Artist??" read that one. It chronicles the journey and where I currently am with art and creativity.

Life was pretty hard in the early years; none of us could really explain, or even remember why things were hard, but I knew we were not like everyone else. I always felt like I had secrets to keep. I never felt like I fit it. I always felt dirty, unloved, unworthy and alone. I felt like no one liked me; I was depressed, empty, and hopeless. I can remember feeling the need to have something to look forward to every day. If I could have something to look forward to everyday then I had a reason to be alive that day. (Gymnastics to days a week, etc.)

We moved a lot. The house was always dirty. There was never enough money; sometimes the electricity and phone would get cut off. My brother was totally out of control; he started being hospitalized and heavily medicated at 8 years old; we got kicked out of apartments constantly due to his behavior. I had been sexually abused by several family members and some others outside of the family, but did not tell anyone. What I remembered was only the tip of the iceberg. Many things far worse were going on that I would not remember til later.

I can't really remember being in 2, 3, or 4th grade. I was at a school called Bishop Elementary, but there is like a veil over my memories of that era in my life. In 5th grade, some good things happened academically. I had always done pretty good in school; it was very easy for me. I didn't have to study; I just remembered things. While in 5th grade I took some kind of Math test that all the 5th and 6th graders took (6th was elementary). I got the highest score on that test of all the 5th and 6th graders in the school. I was also put into the Gifted and Talented program. I was in the first group of students to do the programs; it started in our district that year.

I had always been the good child and got no real recognition for it. My brother kept everything so stirred up that he was the center of attention. Now, that is my perspective. I am pretty sure if you asked him, he would say he was never as good as me and felt like I was perfect and he couldn't measure up to the standard I set academically. Who knows? It just goes to show there are ALWAYS to sides to everything. Our perspective is based on what we see and experience from our side, but on the other side of things it looks different and a different perspective emerges. It is always wise to assume that there are two sides to every story and that standing in the shoes of each side will give you a perspective that you can't see if you only stand on one side of an object.

I am out of time. This is pretty much everything important up to 6th grade. Next time, 7th grade, a turning point in my life.

Racism and Elitism is Alive and well

I have become keenly aware that the sickness of racism is alive and well in the world. It really looks more like elitism, but it is just as ugly. Some of the most horrible atrocities and genocides of the world can be traced back to Elitism. The definition of the Elite may differ, but it can be traced through out history. Some might trace it clear back to Israel taking over the promised land. I cannot explain or justify that one, but God doesn't need me to defend Him or justify Him. After Christ, though, there is not excuse for the Elitism. The Elite hung Jesus on the Cross. I am grateful for that day in history. The truth is that He allowed them to put Him on the cross. Speaking of history, a good friend once pointed out to me the history is His Story. That has always stuck to me; He has been telling us a story.

Back to the roots of Elitism. The Holocaust was about the Elite; Rwanda was about the Elite; Serbia was about the Elite; The Religious wars were about the Elite;

We must wipe Elitism off of the face of the planet. We have to stop thinking that any one of us is better than the other. Nothing we have, can do or believe makes us any better than any one else. Jesus told us the law could be summed up in these two commands, "Love the Lord you God with all your heart, mind, soul and strength and love your neighbor as yourself." He did not say love love your neighbor if he is a Christian; He did not, as a matter of fact say if he is Baptist, Catholic, Lutheran, Non Denominational. He did not say love your neighbor if his skin is the same color as yours, if he makes the same amount of money as you; He did not say if he has as much stuff as you, if he dresses like you, if his children behave like you think they should. He did not say if your neighbor has tattoos like you do or if he has no tattoos like you do; He did not, to take it further, say if your neighbor treats you well; He did not say if your neighbor speaks the same language as you, has the same morals as you, or is an American Citizen (ouch!!!!). Jesus said, "Love your neighbor as yourself." It doesn't matter if the neighbor accepts the Gospel or rejects it; it doesn't matter if the neighbor is a stripper, prostitute, drug addict, thief, homeless person, Muslim, Leper, someone with a differing lifestyle choice or a Religious pharisee (that is the one I have trouble with, I can love a stinky homeless person or a prostitute faster than I can someone who is really religious and judgmental. I have to work to love them when I see it rearits ugly head. I think I would I would rather go live in a dump in Guatemala than have to interact daily with "the religious elite". God will not allow me, though, to write those types off. He won't allow me to hate them. He convicts me that, judging them and wishing ill of them is just as ugly as them misunderstanding me and thinking ill of me--double ouch!!!) We have to start loving our neighbors. Until we reach the place where more of us love our neighbors (especially the ones of us who know the Gospel) the world is hopeless and will never change. The people we interact with daily and live around are the very people God has placed in our lives. They are our neighbors. Love is the key to the whole thing. It is the key to the Kingdom; it is the key to life. LOVE IS THE WHOLE POINT. We are all missing it. O Lord, please fill me with Your love. Let the motivation of everything I do be love. Let the plumb line I measure everything be love. Let me love You so much that it overflows on every person that comes any where near me. Let me come to the place where love would flow out of me like a mighty river. What if could come to place that we stop worrying about ourselves, our rights, what we want; what if we could worry about loving and providing for the needs of others and let God take care of defending our rights, providing our needs and helping us want less stuff? "Greater love has no man than this, that he lay down his life for his friends." "Let this mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus who being in the form of God....made Himself of no reputation, taking the form of a bond servant...."If we could start loving and being servants with no regard to our selves or what others think the world and the people of the world would be dramatically changed. God is able to take care of whether we get taken advantage of or not. Radical idea, yeah, revolutionary, that is what the Gospel is all about. "The Kingdom of God is at hand." It was so radical that Jesus and most of His followers were put to death over it. The "safe"Gospel we preach and follow is not the Kingdom. The Gospel we know is impudent and powerless in the face of "the Kingdom". I am not saying we don't know God and that many of us have had our lives transformed, but I am saying when we start really living the Kingdom the world will be impacted like we have never seen.

