GAVE INFO TO A FRIEND RE: MULTNOMAH FALLS

     From about 4:45 until about 6:00, I was at a First Responders, which was in a portion of our town re: a murder boy who was 16, and several of us were there to pray for the family and friends.  Unusually, when we got there there were dozens and dozens of people.  I talked to a couple of them and one was a pastor for him and another was a teacher at the high school.  Many, many, many were crying and enjoyed us worshiping and praying for them and hugging and holding them.  Anyhow, now that I'm home I'm trying to put a bit on here.  
     WELL, I had a young friend/"son" drive me home and he'd been here in the Omaha area since he was a kid.  Through First Responders I'd become to know him in about 6 years.  So, since he'd been raised in this area for most of his life ... he's about 42 ...  just last summer he'd been flown to  Portland, Oregon, and he'd also been taken to Multnomah Falls and Mount Hood.  SO, I asked him to come into my house and I could show him some of the photos re: those that I'd been at.  He was here for a few minutes to go to his place, and I dropped a few so he'd smile.  He DID, and he wants to come some other time so he can see more and more of the Multnomah Falls and the Pacific Ocean and portions of Seattle and more of the Columbia River.  So, here's a few of those photos and I'll have to eat dinner and spent time with my husband. 
      So, this is what I've loved even when I was a kid back in the 1950s and several times until 2016.  Love the mountains, love the rivers, and the ocean, and Multnomah Falls, and have many family and friends there, even though I haven't lived there for about 47 years.  Show a bit of what I can.

Multnomah Falls

Mount Rainier

Mount Hood

FIRST RESPONDERS PRAYER TIME...EVEN ICY AREA!

        Last night we were at a murder site in the eastern portion of Omaha.  No surprise to me.  Several years ago the Lord had me walk in a variety of those areas and praying and looking at the homes and dealing with what the Lord told me to do, where to go.  I've also driven for about 5 years through those areas, also.  NOW, since legally I can't drive anything b/c of the increase of dementia, it breaks my heart a bit.
        Anyhow, when we were told that a man had been murdered, a couple days later we were at that location.  It was snowy and icy all around the street, and very cold.  My husband took me, since I couldn't drive, and he stayed there and prayed and encouraged. [Dave and I have, usually, other God-jobs so we are rarely hitting the road together.  Now he's doing it any time if at all possible at the murder situations.  That's a blessing to me!]
        The amazing piece jumped at us.  When Dave and I got there... a little more than 3 miles from our house... we were among the earliest who had arrived, and so shocked and surprised to see a bunch of guys that walked into the house where the man had died.  It was a broken house for a length of time and he was, according to the news, someone who walked in our town without a place to stay, so the police/news people had said he had just popped in. 

Well, we heard things a bit differently shortly after there. We discovered that the guys were from a strong and special place in Omaha called Open Door Mission.  When one of their leaders spoke to us and said that Derek, who was 55 when murdered, was with their group and had been moving around sometimes to see people who didn't have homes, and he had been in this empty place and had lead some to the Lord.  He had prayed for some of the men.  Anyhow, we don't who and/or why, but he was murdered. The only good thing we know joyfully is that he is in Heaven.
        There was a stretch of time when about a dozen of the Open Door Mission guys had come from that part of town and about a dozen of us... First Responders people... even though the road was icy and hard to walk on ... we stood on a snowy side at a yard portion of another broken home.  Then, after some sharing from them, a couple of our main pastors who are leaders, told the guys to get in the center so we could lay our hands on them when the praying was being done. And to encourage them, even though this situation had confused and confused them.  We saw some tears.   I had a couple right in front of me and I put my arms around them. 

Joshua on the left.  In my heart!!

         When I was putting my arms around, Dave held my 2 canes and held my back so I couldn't fall.  THEN when the time was finished, I grabbed the guy/kid I'd been touching... think he's in his 20s ... and I asked his name.  He said he is Joshua.  So, since I'm reading the portion of the Bible right now, I told him I'd be praying for him.  And I have been!  Won't ever see him again I'm sure, but just lifting to the Lord. 
        When leaving, Dave and I were blessed and encouraged by a few people. 
        Anyhow, last night was cold and sorrowful in a lot of ways.... but the Lord broke into a lot of us and a lot of others in a kind way that night.  Usually, we pray for families, etc., when someone has been murdered.  However, we don't know much of anything about Derek's history, but we expect that he will know family and friends when he's in Heaven. 

