HE WATCHES EVERYTHING THAT CONCERNS US...

TRUSTING HIM FOREVER

IS WHAT COUNTS FOREVER.
=============
And I hope this will enter your hearts and minds.  The reason is because we need to spiritually go around and about to seek where the Lord is reaching out and touching the people in the area.  Some of my friends have been truck drivers who have served the Lord and opened more and more opportunities to drop the seed of the Lord 
into their hearts.  For me, when younger, seed planted into me was was an absolute necessity. 

As a missionary and server in Uganda, a prayer walker in Morocco, a short-term helper in Costa Rica, a visitor/spiritual teacher/helper in England, 
and as an American roundabouter has been
 laid on me and my dear ones.

In my case, it often is seed planting, but also spiritual warfare information, sharing regarding historically demonically spiritual connections that have forced places to go through extremely difficult and tough stretches.

So, as I said, this photo and the Word are spread out and about the blessings the Lord lays on us in this world 
from His truthful and caring heart.

DON'T LEAVE HIS PATHS!

YES!  LISTENING TO HIM,

FOCUSING ON HIS DIRECTIONS!

WOE!!! REALITY STRIKES AGAIN, OFTEN.

THIS IS A SPIRITUAL VERSE THAT THE LORD DROPPED INTO ME VERY FIRMLY NEARLY 20 YEARS AGO.

THE REASON?

THE SINFULNESS LISTED IS FOCUSED ON

 SPIRITUAL LEADERS.

ISAIAH 5 IS FILLED WITH THAT.

I NEED TO REMEMBER AND REMEMBER 

AND READ IT MANY TIMES TO MAKE SURE 

IT AIN'T GONNA BE A "ME",

THAT I WILL ALWAYS TURN TO THE LORD FOR 

HOW TO SERVE, HOW TO FOCUS.

 

HE'S THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD...

HE IS, AND HE BLESSES US.

I'M A GRATEFUL CHILD OF HIS!

ALL THINGS WORK TOGETHER...

WE BOTH WERE SERVERS BEFORE OUR MARRIAGE,

SEPARATELY.

THEN, IMMEDIATELY TOGETHER 

AND SERVING

THE LORD AND EACH OTHER.

WE OFTEN GO DIFFERENT DIRECTIONS,

BUT WE ALWAYS APPRECIATE EACH OTHER

AND GREATLY APPRECIATE THE LORD.

HE IS THE SAME.. HALLELUJAH!!

AND I ALWAYS LOVE TO SEE

THIS CROSS BUILT BY JAY

AND PLANTED AT THE

HOUSE OF HIS MOM,

SUSAN.

ALWAYS A BLESSING!

TO GO AND BE WITH JESUS

ME, TOO!!

THE ANNIE PROJECT...BEGINS

                                  

                                     CHAPTER ONE

“Guys, would you please watch out?  You nearly banged the curio cabinet against the door jamb.”

“Oh, Mom, don’t worry so much,” Mike laughed.  “Everything’s going to be all right.”

Cary turned away from watching her son, grandson and some others from church unload the truck and went into the kitchen to begin the process of emptying boxes and filling shelves and drawers.

“I’m sure glad the former owners left the kitchen clean,” Cary thought.  “It will make moving in so much easier.”

In about an hour the van was empty, boxes and furniture were in the rooms they belonged in, and everyone had left, except Cary’s daughter.  Cary and Sue continued working in the kitchen.  Although they were working together pretty well, they bickered a bit over some of the small details, such as which cupboard should hold the glasses and where the spices should go. However, even when they fussed with each other, they ended up laughing.

Around mid-afternoon Sue finally said, “I’ve got to go, Mom. Lee’s been home with the kids all day and the baby should be waking up from his nap.  Believe me, Lee needs me.  But I’m glad it worked out that I could come help you.  Really am!”

Cary gave her daughter a quick hug and peck on the check.  “Thanks, Dear.  It made a big difference.  I can finish this pretty easily now.”

Sue grabbed her purse and headed out the front door.  Cary stood in the doorway and looked at the living room.  The furniture was arranged in the place where she wanted it.  The boxes of books were near the built-in bookshelves. One major reason she had chosen this house was the amount of shelves it had for her hundreds of books.