That was a rabbit trail, but vitally related. I have heard it said that, "what we believe about a situation, directly impacts what we do about it." If we don't believe that children are really starving all over the world, we don't have to do anything about it. If we believe that the situation in Africa is a result of civil war or immoral behavior, and therefore deserved, we don't have to do anything about it. If the Ghettos are results of lifestyle choices then it is okay to keep living outlandish lifestyles and never attempting to share resources to make the Ghettos better. Elitism. We have worked hard to earn what we have.

BULL SHIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Sorry for the language, but I think it was necessary. We have what we have b/c God gave it to us. He allowed us to be born here, to go to school, to be able to work hard; He gave us our houses, our jobs, everything we have He gave us. Why did He give us what we have? Have you ever stopped to ask God why He gave you what He gave you? Oh, what a horrible realization it will be when we get to Eternity and see the impact we could have had with our resources. I am reading a book that states that we could wipe out poverty with one generation if we only had the will. Compassion international asks the question, "What is the opposite of poverty?" The answer most people gave was "Rich." They pose the idea that the opposite of poverty is enough. What if we could all have just enough? What if I could let go of what was more than enough to give enough to others? Do we ever really think we have enough? When we get to where we thought would be enough, we want more.

What really spawned this post was some of the things that I have heard lately in regards to our neighborhood and school. First I must admit, that I was one of the ones I am talking about a few years ago. I did not see it until God showed me. So I cannot blame those who are blind to the truth and who believe this way, b/c if we can't see something we can't see it. We don't see until we see. I am sure that there are still many layers of elitism I need to deal with; I do the only thing I know to do; I cry out to the Author and Finisher of my faith and ask Him to show me and change me, but in the mean time I also must speak to truth and do what i can to push back the darkness. I have to challenge ignorance, blindness and injustice. I choose to look the Darkness in the face and say I will not let your voice be louder than my voice any longer. At some point in History a generation has to rise up and say, with hearts full of love, "no more." I will be one, if He would send me. Lord, let it be our generation. Seeing color has not really been an issue for me for a very long time. If I could have the choice, all of my children would marry a different race so I could have grand children who are all different colors. I have been elitist about economic status and some of the complications of living in a lower income area. I have to say that I have fallen in love with this neighborhood and school. I don't want to move anymore.

I love that my children go to a school that is only 29% white. Compared the next closest school that is 75% white. 46% of our school is economically disadvantage, compared to 8% of this neighboring school; In spite of the fact that a large portion of our students come from non English speaking home, our school has received an Exemplary Rating and an 8 from the great school rating. Our teachers work really hard to help children have an leg up and a chance to succeed at life. I love that my children go to a "real life school". I don't want them to grow up in a mainly upper middle class white environment. They know how to love and get along with children who are different colors, different cultures, and have different economic experiences. They don't see color; I don't think they even see money or lack of money. It makes me so sad when I hear people talk about our neighborhood going to pot. It just shows me the Elitism in their hearts and causes me to pray for them. How sad it is that so many children in our neighborhood are transferred to the "other" school. They are not getting a realistic life experience and they are not being equipped with the ability to get along with and learn from many different life experiences. This beautiful community and school is my ministry and calling. I love that God put me here and is now allowing our family to stay here. I love that I get to impact these children and love them. I love that He is allowing me to call out of them the creativity and artistic natures within them through CREATE (my after school program). What an amazing privilege to be able to give to some of the economically disadvantaged the opportunity to have artistic influence that their parents cannot afford to give them. As a matter of fact, I think we might be considered economically disadvantaged. It doesn't seem like it to me, b/c God always takes care of our needs, but in the scheme of things we fall into that category as well.

This is just a small glimpse of how racism and elitism is alive and well in the world today. Oh, that we could love one another, regardless.

Love story-- Part 1

I have been feeling like it is time to tell the story of how Larry and I came to be. I will warn you that this is going to be long, but it promises to rival some of your favorite chic flicks. It has all the elements of a great love story. Some people know the story; some know parts of the story; some have never heard at all. I am sure that no one has heard it like I am about to tell it. God taught me so much and showed himself so faithful through the whole process. There are so many details, but they are very important and God is in the details. I also want to apologize ahead of time for the drippings of bitterness that may creep. I am going to try to tell this in a positive light and not let the ugliness come out, but it may seep in a bit. I am sorry for that; just know that I pray about it daily and have for a long time and God is working things out. Maybe telling all the beautiful parts of the story will further help me process and release any pain that still remains.

So here we go, buckle up b/c it is quite a ride.

We have established that I was terribly abused and was shattered into a million pieces when Jesus introduced himself to me. I had never felt loved until Jesus told me He loved me. I was 7 months pregnant when I met Jesus. (I really need to tell that story very soon. I will try). Jesus immediately did a 180 degree turn around in my life, from the moment He came to dwell in my heart. He started healing, changing and restoring me in a miraculous and very quick way. He brought stability to me before I even realized what He was doing. That was probably for the benefit of the child I was carrying. I had never had a healthy relationship all of my life.

I have tried to do that math to get timing right, but forgive me if some of the timing is off or doesn't seem to line up. I am doing my best to try and make it all as accurate as possible. I do know that I met Jesus on July 17, 1992; it was a Friday night. It did not take very long at all for God to convince me that He had one perfect person for me to spend my life with. I knew that if I was patient and prayerful, He would bring that person to me. I believe that if God is capable of saving us and leading us, He is more than capable of bringing the right person at the right time. He didn't need my help. I really walked in that truth. I noticed people; I would wonder if that was the one, but I did not believe in dating. Take what you want from that. It was the stance I took, and it worked for me. I thought that I would insist on that for my children, but my children are aloud to date (that change is also a story for another day). I believe that I met Larry when Ally was in the 18 months to 2 years range. (I always say she was 1, but looking back I am not entirely sure). She could walk, I know. We met in a singles group that a friend organized. And I was fresh out of the world. Because I had come from such an extreme, I went extremely the other direction. EXTREME is really the only way you could describe me. Looking back, I am not sure why Larry did not run away screaming in the other direction.