GOD BENDS DOWN! WE ARE BLESSED THROUGH THAT!

     That's what we can count on, forever and ever.  Touching and praying and encouraging is all we can do in our lifetime.  And heading to Heaven is a wonderful spiritual understanding piece!  It is Christmas time, and filled with wonderfulness, moment-by-moment -- either in, the last 31 years, Omaha usually, or at a Christmas stretch-of-days at Minnesota several times for my "sister"/ friend, Susan in the Clearbrook area and to the Twin Cities at Dave's family.  Also,  were in Uganda three Christmas times ['94, '95, 2003].  It's all a blessing. 
      BUT, anywhere, and here or there, serving the Lord is all that counts!  He's had me reading, recently, all the Prophets, a bit of Psalms, Revelation, and, now, John -- will finish that on Saturday.  Thinking of our Heavenly Father and Jesus when everything I'm reading.  On my heart momentarily, even today.

AND, BTW, this photo was taken when we were praying for a family mom or aunt of the teenage boy who had been murdered.  Just happened to work out that I was the official pray-er that day when the prayer shawl was placed.  That was about three years ago. It was a very cold time, but no snow right then, so driving to that part of town... way southeast... was possible.  Many were prayed over by several who were blessing them!!  OH, and I don't know when and/or how I can be at First Responders at the murder sites ... which I've done for 7-1/2 years, unless I'm out of town to the NW or Minnesota area usually ... and I can't drive any more.  It's been at a hospital here when I was being tested about 10 days ago, immediately said I could not drive a car.  I've been crying a LOT since then, but worshiping and praying and glorifying the Lord.  All that counts is HIM, forever and ever!!  Now I'll shut up!!

THE GOD OF PEACE...

This was taken by me to my feet when I was at First Responders at a murder site several months ago.  When standing right by a tree, I was told that my feet were where the murdered man had hit the ground right there.  We were praying for the nearby homes...none were connected to this murder, but his body hit their yard...and some people came by who had thought who the man was.  Anyhow, the Word of God grabbed me that time when I saw the photo.

About 15 years ago, my husband, Dave, had written a song, There is No Counsel/Underneath Your Feet.  After Proverbs 21:30, Psalm 2:2-4, II Corinthians 10:4, then this verse of Romans 16:20 was used:

 The God of peace, living through us, is crushing him,

 underneath our feet...

The God of peace is crushing Satan underneath our feet.

In the dust and broken laying underneath our feet,

 nevermore to rise again from underneath our feet....

The God of peace is crushing Satan underneath our feet.

Underneath our feet:

 underneath, underneath, underneath our feet!

We've played it many times in the past years and people sang and sang and rejoiced!!  Years ago Dave's favorite portion of the Bible is Romans 16:20.  I agree with that wonderfulness!!  Every day I think of it. 

BTW, trusting the Lord is all I can ever do, and focusing on Him from now to Heaven and then, when I'm there, I'll certainly continually focus on Him forever and ever.  Nothing else counts!  I can hardly wait!!

 

FIRST RESPONDERS AGAIN! HEAVY SIGH, HEAVY SIGN!

    A fairly young man, Garion, 19 years old, when pulling into his house area a couple days ago, gang groups shot him, and, about an hour later he died.  Today, when several of us showed up at the house area, his grandma, mom, aunt, sisters, nieces, nephews, and piles of other friends indicated that he had been at a church and now was in heaven with the Lord.

    His aunt, who showed up immediately, stepped forward first, and she

hugged one of our guys who had been her doctor.  I had no idea that this fellow had been a doctor.  They hugged and hugged.  And in the past year I've tried to make sure I have tissue pieces to pass around when they are crying and tears and flowing down.  Shared with several today.  And, at the end of the prayer time and getting ready to leave them so they could be filled with family situation, the lady hugged me and cried onto my shoulder and I was able to hug her and pray for her. 
    I was planning to be heading home, and, when walking up the street to our car area, a long-time First Responder "brother", Dean, about a year older than me, walked up with me and held my hand that didn't have my cane, and he made sure I wouldn't fall on those terrible sidewalks.  I've wanted Dean to come to our house many times, so that he would meet Dave.  Dean lives in a completely different part of Omaha, and I haven't seen him for several months, because he can't drive all this way.  Anyhow, he is a treat!  
    On the news tonight, since a couple of the main ones were there, I hope to see how it was shared.  And, as the family said, Garion is in heaven.  That's what we can rejoice upon.  And he isn't the first one we've been with at these murder sites that were Christians.  I hope to meet them when I'm in heaven, too.  We also hope that the ones who have done the murdering, and end up in prison, that they may turn to the Lord, too.  Our Lord is all we can ever count on, forever and ever.