Tears filled her eyes, though, as, one more time, she faced the fact that this was her house, but without her husband.  The funeral details and the move had taken up most of her idle time.  She had grieved his death, of course, but the everyday tasks of life had kept her occupied.  She hadn’t had much time, yet, to just “sit and feel,” as grief counselors encourage after a loss.  She was pleased that her children had also suggested she buy this house that was only a few minutes away from them. They could help her adjust as she made a fresh start.

“Dear God, thank you for this house.  Thank you for my children and grandchildren.  And thank you that James loved you and is living with you now.  Please help me find my new life road without him at my side.”

Cary went to the kitchen to wash a few dishes.  As she stood at the sink with her hands in the hot, soapy water, she saw a girl run out of the house next door, slam the screendoor, and run towards the carport at the back of the yard.  A tall, dark-haired woman followed her out of the door, but stopped at the back steps, and screamed at the girl.  Through the window, Cary heard only bits and pieces of words, but the fury made her flinch.  The words and the actions brought back childhood scenes that she’d hoped never to revisit.  In fact, she had managed to avoid those types of situations for nearly forty years.

“Is this why you sent me to this house, Lord?  To face some of my own fears?  To bless this family?  You are a healer and redeemer, Father, I know that.  Please pour your health and redemption into both my house and their house.”

Cary stopped washing dishes and went into the living room.  Books had always comforted her, and her heart was hurting and confused.  She decided to put a few away.  The “few” turned out to be several boxes of them as she sorted, alphabetized, read some favorite passages, glanced at illustrations.  Suddenly, she glanced at the window and saw it was nearly dark.

Taking a soda from the fridge, she stepped out onto the back porch to watch the sunset.  The sky blazed forth with bright pinks, magenta, and streaks of yellow.  As she sat at the patio table and watched, the darkness enfolded color after color.

Back inside, Cary finished dishes, grabbed an apple from the counter, and went to her bedroom.  Her son had put the bed together and the dresser was in place.  Sue had made the bed.  In the master bath, basic toiletries were set up.  All she had to do was take a shower and go to bed.  Even though it was still fairly early in the evening, and Cary was usually a night owl, she was exhausted from both the physical move and the emotional turmoil.  She climbed into an old pair of pajamas.  A favorite book had been planted next to her bed earlier, obviously by her daughter, so Cary could unwind with something familiar.  She munched on the apple.  After a few minutes, her eyes started drooping.  She set the book aside, dropped the apple core into the wastebasket next to her bed, shut the light out, and pulled the covers up under her chin.

As she did so, a few tears slid out of her eyes and dripped onto the pillow.  “It’s OK,” she thought to herself, “It’ll be OK.”  And she drifted off to sleep.

===========================

This IS Chapter 1.  You will now know why Cary becomes so excited, pleased, nervous, scared ... and trusts the Lord.

Truly counts re: growing more and more in the Lord and trusting Him to bring everything together.

I YEARN FOR HIM!

AMEN!

LAND, HEAR HIM!

A LAND ANYWHERE AND EVERYWHERE.

THAT'S ALL THAT COUNTS.

IT MUST HEAR THE LORD

AND MUST POUR THE WORD UPON US

FROM ITSELF, IF AT ALL POSSIBLE.

THAT'S WHAT I COUNT ON.

 

PRAISE AND THANKS TO OUR HOST...

NOT ONLY HUMANS AND OTHER PHYSICALLY CREATED BEINGS TRUST AND WORSHIP AND THANK THE LORD, 

BUT ALSO THINGS CREATED BY OUR PRESENT-DAY ARTISTIC MEMBERS OF THE WORLD

 ARE WORSHIPING THE LORD.

DONCHA THINK?? 

HEAVENS ARE HIGHER; HE IS, TOO!

THAT'S WHAT I COUNT ON!

MINE AIN'T PERFECT; HIS ARE.

HOW KIND OUR LORD WAS...

WE'RE BLESSED.

THEY'RE BLESSED.

ALL THE MEMBERS OF CREATION.

HEAVEN AND EARTH PRAISE..

SINGING FOR JOY...

BEASTS OF THE FIELD...

AND THE WATER WAS RIGHT BY THE DRY AREA

AND THE BIRDS WERE REALLY HAPPY!

=================
Dave and I were just leaving Uganda after our first visit in late February, 1991.  We ended up in the Nairobi area for a couple days.  Our plane should have left immediately, but the Gulf War had just finished.   Strangely, when in mid-January leaving home, a significant portion of the war messed us up in New York City and London.  We arrived in Uganda later than anticipated by at least 3 days.   Then, those weeks later, while leaving Uganda, the warfare event had the same effect.  So many flights around the world were messing things up.  And, amazingly, we were blessed.  While we were spending a couple days in Nairobi a missionary organization took care of us, and one of the main guys drove us around and about at the Nairobi National Park.  It was so filled with some many of our favorite animals and birds.  AND the Word the Lord dropped onto me recently could be fit into these photos.