I wore no earrings; I grew my hair out long, straight and with no color. I wore no make up. I wore ankle length skirts. (Hard for the people that know me now to even imagine). I was really whacky too. Bible thumper to the extreme mixed with my own brand of religiosity. I am definitely a Christian and very passionate about my walk with Jesus, but I hope Jesus has pruned the whackiness out of me.

Larry and I became friend pretty quickly and fell in love with one another pretty quickly. I prayed a lot about becoming involved with him and went to the leadership of the church for direction. I felt very strongly about not dating for the sake of dating. I believed in courtship. If I got involved with someone it was going to be b/c I was going to marry that person. Talk about being scary and intimidating for the man. Poor Larry. The guys who think their girl is trying to move too fast, just need to talk to him. There was no dating. We were friends then if he wanted to pursue it further we were talking about marriage. (I am glad God was in this thing, b/c he really should have run). I had been praying and not dated anyone for almost 2 years from the time that I met Jesus. We did start dating/courting, whatever you want to call it. We got to know each other and really adored each other.

I have never been loved the way he loves me. Sometimes I feel like I must be Cinderella b/c my love life seems like a fairy tales. He is the man of my dreams. I truly love this man more today than the day I married him. He has always loved me for exactly who I am, baggage and all. We balance each other so well and bring out the best in each other. I believe that God gave us the exact temperament and put us in the exact environment to make me and him who we are and that the combination is perfect to bring us where God wants us to be.

We were together for about 9 months. We were starting to plan the wedding. Ally called him daddy. I never doubted that he was the one that I was meant to be with so I dove in head first. I gave him all that I was, and shared all I was capable of sharing with him. Over the years, he has gotten to know me better and has seen parts of me that he didn't see back then. It is not that I was hiding intentionally, but as I get to know myself He gets to know me. I have had to receive a lot of healing and let God show me who I am, was and will be, b/c I did not know. Larry has always adored me and treated me like I was the most beautiful precious thing he has ever laid eyes on. When I still felt dirty, used and like a whore, he never viewed me that way. It was as if the past just didn't matter to him. He did, fall in love with Ally before he fell in love with me, but she was so so so cute. He couldn't help it. We both had a lot of baggage and it was very different baggage. I had baggage from the world and abuse. He had baggage from the Church.

Here is where my words could seem to be a little contaminated with yuck and again, I am sorry. I will try to keep that from getting in. I was, as I see it, kind of like the church mascot. I had a pedestal kind of mindset. Whether I just took that on, or it was given to me, I am not sure. It is probably a combination of both. The attitude was, "Look at this, look at what we did; she was a mess and we fixed her." Having been raised in an environment that did not really involve church, I didn't really know how church was supposed to be. There were some balance problems, but I was not able to see them. If they said jump, I said how high. In my mind they could do not wrong. They were my leadership, and I was to obey what they said. I didn't really question, what I was taught, I just believed it. Well, that was not the case with Larry. He had mind of his own, and He was not going to let anyone control him. He studied what the Bible said and asked questions. That was really a bone of contention between us. I really had hard time when he did not agree with them and we would fight over it. I loved that church, the people and the leadership; I wanted them and him to agree. I always felt kind of torn between them. I felt like I had to submit to them and like choosing to disobey them would be choosing to disobey God; I also felt like Larry was home, he was my true love and where I belonged.

The day came that I was told to break it off with Him. I can remember feeling like someone punched me in the stomach. I felt like my heart had been ripped out of my chest. I fell to the ground and began to weep uncontrollably. I am not sure what the catalyst was or what motivation was behind it. Looking back it seems like letting us be together inevitably would have led to them losing me b/c he would take me out of the church. Was that the motivation? I don't know. I may never know. It was devastating for the both is us.

Now, I don't think it is the churches place to tell you who to be with or not to be with. My flesh would like to say that it was wrong what they did to us, but then God in my heart points out to me how much better off we are b/c we went through this thing. Keep reading b/c it just keeps getting better. I can't say whether they were wrong or right now. I can say God is good and in control and WOW did he do some amazing things through this situation and to bring us back together.

The way it was presented to me was, "That Larry would be a weight to me, that He would keep me from accomplishing the call of God on my life." Well, when presented with the choice of a man or Jesus. Of course, for me, what I had to choose was obvious. Was it easy? No, to this day, it is one of the hardest thing I have ever had to do. It is the most painful thing, I have gone through since I began walking with Jesus. Truth be known, it was never a choice between Larry and Jesus; it was a choice between Larry and the church. Unfortunately, I was manipulated and the choice made to seem different than it was. Jesus gave me everything I have; He got me off of drugs and set me free; He healed me and called me out of darkness. Though, I loved Larry with all my heart, He did not do any of that for me. So I chose to end it.

My heart was shattered into a million pieces. I truly felt wounded by God. I had prayed so diligently about getting involved with Larry. I did not understand why God would say yes and then take him away from me. I would ask, "Why couldn't you have just said no, I would have obeyed God. I would have been willing to accept no. But why give and then take." The truth is Job says, "The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away." He can take anything He wants. I pressed into Him and cried out to him. Though, I felt He had taken my love away, I sought Him non the less. Jesus was and is everything to me, so I could not let this devastation drive me away from Him. I let it draw me closer to him. I read a lot in the Psalms. I would read and weep and pray and sob. I begged for God to take the pain away and make me willing to do His will. I begged for Him to break my will and make me strong enough to rejoice in Him no matter what He would require of me. I sobbed so deep within myself a couple of times that I would throw up. I have never felt sorrow of heart like it felt. Ally was around 2 or 3 and I would try to keep it together for her, but I was just so broken to the core of myself. I did not really share that agony with many people. I don't think I felt like I could. I felt like I had to put on a strong front of obedience so that no one would think I wasn't submissive to God or that I doubted. I tried to move on with life, but it really was like we were grieving a death. I guess we really were grieving the death of the love and of the dream. On Larry's side of things, He lost his wife to be and his daughter. Really they all felt like they were grieving the death of us. It rocked every one's lives. Ally changed; it wasn't something she could express or you could even put your finger on it, but she changed. The carefree, bubbly little girl went away and she seemed sad and confused. We were all confused. In my heart, I knew I loved him, but I had to deny it and pretend like I didn't love him. The only thing I could do was turn the love to hatred. Love and hate really are next door neighbors. True hate has to start out with some measure of love. The real opposite of love is indifference.