   

MY NEWEST BIRTH AND OLDEST BIRTHDAY

    This ain't perfect, but since I'm turning 70 right now, and my body and brain ain't working as well, I just thought I'd toss some pieces around and about.  Sorry if this is too crazy!  

Love many, many, many of you.

 ===========================

     On July 9th I am 70 years old.  Want to share the wonderfulness of how the Lord kept me alive in many ways.  When people say that, in our present-day healthiness, I should plan to be on the earth until I'm 80 or 90 at least.  Well, I would have died through beatings, murders, suicide, or ruined heart issues.  The Lord has healed and protected me many times.

    I was born in Portland, Oregon.  I discovered when I was 17 that my parents were not married when I was born.  Mom, very angry at Dad, when I was about a month from graduation in Klickitat, WA, in 1963, she told me that they had married when I was 3 years old.  After her death, a few years ago, one of my sisters and one of my nieces had gone through more of Mom's pieces and discovered it wasn't when I was 3 that they married.  I was about 1-1/2 years old.  Too much of their situation to tell to any of you.  Even though it is quite normal and acceptable in our present-day world, it sure wasn't when I was a kid! I'm extremely relieved that Dad and Mom came to the Lord... my Dad when he was 59 and died when he was 65 in 1984, and my Mom when she was 80 and died at 90-1/2 in 2011.  I look forward to seeing them in heaven!!
     Because of the fighting that was going on ... Mom and Dad fought each other and others fought them through neighborhood ... I was filled with danger.  I was molested, beaten, and became a fighter when I was 5 years old.  Dad taught me how to fight just as I was turning from 4 to 5

right then.   When near July 4th, shortly before my 5th birthday, I'd been hurt by a 7 year old boy.  As I say, Dad taught me how to fight, and, when the boy walked by me I hit him, and he ran away from fear.  So, I became a strong fighter and did it anytime necessary for me or my family.
    When I was in school, from grade school to high school, even though I heard the Words of the Lord when principles and teachers could talk about the Bible, I truly knew it was right, but I continued to keep my sinful life strongly.  AND I felt guilty, because I knew what I was doing was against the truthfulness of the Lord.
  

      I was working in Seattle when I was 18 and 19, and filled with extreme sinfulness, and was heading to suicide. Amazingly I was moved to Tacoma when I was just turning 20, and was with my Dad, Mom, and sisters.  A few months later, in an apartment, I was drawn to a Baptist church through a new friend, and I went and knew the truthful portions, and, 3 weeks later, I decided to truly accept the Lord on April 15, 1966.  Life began to change for me.
     The Lord has used me to do some very unusual things for approximately 46 years.  In the process, when dealing with very serious and dangerous situations through family connections or towns, He has healed my heart.  My heart was healed when I was 27 & 28, 38 & 39, 42.  I'm extremely grateful!  At those times it had nothing to do with the doctors, but only in houses or churches when suddenly He encouraged me and touched me.

     When I was going to Soriti, Uganda, in November, 2003, and staying until January, 2004, my husband and I, as we knew the Lord had called me to go there, we both thought and were concerned that I could easily be dead over there.  I was gone for 2-1/2 months before Dave could come,

because of his job situation.  One of the miracles was that I, during the last week in Soroti, had been invited to by 5 pastors to go to a very wide group of people outside of town which was in a serious place where the people were forced to live when having run away from their places to avoid the Lord's Resistance Army.  When asked by those pastors to go there, and I planned to do it, another pastor took me to the side and suggested that I not go, because he expected to have to call Dave and tell him that I was dead and ask how to send my body to him in Omaha or have him come to Soroti. Well, since Pastor Joseph said that so strongly, I did not go.  Found out a day later that, even though no one had died, the situations had been very serious, and, if someone from out of their nation had arrived, it [me] could have been much worse.  When Dave came to Uganda 2 weeks later, at the end of January, I had malaria and PTS.  Malaria was handled OK through doctors; no big deal.  The PTS lasted for approximately 4 months.  When flying back home together a couple weeks after he arrived, it took me quite a while to become thoroughly healthy.  I was 58 back then.  Oh, and re: a lot of the situation in Soroti, even though the book is fictional/non-fictional [mostly NON-fictional re: Soroti!] it has now been published. 