What a treat THEN...and many treats afterward when in Uganda, Costa Rica, Morocco and the U.S. ... to take photos of animals and wonderful people.

HE SPLIT OPEN THE ROCKS..

OUT OF DARKNESS. HALLELUJAH!

HIS GOODNESS IS WHAT I COUNT ON

FOREVER AND EVER.

I'M VERY GRATEFUL!!

OBEY HIM!

BE STRONG THROUGH HIM

AND I HOPE THEY HAVE COME TO KNOW THE

STRENGTH AND LOVE OF THE LORD

THOROUGHLY.

ABSOLUTELY THOROUGHLY!

[I MADE THEM LAUGH; THEY MADE ME LAUGH!]

 

DARKNESS TO LIGHT

AND HE DID BRING ME OUT OF THE

HORRIFIC DARKNESS OF MY LIFE,

AND POURED HIS LIGHT UPON ME.

I SEE HIS GOODNESS,

MOMENT-BY-MOMENT,

DAY-BY-DAY.

HE DOES GIVE MORE STRENGTH

IT WAS A BLESSING TO SPEND SOME TIME

AT PT. DEFIANCE PARK

WITH NIKI AND PATTI.

FUN TO SEE NIKI CLIMB.

I COULDN'T HAVE.

AND HERE'S NIKI AND PATTI, 

RIGHT BEFORE NIKI CLIMBED:

[AND THIS IS ONLY TWO OF MY SISTERS;

I HAVE FIVE.

I'M OLDEST TWO-MONTHS SHY OF FIVE YEARS;

NIKI AND PATTI WERE NEXT.

TERI, BETTY, AND KRISTAN AFTER THAT.

I MISS AND LOVE ALL MY SISTERS.

THEY ALL LIVE IN THE NW. 

I'M ABOUT 1800 MILES AWAY

TRULY WANT TO SEE THEM AS OFTEN AS POSSIBLE.]

MIGHTIER THAN BREAKERS...

DAYS FILLED WITH BLESSINGS!!

MET SO MANY LOVELY PEOPLE,

FROM THERE OR EUROPE OR HERE.

AND I TRULY MISS BEING THERE.

I LOVED MOROCCO.

[AND OUR LORD TRULY IS THE BREAKER!]

.

MY GOOD BUDDY, ROY.

This grabbed my heart again.  At a First Responders situation on Thursday was connected to the stabbing murder of a "homeless" man who was staying in apartments built by mostly Catholic churches.  The leader has been in charge of much of this for about a dozen years.  Lots on his plate.  I also met his good friend, Bob, and we prayed over him, too.  And this struck many very sorrowfully in spite of the fact that the people are poor and come and go.

My "Roy" story is filled with the same.  As soon as we were praying for Larry, who was murdered Thursday morning this week, I thought deeply about Roy's murder about 33 years ago.  So need to share it again, around and about.
 

I wrote this in 1983, about 2 years after the murder. 
========================================
When the church hall phone rang on December 17, 1981, and it was for me, I was irritated. The women's fellowship group was running a little later than usual, and I was positive it was my husband calling to tell me to get home and put the kids to bed. As I walked toward the phone, I was thinking of a variety of retorts to toss at him.

It was my husband, but the message was entirely different than anything I had assumed. "Frankie just called from the Mission," he said. "There's been a fight and Roy was killed." A few seconds later, in a state of shock, I hung up the phone and began to cry. It was so hard to believe. I suddenly became convinced Lowell had heard wrong. After all, he hadn't met Roy, and was never very good with names.

I called the Mission. My friend, Alex, answered the phone. He was kind, but very matter-of-fact. "Yes, Joanne, it was Roy ... he was stabbed ... he is dead ... Ernie did it." At that point, I heard myself nearly screaming, "Ernie? Not Ernie! He LIKED Roy." After I hung up, I walked back to the fellowship group, stunned.

My friends prayed and cried with me. They reminded me that, since Roy had turned his life over to God, he was Home. Mentally, I agreed with them, but that didn't take away the ache in my heart.