I was instructed that letting Ally continue to have a relationship with Larry or his family would be a mistake. That I would just be giving an already rebellious child a place to run away to. First, looking back, Alexandra (as we called her back then) was not rebellious. She was bubbly, joyous, full of life. She loved to sing and dance; she was very well behaved even. I told her not to do something, she just didn't do it. The other two certainly were not like that.

Things were hard for me, but at least I had the church family; Larry was just cast out by himself.

He was alone and confused. He became very angry with God. I did not run to Him. He ran away from God. As far as he was concerned, God lied to him and took me away from him. Larry felt like God told him (in high school) that He would only fall in love one time and that she would be the one for him. He fell in love and as far as he was concerned God took me away from him or at least let the church take me away from him.

To make this story more readable, I am going to divide it up into parts.

More on Mom.

This morning as I ran, I began to ponder my mother again. As bad as things were when we were growing up, it could have been so much worse. She really tried to love us. She just didn't know how. She had never been loved, therefore she did not love herself so she was incapable of really loving herself. The word says, "Love you neighbor as yourself." If we don't love ourselves, we can't really love others. If we hate ourselves, and we love our neighbor as ourselves then we hate our neighbor. Anyway, my mom never set out to be mean to us or hurt us. It was never in her heart to cause any kind of harm to us. She would have given anything to see us grow up happy and whole and to go further than she did.

What really sparked these thoughts was hearing a friend talk about her mother. The circumstances surrounding her conception were very unhappy and complicated. It involved some really bad situations. Her mother felt the need to tell her about those shameful circumstances her whole life. Her mother hated her, and wished ill to her her whole life. Her mother blamed her for something that she had no control over. It is not as if this girl chose to be conceived when she was conceived. Her mother has hated her for her whole life for something she had not control over and could not ever change. She treated her bad and called her stupid, and used the conception problem as an excuse. Instead of seeing God's grace in giving her a child and embracing it as a blessing, she has treated this wonderful, amazing woman as a curse for her entire life. How horrible that would have to be, to grow up like that. I have found myself praying diligently for this friend over the last couple days. My heart is so broken for her. I feel such a deep agonizing ache in my heart for her. I have found myself praying for God to restore her sense of destiny, redeem the years the enemy has stolen from her and turn what the enemy has used to harm her for her whole life around to smack him right in the face with it. I want God to comfort and let His truth sink deep into the deepest parts of her soul. GOD DOES NOT MAKE MISTAKES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Every person conceived and born was created by Him and for Him. "He knit us together within our mothers womb. He has numbered our days and the very hairs upon our heads. I pray that every person who has ever felt like a mistake finds and reads this blog and that God illuminates the truth to their hearts. He created each of us. "God is not a man that He should lie, nor is he the son of man that He should repent." "His ways are higher than our ways and His thoughts higher than our thoughts." He knows, and allows and plans. Receive the truth in your heart, you are not and have never been a mistake. My oldest daughter and my son know the circumstances surrounding their conceptions. They were not "conventional" by any means. I mean, I was a drug addict when Ally was conceived and my husband and I were not married when Stephen was conceived and wouldn't be married until Stephen was 2 or 3. Neither one of those children was a mistake. God sent them to me. They were both instrumental in bringing growth and healing in my life to different areas. (Another story I need to write about.) Ally saved my life and God used Stephen to put me and Larry back together as a family.

It makes me so sad when I hear about people growing up in some of there terrible situations. I cannot imagine ever making one of my children feel like they were a mistake. As a matter of fact, these children are my life. They are second only to my love for Jesus. Every decision I make has them at the center of it; I way everything next to them. They are my treasure; they are some of the greatest blessings in my life. I see it as a great privilege and responsibility to be their mother. I am so sorry for those who have grown up feeling less than that. Little girls are meant to be princesses and little boys are meant to be handsome knights in shining armor. God has used my children to teach me so many amazing lessons and to heal so many horrible wounds inside me.

Back to my point. No, I was not a little princess. My mother, though, never ever meant any ill will toward me. She would have never set out to intentionally hurt one of us. She might have been neglectful, but never intentionally hurtful. Had she realized the things that were going on, I don't think she would have hesitated to shoot some people in the head and worry about it later. She is fiercely protective of her children and grandchildren. I have no doubt she would step into the path of a bullet, car, train or any object threatening one of us including my husband. If someone were to do real harm to one of us, right or wrong, I believe she would do something about it even if it meant jail. I was just struck this morning again as I prayed for my friend how blessed I am to have my mother and how things were really not so bad. I truly believe that my mother never ever meant harm to us and really only ever wanted good things for us. She just wasn't capable of giving the good things and love that her heart wanted to give us. So things could have been so much worse. She has never ever made me feel like I was a mistake, even when I stole from her, verbally abused her, and became the iceberg of cold indifference I was for the first few years I walked with God. She just prayed and tried to love me anyway she could; she has striven for the last 20 years to make up for the harm that was done.

No more striving!!! "It is finished" so declared the Creator and Savior of the universe. He has made ALL THINGS Right.

I love the part of the Serenity Prayer that says, "Trusting that you will make all things right if I surrender to His will."

I don't deny that things were bad, but they could have been so much worse. And I have a Redeemer who makes all things right, so I don't have to worry or fret, nothing is wasted and all will be as it is supposed to be.