     Sorry to yammer so long, but: being in Uganda several times; Costa Rica twice; Morocco for a prayer time with piles of people from our nation Europe and northern Africa; First Responders in Omaha where many of us go to murder sites to pray for family and friends connected to the death; and helping the Bhutanese from Nepal here in Omaha where I was placed into them surprisingly about 5 years ago and have about 200 Bhutanese "family and friends".  In spite of everything, I'm very grateful. The Lord has sent me around and about and taken care of me.  [Much of this was with Dave, too, especially Uganda and the Bhutanese. He's a wonderful pianist, organist, a home "fixer", computer-fixer.  He's a blessing to others and he's been a wonderful blessing to me!]
     Now, even with my stumbling and my dementia increasing very strongly,  the Lord tells me to drive around our city and other local towns and pray for the wonderful situations or demonic situations, and worship very strongly thankfully to the Lord.  In our large world or any very small homes, He is all that counts.  And He is all I can count on.
     I'm very grateful for how the Lord protected me, healed me, used me, and has let me worship and glorify Him, moment-by-moment.
     Thank you for putting up with me, my dear family and friends.

 ===================================

Dave and I just arrived home 4 days ago from Washington and Oregon area after being gone from Omaha for 2 weeks.  This is the two of us with Mt. Adams in behind us, and the fire was extreme that day.  However, in spite of that situation, we were filled with smiling and rejoicing, because friends we happened to be staying with had driven us around the Klickitat area.

Oh, and I was in Klickitat when 5-7 and 15-17.  

1st grade there, then mostly in Tacoma from 2nd to 9th grade. It was a blessing to be in Klickitat for high school 

and that I graduated there.

A main miracle for me to be there is because

I have wonderful friends that I met there

when very young, teenaged, and now very old!

And, since I was a young kid in Tacoma, WA, this has been my favorite mountain, Mount Rainier,  to see. 

 I rejoiced this time again.

CRUSHING SATAN...

     MANY OF US HAVE DONE THIS AROUND AND ABOUT OUR WORLD AND IN OUR CITIES.  IN THIS CASE, OUR GROUP CALLED FIRST RESPONDERS, FREQUENTLY ATTENDED A DAY OR SO AFTER MURDERS HAVE OCCURRED.  WHEN WE ARRIVE WE PRAY FOR THE FAMILY AND FRIENDS AND THE NEARBY YARDS AND THE STREETS.  THE SATANIC PORTIONS IN QUITE A NUMBER OF PLACES HAVE BEEN REMOVED, ONE WAY OR ANOTHER.

     WHEN THIS PICTURE WAS TAKEN, IT WAS MY FEET, BUT WHICH I DIDN'T KNOW IMMEDIATELY, IT WAS EXACTLY WHERE THE MURDERED MAN'S BODY HAD HIT THIS YARD AND I  WAS TOLD, BY THE POLICE, IT WAS RIGHT WHERE I WAS STANDING. 

SATAN WILL NOT BE IN HEAVEN.  HALLELUJAH!!!

[BTW, MY HUSBAND WROTE A WONDERFUL SONG BASED ON THIS VERSE OF ROMANS 16:20. I LOVED BEING ONE OF HIS PLAYERS AND I SURE LIKE TO LISTEN, EVEN NOW, AFTER NEARLY 10 YEARS SINCE HE DID A DVD PORTION WITH ABOUT A DOZEN OF THE SONGS.  WHAT A TREAT!]

OUR HEAVENLY FATHER LISTENS...

TRUSTING HIM IS WHAT WORKS FOR 

ALL PEOPLE WHO PRAY.

WE OFTEN PRAY WHEN MEETING TOGETHER 

AT MURDER SITES.

OUR HEAVENLY FATHER TOUCHES

MANY, MANY OF THE SORROWFUL FAMILIES

AS WE PRAY THROUGH OUR HEARTS.

HE IS A BLESSING, AN ENCOURAGER,

TO THEM AND TO US. 


 

MURDER FILLED WITH PRAYER AND PEACE AND SORROWFULNESS!