It was unreal. It made no sense. Roy had struggled with the knotty question of God's claim on his life. He was proud of being Norwegian, proud of being Lutheran -- and totally impatient with anyone who crossed the invisible boundaries he had established. When someone inadvertently stumbled across the lines, he received the full brunt of Roy's ire. "Who does that odd ball think he is, telling me I need to change?" And then he would bellow and stomp around like a wounded bull while others scattered.

I met Roy in June, 1981. Through a series of events, a couple years earlier, I was asked to teach a weekly class to the men at this downtown street Mission. Although the residents were not as transient as the men on the street, there was a large turnover, and it was sometimes difficult to establish a trusting, solid relationship.

Roy and I became friends quickly. One August morning when it was very hot in the chapel, Roy stopped me after class. "Next week it'll be cooler, Girlie. Someone gave us this old air-conditioner and I'm fixing it."

In September, nearly blinded by cataracts, he was going to the VA Hospital for eye surgery. When I offered to visit him, he said he'd like that, so the Sunday after the operation I went to see him. He "adopted" me that day. I wasn't much older than his daughters, and he wasn't many years younger than my dad, so the arrangement was comfortable.

The anticipated stay of two weeks in the hospital, stretched into two months. Doctors discovered a spot on his lung. It threw him into a state of depression. His self-confident facade began to crack. For three weeks he waited for his eye to heal sufficiently to undergo lung surgery. During that three weeks, he talked to the Hospital chaplain often. The chaplain's initial inroad into Roy's life was based on the fact that he, too, was a Norwegian Lutheran. Roy listened to him, without the usual barriers, and liked what he heard. Before the operation was performed, Roy made his peace with God. He knew he might not survive the operation, or its diagnosis, but he was prepared.

Happily, although his lung was cancerous, the malignancy was confined to the lower portion, which was then removed. He came through beautifully. After two weeks of recuperation, he was released from the hospital. The other cataract was to be removed after Christmas. In the meantime, he had new teeth, one good eye, a repaired lung, and a "new" heart.

He still had moments of cantankerous behavior, but his changed life was definitely evident. He wasn't so quick to "con" the men in authority over him at the Mission or condemn those who had ideas that differed from his.

On December 5th, I was having a difficult time deciding what to use for the basis of our class discussion. A magazine came in the mail that morning and contained an article about the Believer's expectations after death. I decided to talk about death, using testimonies of after-life experiences and scripture. It was the first time Roy had been to class since late September, and I was a little disappointed when he took a seat in the back of the chapel instead of the front row, as he had always done. The men listened, and a few of them seemed a little nervous as the subject hit too close to home.

When class was over, Roy came up and hugged me. He flashed a big smile to show his new teeth, and said, "I sat in back because it's a different kind of chair. It doesn't hurt my incision." Then he said, "Little One, I wanted to tell them it's OK. You come to Jesus and you don't have to be afraid to die. It's going to be all right."

A few days later, in the Mission dining room during a drunken rage, his best friend, Ernie, grabbed a 16-inch carving knife out of the kitchen and stabbed Roy in the side. Within minutes he was dead.

The next few days were filled with contrasting activities. Parties, shopping, a funeral, joy of the Christmas season, sorrow for the loss of a friend. I couldn't understand "why", but somehow peace began to emerge and the knowledge that God is in control became a settled conviction once more.

Life goes on. Being a Christian, I trust that God's Word will not return void, that Roy's death was not in vain.

Ernie is in prison. He did not know at the time that he had killed Roy; he was drunk and does not remember it at all. He was, of course, arrested immediately and woke up in jail, not even knowing why he was there.

So far, he is still rejecting Christ, although he seems to be far less cocky, far less defensive, than before. Sometimes he calls me and asks me to come visit him, because no one else will. We have become friends -- a status I couldn't have imagined before the murder, and most certainly not when it occurred.

Most of the time, I don't think about the event on that cold December night. When I do, I often smile. My imagination carries me to a time when I, too, will enter heaven's gates. I fully expect a tall, burly Norwegian with a big smile to hug me and say, "Hello, Little One. Welcome Home."

[Regarding Ernie, I was involved with him for about 3-1/2 years.  He was released from prison after serving for only about 3 years.  He came out of prison when I was living in Oklahoma, having moved down from Omaha in '82, and he continued to write me.  Then, he disappeared from my life, too. He was refusing to hear more about the Lord. However, I truly hope he came to the Lord and he and Roy became friends again.]

 

HE IS GREAT!!

AMEN!!