Mother--This starts painful, but finish it, the ending is great

Beautiful Redemption

My relationship with my mother, though wonderful now,did not start out very good and was rocky for a very, very long time. When I was a child, she was clinically depressed. She slept for what seems like most of my child hood. We grew up in a house that was indescribably messy and often times filthy. My Mom has said that CPS probably would have taken us out of the home if they had ever come in and looked. She allowed a lot of really terrible things to happen to me and my brother. We were very angry as we grew up. I can say for myself, I wasn't even aware of what I was angry about. I just knew that I despised her. She was not one to hold us, hug us or anything until we were much older. As she tells it, she used to leave me in my crib with a bowl of cereal and sippy cup. I think my aversion to physical contact is tied to that. I read one time that babies and toddlers are developing nerve endings and if they don't get stimulated in certain ways the nerves relating to that stimulation don't develop properly. That would explain why sometimes being touched is painful to me and why I have a definite bubble. I have been known to react in a pretty unreasonable way to violation of the bubble. Needless to say, I think I was probably pretty justified in being angry. I started doing drugs, cutting myself and attempting suicide by the age of 13.

In her defense, she really did the very best she could with the equipment she had. She had been terribly abused and neglected as a child. The only way she knew to deal with the pain of her childhood was denial to the point of actually dividing herself into different people. The unfortunate side effect of her denial was that she could not see that her abuser and others were victimizing her children. Those years were dark to us all.

On the other hand, all of my childhood memories of her are not bad. I have some pretty distinct good memories. I remember one Christmas she made all this Barbie jewelry for me by stringing beads. This was not an easy feat b/c she is blind as a bat. I remember hunting for Easter Eggs. I remember her buying us an Atari. I remember her buying us doughnuts for breakfast on Friday mornings. There were these giant chocolate doughnuts as big as my head (as I remember it). I also remember her being told that my brother was a hopeless case and a sociopath (one without a conscience). They told her to just sign him over to the state b/c he would spend his whole life in prison. She refused to do that. Today we are all grateful b/c he is okay, and such would not be the case had she abandoned him. Believe me, it would have been easier. He was totally out of control. Burning things down, turning the car off while we drove down the highway, terrorizing the whole neighborhood. It took a lot for her to keep us together. We were both pretty horrible children at different times.

She also gave me some really great traits. She raised me to be very independent and to take care of myself. Now my independence has had to be tempered and still needs more tempering. Thankfully, God is busy working on that. But I am not someone who is easy to knock down; I am not a whiner, nor am I really needy. That is something she helped develop in me. I have seen my mother move a couch up a flight of stairs by herself. She kept clear of relationships when she realized that she was not capable of attracting healthy men. We may have grown up without father figures, but we also grew up without added abusers and pain inflicted from boyfriends and step dads coming and going.

Our family was incomprehensibly broken and devastated when we met Jesus. My mother was the first one to come to Jesus. After being in hospital after hospital, we finally came to one that had the insight that if they got my mother put back together then it would be easier to put me and my brother back together. After she got onto the path of healing, she would endure a few more years of dealing with us before we would come in. She prayed for us faithfully.

My mother told me in a recent conversation that her biggest fear used to be that I would just leave and never talk to her again. I have to say there was a time when I wanted nothing more than that. There was years even after I got saved that I felt so much hatred for her and wanted to just separate myself from her and my brother.

Thankfully, God did not allow that to happen. It has been a long, slow process, but God has done an amazing, miraculous work in our family.

My mother has lived with us for the last 5 years; for that I am grateful. There has been so much healing, restoration and redemption. We are so much closer than we used to be. I am not saying that things don't get a little ugly every once in a while. We scream sometimes, but there is less screaming and much more communication. We have learned to talk about things and be gracious to one another. We have learned to accept one another for who each of us is and where each of us happens to be.

God has redeemed so much of what my mother lost through my family. Before my husband and I were married, me and my two older children lived with my mother. She allowed me to be a stay at home mom and raise my children in a way that she was never able to do for me and my brother. There was even a point that she worked full time and went to school full time while I stayed home with the kids. God allowed her to give to her grandchildren what she was not able to give to us. She is also responsible, along with God, for allowing me to give birth to the first generation in our family of Christians. My children were born into a home what worshiped God rather than Satan (literally). She has been so so so good to us in the years since Jesus arrested her heart. There is nothing she would not do for me, my brother, my children and my husband. She would give her life for us; she would give her hands and feet if she thought it would make our lives better. God has healed her heart so much by watching my children grow up. She adores my husband and he adores her. She has been known to work 12 or even 14 hours a day to make money to help with bills are to have money for some one's birthday. She adores her grandchildren and they adore her. No one in our family could ever imagine her not living with us. And we really never intend on letting her move out. What an amazing blessing it is that my children only have to walk upstairs to hug their grandma. I cannot imagine not seeing my mother every day. I know that being close and seeing each other every day will make losing her so much harder. I know that the day will come the Jesus will call her home, so I have to treasure each moment we have. We lost a lot of moments early in live so we try to make up for that now. Man have we made some great memories. We have laughed together; we have cried together. My mother is my biggest fan. She is the loudest cheerleader I have. She supports everything I do and tells every one who will listen about the things I do and how proud of me she is. I was listening to a friend talk recently about losing her mother. She said she had no idea how hard it would be and there had not been tons of communication b/c her mother had had alzhiemers. That is when it hit me how blessed I have been with my relationship with my mother and how imaginably painful it will be when I had to lose her. I won't let the thought of that pain cause me to draw away from her though. I will continue to know her better and let God draw us closer. He will deal with the pain when and if that happens. I will NEVER run away and leave her now. She need not fear that. She is treasure to me. She is such an important part of our family. I love her with all my heart. She is amazing. I know that she does not have to make up for her past mistakes, but if we were comparing on a scale, the good so far outweighs the bad. She has made up for it all a million times over. As great as things are now, I know thatGod has only scratched the surface of what He wants to do.