     Last Friday evening this entered my life significantly.  The murder had occurred quite a distant way from our home.  My husband went with me for the site, and, instead of consistently calling it a First Responders event, it was led by a very spiritual lady who wanted people to come and pray for the family and friends and called her event "A Hand to  Hold".

      It's a good thing that Dave drove me over there.  It was to begin at 8 on a hilly area, and I thought there might be many people and to park the car might be too challenging for me.  We arrived about 25 minutes earlier, and that was a good thing.  There were already a couple dozen people, and could park the car.  During another stretch, there were approximately 200 people and they had parked blocks away, up and down the hills.  

    Immediately, we saw a few of us connected to First Responders.  I saw a couple wonderful friends that were too busy with other ministry working points they could hardly ever come to our murder sites.  It was a blessing to see Brenda, in particular.  And she became a blessing for Dave and I again, as I'll indicate a bit later on this info.
     OK.  A mother, about 45, was murdered.  She had been stabbed.  One of her sons, who was 5, had been missing.  Another young son, about 1, was tossed into a green dumpster.  Amazingly, he was found early the next day.  
     When the mother's family and friends officially arrived, they were a bit later than anticipated.  They were expected to be there at 8.  They came a short time after 9.  The difference was that the darkness had stepped in solidly.  For the 200-ish of us to walk down from the central portion to where she had been tossed onto a side-place when she was dead.  
      I took a few photos on this portion of the people who arrived before dark. There were many who were Mexican and interpreters were a blessing when prayers and explanations were done. 

Add caption

One of the hugest blessings for me was when Dave and I were walking with all the others towards the death site location and I thought I'd never be able to get to the front portion and hear and see exactly what had taken place.  Then, suddenly, our friend Brenda, reached to Dave, and pulling him, and him pulling me, we were broken through to the front.  She was a leader that evening, and, because she knew we had prayer shawls, I'm sure that's why she grabbed us. 

     When I was suddenly in the front line, I looked a couple feet ahead, and surprisingly suddenly saw one of the ladies who was standing by the flowers and other deathly gifts, and had a couple people holding her arms and praying for her.  I immediately realized she was the sister of the one who was murdered and she had arrived very quickly from Texas when told about the murder.  I was suddenly able to hold the sister. The other 2 quietly left her with me and went to other situations re: the family.  So, I held her and prayed over her and she held me and cried and cried on my shoulder and my neck.  I held her for about 15 minutes and then, when topic came up, I and someone else placed a prayer shawl on her and the prayers were wonderful.  Even though I couldn't officially meet her then, because of what was going on, I truly hope I will meet her through some other way.
      Also was able to take a photo of the little boy who had

been tossed into the green dumpster. So, I'll toss a few of the photos. This was one of the most events that the Lord laid on me. 
      Today, it was informed that the 5-year old boy, who they had been looking for in a river a few miles west of that portion of Omaha, called the Elkhorn River, for about 3 days, they found his body on the side of the river today.  The sorrowness is for the family, of course.  BUT in my heart I've heard for these 3 days that this son was in heaven with his mom.
     The saddest portion is that Mom's son who is 25, murdered her, and turned himself on Saturday.  His girlfriend was also arrested and in jail for now.  She was involved in some way, but the information isn't perfect yet.
=============================================
     I just returned home now from another murder site in another part of Omaha.  We prayed for family and saw many children who were connected to the man who was murdered early Sunday morning.  He had a 6 year old son and a 2-month old son.  Now I'm home, very tired and filled with sorrow for what they've gone through.  It was a windy, chilly afternoon, early evening.
      Bless you and yours, whenever and wherever you are serving our Lord.

 

LIFTING UP HEARTS AND HANDS... FOREVER!

IT WAS ONE OF THE FIRST, BUT ONE OF THE SADDEST,

AS I BECAME FULLY FILLED WITH THE MINISTRY

CALLED FIRST RESPONDERS.

WE PRAY, WE TURN TO THE LORD,

WE LIFT OUR ARMS AND GIVE OUR HEARTS.

IT'S DEFINITELY MY GOD-JOB.

 

DREAMINESS

I've read Joel so many times over the years, even when a young 'un... only in my 20s, I guess.  I could usually fit right into the verse that is so famous.  Here it is:

Joel 2:28

 And afterward I will pour out My Spirit upon all flesh, and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams, your young men shall see visions.