Don't ever think that any person or any situation is beyond redemption. It is hard to describe so that you can understand, but our family was broken beyond any earthly hope of restoration. Think of us like a vase. Take the vase smash it, now roll over it with a bulldozer. Then take a tornado and blow on the dust that is left until is scatters to the four corners of the earth. There is more hope of you finding the pieces of that vase and putting it back together than there was hope for our family. The things we endured and the things that we did to each other cannot even be spoken of in most circles. But God is Good. He is able to do the impossible. He always has an amazing plan and it always involves turning what the enemy meant for our harm around for our good. We will be closer, stronger and filled with more love and dedication to one another than we ever would have been if we had "been normal".

I have news for you, too, mom; all that creativity, beauty and talent inside me came from you. So it is there in you. You just have to let God excavate it. My intelligence came from you too. You may have had your identity stolen from you so that it has been missing your whole life, but God is at work and He is bigger than any loss, and bigger than the enemy who stole who you are. He's giving it back to you. Keep fighting for your heart.

We have had some of the most amazing adventures. One of the funniest ones, I have to share. We have laughed and laughed over this. Anyone who went to the church I got saved in will find this extremely humorous b/c you have probably never heard this story. In the early years, I was on food stamps and medicaid with the children. My mom's money paid the bills and we ate on the food stamps. If I remember correctly our family of 4 survived on 288 dollars worth of food stamps and WIC. We ate meat, maybe one time a week. We lived on mac n cheese, ramen noodles, fish sticks, beans, and stuff like that; also it was always the off brands. The church was doing a food drive and we wanted to give to it. We cleaned the church on the weekends so we had a key to the church. We took half of our food stamps for the month and went shopping. We really thought about what we wanted to buy too. We went in with the mindset of "what do poor people never get to eat?" We bought real brands; we bought a bunch of meat; we had so much fun shopping for the poor people that we didn't even think about the fact that we weren't going to have much to eat for that month. We really didn't care. We were just so excited to give. We didn't want anyone to know what we had done,so we snuck in the church really late and put all the stuff in the box and put the meat in the freezer; we left a note in the box so they would know that there was also meat in the freezer. So Christmas Eve comes and we hear a knock on our door. They brought all the food to us. We were the poor people. Of course, we didn't tell them what we had done. We were actually pretty mad at God for a minute. "We gave that for the poor people." I guess we didn't see ourselves as the poor people. We were definitely pretty poor. After the initial irritation at God for giving our gift back to us, we were really grateful and we ate really, really good that month. Every year at Christmas we tell that story and laugh historically. We have come a long way. We do pretty well financially, now. We have that memory together, though. It's a great memory that makes us crack up every year even 14 or 15 years later. That is not only one. We have many many more. And we will makes many more.

DON'T FORGET; GOD IS GOOD; HE IS ALWAYS AT WORK; AND NO ONE AND NOTHING IS BEYOND HIS REACH AND HIS REDEMPTION.

Every day He has something to teach me

This morning I slept in until 7. It doesn't seem very significant unless you realize that i haven't slept past 5 in probably 6 weeks. Most days I wake up at 4 (no alarm, just awake). My body must have needed the sleep today; I didn't have much to do today anyway. One of the great things about waking up at 4 or 5 am is that the house is very quiet. I am the only one and there are no distractions from my running and prayer. Like I have said before my time running with God is the most treasured part of my day. I am very much a creature of habit. I also tend to be pretty obsessive compulsive. I like things the way I like them. I am learning to be flexible, but I am not a huge fan of change. I have come a million miles, but I think I probably still have a hundred million miles to go, especially in this area.

When I got up and climbed onto my treadmill, I figured that Chloe and her two friends would wake pretty quickly. They did and began to makes noise and move around. My first instinct was to get tense inside; I could feel the irritation begin to rise inside of me. I was thinking, "Well, this prayer time will be wasted. I will get my exercise in, but it won't be the same." The thing you must understand is that, while I enjoy running, it is really the time I spend with God while I run that makes me so passionate about working out every morning. Then, very quietly, God spoke. "Your prayer time does not have to be ruined. It will be different, but change is good for you, my child. Let me show you. Let's do it a little differently." So, I am not stupid. When He speaks, I have learned to listen. He knows and always has something in store. If I am open He works through everything, sometimes quite unexpectedly. I began to prayer that God would help me love and embrace the chaos that having a house full of children brings. I began to prayer for love, tolerance and flexibility. I prayed that God would help me begin to be able to filter out and function with the noise and chaos, so that it wouldn't make me tense and cranky. I prayed that God would help me let go of control and needing for everything to be "How I wanted it." Loving people is messy and chaotic. One of the greatest desires of my heart has been, for a very long time, to have a house full of kids. To have the house where everyone hangs out. That I would be able to love and impact all of my children's friends. I want to have tons of food to feed them, room for them to hang out, and lots of supplies for them to come and be creative with. I have not really walked in that desire. The catch is that lots of children around means noise, chaos and mess. These things are not pleasant to me. These are things I try to avoid. Well, its no wonder that this desire has not been fulfilled in my life. I am too much of a control freak to allow it. The kind of house my heart wants is not the kind of house my flesh wants. God is going to have to change me, heal some things, and teach me to let go and be at ease with a different kind of environment. He will have to teach me that being in a less "controlled" environment is okay and won't kill me. He will teach me to see beauty in the mess and chaos, to begin to hear the beautiful music in the noise, and to flourish in a house filled with people.

I cannot bring any of these changes about in my life. A counselor cannot bring me to this place. God, on the other hand, can transform me into that person. He gave me the desire and He will bring it to pass. He is so good and faithful to point out to me what He wants to work on and what needs to be taken care off so that His plans can come to pass. He makes me able to pray for help. He gives me the desire, shows me my lack, causes me to be willing to ask Him for help and even to ask him to make me willing to ask Him to makes me willing, then His precious Holy Spirit prays for me, through me, and finally He answers the prayers. The thing about my time on the treadmill is that somehow the exercise combined with the prayer short circuits my mind. Its like my mindsets and notions are taken out of the equation and I can pray from the heart in a way that I don't when I just pray. He gives me the courage to pray things that my flesh finds scary; He allows me to utter prayers that I might not otherwise utter. I don't know what your view of prayer is, but I believe when we utter a prayer it flutters about like a bird until the time when it is answered. Sometimes prayers are answered almost immediately and sometimes they are not answered for years. I have uttered prayers in deep times of prayer and then totally forgotten about them. Then later, sometimes 5, 10 or 15 years later, God brings them to pass and reminds me that I prayed them. Prayers are never wasted. They are out there, somewhere, in the heavens, who knows where, but they are out there waiting for fulfillment or working the fulfillment out. I read something profound once in an amazing and very old book called All things for Good. If you can find that book; read it; it will definitely impact you. It is an old book though, so you will have to special order it. I used to have a bunch of copies, but I have given them away over the years. Anyway, the book was talking about prayer and how prayer is used for the good of the saint. It talked about how every prayer is used and that even when we pray things that are not His will or with the wrong motives, or whatever, the Holy Spirit takes those prayers as a mother takes a bunch of flowers picked by a child and removes the weeds, binds them into a beautiful bouquet and hands them to the Father. What a release of pressure that gave me. What peace it gave me. When I pray or someone prays for me, there is no need to fear, the Holy Spirit makes those prayers what they need to be. He cleans them up and presents them to the Father.

Have I been transformed this morning into that person who is flexible and willing to let chaos happen? Definitely, not. But I am a step closer. God helped me pray what I needed to pray to see that come to pass. Those prayers went out, and "the prayers of a righteous man avails much." God used this mornings situation to bring me to the place that I would see the need and ask for His help. For that I am so grateful. I am so glad that He is always at work. What an amazing, wonderful, gracious, wise, loving, perfect God we serve. What a miracle that God would use children, who are completely unaware of what He is doing, to work in me today. I can only hope that God uses me that way. That, in His graciousness, He would use me to touch people's hearts as I just live my life daily. I hope that as I live my life would be like a pebble dropped about and that the rings that emanate from it would go further than I could ever imagine.

I'm an Artist????

It may be hard for the people who know me as I am now to believe, but it has been a long hard journey to believe and walk in my calling as an artist. Most of those I am in relationship now see me as a very creative individual and probably could not imagine me not creating. I love to make things, all kinds of different things; I love learn new creative expressions and try new ways to create all the time. But, even as recent as 5 years ago, I would have denied being creative and would not have even dreamed of ever referring to myself as an artist. It has been such an interesting and long journey to arrive here and I know God is not any where near finished. I don't think that my heart can even begin to comprehend the plans God has for me. I will probably be astounded at where I am 5 years from now. Looking back I realize now, that God called and created me to be an artist from before my conception. He set things into motion, before I was ever a twinkle in my mother's eye and before she was a twinkle in her parents eyes. He also allowed the enemy to steal my creativity and artistic nature from me for a good 30 to 35 years. I will get to the reason for that later. There have been glimpse of the creativity over the years, but I just pretty much saw them as flukes. So, finding and unleashing my creativity has been a long and interesting journey.

I have to start at the point where I think the most devastating blow to my creativity happened. I have spent a lot of time praying and asking God to show me where it began. Or, should I say since I realized that God was revealing to me my creative nature, I have been praying. The creativity has been really bubbling up over the last 4 years. God really turned up the pressure on the bubbling about 2 years ago; then, He caused the bubbling to turn to a full boil about a year ago. It was at the point when the boiling began that I really started praying and seeking Him to help me set the artist in me free and to show me the root of the belief that I was not capable of being an artist. It was as if I had put the artistic part of me in a box and buried her deep in the soil of my basement. She was almost dead when I found her. Her breathing so shallow, that I was not even sure she was still breathing. She had been hidden so long deep under ground without any oxygen, food, water, light or any of the things we so desperately need to survive. I despaired that she would survive and breath again. Would she ever be a part of me, again? Had I forever put to death that beautiful part of who I was? The enemy had sought to use me to destroy her; it seemed she could not be resurrected. But the enemy of our soul always over plays his hand. "What he means for our destruction, God ALWAYS intends for our GOOD!!!!!!" Jesus took my hand and led me down into to basement of despair, the place where dreams were put to death. And we began to dig. I wasn't even sure what we were digging for when we began to dig. I knew it was cold down there and scary; the air was heavy with despair. The we reached our destination. The coffin was revealed. The box seemed so familiar to me. Why did this thing buried deep inside me seem so familiar, yet I was not clear what we had found. Then as we opened the lid, a gasp escaped my mouth. I heart sank. Even in her emaciated, lifeless state, she was beautiful. I knew her. She was the artist, the creator, the maker of beauty. "Fear not," He said to me,"Even as I called Lazarus out of the tomb to life, I call you out of death, I breath life into you. I have called you out of darkness, come forth and shine my light through the creativity I gave you before you ever were."

I see now that allowing me to have my creativity stolen for so long, has been a beautiful part of the plan of my life. Having to fight so hard for my artistic nature has given me a drive, a passion, a tenacious ferocity for creating and encouraging creativity. It has developed in my heart not only a passion to be creative, but a dedication to developing and encouraging creativity in others. Having suffered the loss of my creativity and having suffered from not having it developed or encouraged in my life, has made me so passionate about being one who would draw creativity out of people and inspire people to attempt new things and see how much potential is in each one of us. As I have been walking this path and fighting for it, I have picked up equipment and tools along to way to use to help others. Just as exercise develops strength in our bodies, so this fight has given me strength to fight for those who don't have the vision or strength to fight for themselves. I have a pretty enormous vision for a creative war that is worldwide. More on that later.