Well, when I was younger this made sense.  Whether I'd ever understood or not, I was a bit prophetic from the beginning and it has increased and continued for many, many years.  I've seen much in my spiritual eyes and heart with what is going around and about our world, both good and evil.

I've had very few visions, but have definitely had words, such as "Go NOW!!!"  For instance, connected to when, 4-1/3 years ago, the Lord sent me up our street and dropped the Bhutanese into my life that day, and I would never have known that was going to occur.  Just thought I was supposed to go up  through our portion of the town and do prayer

Dad and Mom are the first I met.

walking.  I did THAT, but at the beginning and the end of that day, a Bhutanese couple was dropped in, and now I have about 200 of them instead of 2.  That truly was a God-word, and I obeyed.

My present-day wonder is re: old men is the "dream dreams" issue.  I ain't an old man.  I'm becoming an old lady.  And, every night, the whole hours I'm in bed, I have dreams. If I wake up to hit the bathroom or my brain is  intense, I go back to sleep quickly and other dreams begin.   I'm going around and about the world, helping people,

sharing important Words, having godly fun, seeing some locals and some spiritually long-time connections.  When I wake up, within a couple minutes I forget well enough to explain or share with my husband or anyone else.  I CAN keep pictures in my head, but can't come up with the words. 

So, when I read this Joel piece recently it significantly grabbed me again.

I don't expect any of you to tell me about the "age" thing or the "man" thing, but all I know to do is serve the Lord.  I have to regular God-jobs now.  The Bhutanese and First Responders when we go to murder sites a day or so after that event.  [In fact, that's where I'm going today.  A

16-year old boy was murdered yesterday, and we will be there to pray for the families, the neighbors, and friends.  We'll also pray for the murderer's family b/c, often, their hearts are broken, too.  Will be there in about an hour; don't have a photo of it now, obviously.] 

Can only worship and praise so the hearts will be entered by our Lord.

I'm tired during the day -- VERY tired -- and live in a different world all night.  All I can hope for will be heaven.  And I ain't a man.  Oh, well... God is BIGGER!!!

FIRST RESPONDER... SAD AS USUAL

Just a standard photo to share, over and over again.

Did it again.  Today.  Brokenhearted again.  Fewer official murders so far this year, but it happens around and about, again and again.  Next month it will be my 6th year "anniversary" of doing this God-job.  Yes, it's sorrowful, but, yes, it's one of my strongest ministry issues.  Won't stop til there ain't no way I can physically get around and about.

This was a bit different.  He had no family there. None of the neighbors that seemed to be very nearby, didn't enter our group.  One fellow, Steve, that did come, had been his friend for years and was connected to the church of one of our F.R. pastor leaders, so came.  

While we were beginning to share info and pray, I glanced a couple houses down the street and saw a guy standing on the driveway, but a tree didn't make him extremely clear.  I decided I would go over and meet him and explain to him what we were doing.

His name is Johnny and he was very nice.  And very heartbroken, and would not go to our group, partly because he was afraid of what he would do in front of everyone, and I assume he would be crying.  He did say we could pray for him, but he wouldn't be there.  

So this is what he told me.  Last Saturday night, while his friend, across the street, near midnight, was stepping to his door, and two cars were driving around and shooting at each other.  Consequentially, Eugene was shot.  Johnny, hearing the shots, and heading out of his house, saw Eugene hit the ground.  In spite of the cars, one of which had shot HIS car [I saw where the bullet went in], he called the police, ran across the street, and held Eugene, trying to keep him talking.  Eugene died as getting to the hospital.

Eugene was a Christian.  He is in heaven.  Johnny and Eugene had been friends for 35 years, since Johnny was 10 years old, Eugene was 16.  How unusual is that?  Johnny was willing to be prayed for, but he said he doesn't go to church.

Much prayer was done for the neighborhood, for any possible family of Eugene's, and prayed over and over that the enemy can be defeated.  That's a significant goal that we focus on.  That general portion of town is the most dangerous, and has been since this city was "created" about 160 years ago.  With my spiritually historic job I do, I can point out many of the locations to be more careful for those who live there or work there.

Now, I'm home.  Now at rest.  But my heart is big on Johnny.  Eugene is in heaven; Johnny needs to prep more significantly to get there.  

One of my serious God-jobs, whether hot or cold outside.  But there.

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.]