Back to the root of the problem (as usual my writing has gone chasing rabbits). As I have looked back to find when I first buried the artist, I came to something that seemed so minuscule and silly. It is, non the less, the point at which the artist was placed underground. When I was in first grade, I had a teacher that was pretty mean. She really did not like me. Now, granted my Mom was clinically depressed so she did not do the greatest job caring for us. This teacher thought little girls should always have their hair up during the warm months. She would daily complement those girls whose hair was up in a pony tail, while stating that little girls should have their hair put up. Well, my momma did not put my hair up. I was lucky if it was brushed well. The impact of that effected me up until the last 3 or 4 years. My girls ALWAYS had their done. When Ally's hair was not even long enough to be up, it was in tiny little pony tails on top of her head. It was a huge issue in my life, that my children always looked nice and had their hair done. The same teacher was the one who delivered the death blow to the artist. One day she held up a picture that I had colored in front of the whole class and stated that "it looked like a kinder gardener had colored it. Though, she did not say it was my picture, I knew that it was. Then when my mother confronted her about it, she lied and said she had done no such thing. My poor mother, had been so beaten down and abused her whole life, that she did not have the confidence to stand up to her so it was dropped. It seems liked such a seemingly insignificant thing, but it impacted me in such a devastating way. The influence of that teacher effected my life and the lives of my children for about 26 years. Wow, we never know what kind of impact we will have on people. We can make them into something amazing or we can leave them bleeding to death. I have forgiven her. She obviously was a very unhappy person. I hope that she found peace in her life. God used the pains she caused in my life to be used to make me who I am today and to make me so cognisant of the need to have creativity encouraged in our lives especially as children.

Now here the beautiful irony of God is revealed. A good friend once pointed out to me how like God it was that the little girls who was made fun of for her hair would become a hair dresser and help people have pretty hair. Now in recent months, God has revealed even more irony. The little girl who had her art made fun of and who has struggled to become an artist is starting an after school art program so children can find the artist in them. The program is called CREATE (Children Rendering Extraordinary Art Through Exploration).

This is how CREATE was birthed. My family was praying and thinking about moving to another school district where I could send my youngest child to a Magnet School for Artistically talented children. Another part of that decision was to decrease our living expenses. My youngest is very very gifted in a lot of different ways. (I know everyone thinks that their children are extraordinary, but this one has talent oozing from her pores). She is extremely intelligent and scores very high on academic tests; she also draws, writes stories, and has perfect pitch. She started writing songs at 6 years old. Our district has PACE for high intelligence, but nothing for children who excel in the Arts. Sometimes it seems like God has given me the opportunity, in Chloe, to watch and see myself grow up in a healthier environment where creativity and talent are encouraged. (not pushed, mind you, but encouraged.) She is very much a lot like me. She got a keyboard for Christmas and is proceeding to teach herself to play songs by ear. B/c of this talent, I have really been praying about changing districts. We knew were supposed to move, but still weren't sure where. One day while running and praying about school, moving, starting a small art club at our school, and how all this fit together, I heard a question come out of my heart. God said to me, "What if instead moving and effecting the life of one child by putting Chloe in a Magnet school, you started a volunteer driven after school magnet program at your school and effected hundreds of children?" I thought, "wow, okay, that is a pretty big project, but if you ask me to do something, you will help me do it. I am willing, but then you have help us find the right place to move, so we can afford to stay. I don't want to start something and let everyone down b/c I leave it before it is strong enough to stand without me." It was as if I was painting this really small picture, it was a pretty picture (there is nothing wrong with seeking the best for our children), but then God tapped me on the shoulder and asked to borrow the paint brush for a minute. He began to paint this really huge picture. It was the same concept only with much bigger significance and consequence. As He painted, it just kept getting bigger. "What if this program could be a pilot for other such programs at other schools?" It would eventually include drama, creative writing, sewing, photography, film, pottery, or any number of creative expressions. I hope that the program will eventually be every day after school with volunteers to come in and offer different classes for the children to explore, learn and grow. It also has 2 different shifts; shift one is for those who don't go to tutoring; shift two is offered so that the children in tutoring can come after tutoring and get the same experience. What an exciting opportunity and what an amazing privilege that God would call me to start it. What a picture of God's redemption that the little girl who was made fun of in school, would be used to start such an amazing program and potentially impact hundreds or thousands of children's lives. At our school these children are children who might not ever have the opportunity to some of these things b/c of financial restraints or struggling academically. This also serves as a warm up to what I really want to do.

Eventually, I would like to travel all around the globe taking art and creative expression to children who desperately need it. I want to do art with the children who live in dumps, the children orphaned by AIDS in Africa, the children who are struggling to recover from being child soldiers, the children who live in brothels, and children everywhere who live in hopelessness and separation from beauty. I believe that God will send me. I am willing to go. How amazing I think it would be to take my children and spend the summer in some of those places just loving and creating. That would be life changing both for the children we create with and for our family. Yeah, its a ridiculous vision, but if it isn't so big that you need God's help then what is the point?

Very quickly I want to trace the path that God put me on the reach the artist. I had wanted to be a hair dresser for about 21 years. I didn't make it to hair school when I was younger b/c of my drug problem. Then I started having children (which God used to get me off the drugs). I stayed home with them or worked daycare most of their lives. When my baby was about to start Kindergarten I enrolled in hair school. In hair school I was introduced to a make up academy that I attended and started doing make up. I fell in love with make up and got really really good at it. I finished hair school, but did not pursue doing hair as a profession. I did make up for several years and was really really good at special effects. It was doing make up that I began to see my creativity. I still told people that I was not an artist, just a make up artist. About 2 years ago, it became apparent that my son needed to be home schooled (that is a story for another day.) I also lost my position in the make up academy that I was employed by. The timing was just perfect to make a total shift in the direction I was headed in. God put it in my heart to begin sewing. I bought my first embroidery machine and started playing with sewing and designing. The sewing really was the catalyst to bring the simmering creativity to the full boil it is today. I love to make things and am constantly exploring news ways to make things; I want to start to combine creative expressions in new ways.

This brings us up to today.

I AM AN ARTIST. Not only am I an artist, I am an developer of artists. I intend to inspire and impact everyone I can. I want to spread the Creativity Virus. I intend to help people find their creativity without them even realizing what I am up to like a creativity ninja. Watch out, you never know what I might be up to in your life. :)