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!!

 

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. 

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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.
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     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.

 

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. 
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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.]

 

FIRST RESPONDERS -- PAYTON, 5-YEARS-OLD, ACCIDENTALLY MURDERED

On Wednesday, January 15, gang members were fighting, driving around and about, and shooting.  Suddenly, when Payton was eating breakfast with the rest of her family, a bullet came through the window and hit her.  Her mom rushed out to take her to a hospital, but bullets had flattened her car's tires, too.  Couldn't go anywhere quickly enough.  Ambulance and police arrived.  But just a few minutes later, Payton died.

The first murder in Omaha of 2014 turned out to be a 5-year-old pretty little girl.

Thursday, from 5:00 to 6:00, nearly 200 people were not far from her home, and praying, sharing, turning around and about to the Lord, over and over again. Some were First Responders.  Some were obviously family and friends, or neighbors.   It was a very, very windy [50 mph], and cold time.  Usually, our First Responders murder-site group would be much smaller, including family and friends. This time many had come. What a blessing!

Our mayor came.  She has arrived at First Responders before or sent someone to represent her.  Well, she didn't send anyone else this time.  She came, she spoke.  She's a strong Christian, so her heart reaches out to so many who are in any need.

Other leaders and general people were there, including me, and we all left about 6:00.

It was too dark and windy for me to take a photo of the stuffed animals, candles, and other gifts piled in front of the house across the street.  I decided that on Thursday morning, I would drive over there and do it.  So, in the morning, I was sitting at my desk, thinking that I'd go fairly soon, maybe a little in the afternoon, and suddenly I felt the Lord tap me and tell me to "go now".  So, shortly before noon, even though I hadn't finished drinking my tea, and reading some FB messages, I quickly left.  Payton's home is only about a mile from where I live.

I parked on the street very near the house.  I went to the pile of stuffed animals, and candles, and balloons, and everything else, and I straightened some pieces that had been blown around a bit.  I took several photos.

Shortly thereafter,  I saw a car stop across the street.  Two men got out and came to me and asked me what I was doing.  Turned out they were from  KMTV.  For several minutes they talked to me, asked me questions about me, and interviewed me re: First Responders.  When I was leaving I was told I would be on their news at 6:00.  I was pretty surprised.  All I could think was that the Lord had sent me there right then for this reason.

When the news hit, and family and friends and fund raising was part of the couple minutes, I suddenly was about 3 seconds right in the middle of it.  What a surprise!  I can't pull up the news to show you, but this is what I said:

"...so we can pray for the neighbors, so we can pray for the family. We can walk around the neighborhood and try to turn people's hearts in the right direction."

The memorial service is next Thursday.  I truly hope the Lord can break through more and more of the broken hearts.  All I can count on... all WE can ever count on... is our Heavenly Father.  AND, as on one of my posts about Payton on Thursday, this is the only joyful portion:

THE ONLY GOOD THING, AT THE MOMENT, IS KNOWING PAYTON IS IN HEAVEN, NO PAIN, NO SORROW, SEEING FAMILY AND FRIENDS, HOLDING HANDS WITH ANGELS AND WITH JESUS.

FIRST RESPONDERS -- SORROWFUL AND JOYFUL

When the murder hit the news on Friday, I was heartbroken.  That's not unusual, of course, since I've been involved in First Responders, and know that the next important appointment will be at the murder site.  But this time, since it took place only approximately 3-1/2 blocks from my house, it really hit my heart strongly.

I was quite relieved that the FR time would be on Saturday afternoon at 4:00.  Would be MUCH warmer than if done on Sunday... 50s on Saturday, 10s on Sunday.  Because of the warmth, more of us would come, more family and friends of Tristan would come out, For the first time, I walked down the street.  A good way to make it; a sad reason to make it.

When I arrived, a few minutes early, and saw the front of the
house, I took a photo.  According to the news info, that shot was made after Tristan's murder.  The murderers had gone up the steps and shot through the door.  He was on the couch, and the bullets hit him, killed him.  THEN, when driving around and about afterwards, laughing loudly, they shot more and more bullets at the house.  That's when the window was hit.

The amazingness hit right before we started praying and connecting.  I met his dad, Carl, and he said that Tristan was a Christian, and is in heaven.  Carl told me how happy he is to know that his son, even though murdered, will be in heaven, waiting for him and other family and friends.

During the prayer time, the main leader began.  When Bruce finished, and said the next person could continue, Carl immediately jumped in, prayed over and for his son, and worshiped the Lord.  His pastor arrived and prayed.  One of our main prayer leaders in town, Barb, prayed [heard on TV report].  A couple others.  And I prayed.  My prayer was basically explaining the sorrowful that hit me about the murder, and the joyousness in my heart now because Tristan is in heaven.

I actually spent a few minutes with Carl.  I also was touched much by watching the family and friends.  We would see them crying.  I always try to keep some tissues in my pockets to pass along when at one of the FR situations.  Well, did it then, too.  Helped about 3 of the family.  One of my biggest blessings was that I was next to Carl when we  were praying over and around the family and friends, so I was able to lay my hands on him.

Carl, his wife, and a niece

A couple hours later, after our FR ending, in the early evening, I went to the house again.  I wanted to leave our name, address, phone number so Carl and his wife could get in touch easily.  Have invited them to visit.  When I walked to the front door, I was shocked.  The storm door showed the metal sides... but all the glass was gone and I needed to just step over the metal.  Inside, one of the tallest, nicest fellows I met that day, Jerry, his dear friend, greeted me and showed appreciation.  Carl came out of a room when one of the folks knocked and said a lady was to see him, he was very nice to me.  I was able to give him the info.  The only funny moment was when he said we [him and I and the group] are all family.  And I know we smiled a bit because I was the only white person.  I'm looking forward to time with him and his others.  [AND the house was Tristan's; Carl and his wife live about 1/2 mile away.]

Again, this was one of the saddest and most glorious murder sites.  He's not the only Christian who had been murdered.  In the 5-1/2 years I've been involved, a few of those murdered were killed through a gang situation... sometimes they had left it and were aimed to death by their "friends" and, a couple times, murdered because someone drove by and shot at the house and someone just happened to be there.  One thing we've sometimes agreed on is that it's better for Christians to be murdered than these others who wouldn't have a chance to turn to the Lord.

So that, hopefully, will open hearts.  Mine truly is.

JULIUS DIED... FIRST RESPONDERS

Today we went arrived at a very busy portion of Omaha -- for info to you who know Omaha, it was at 23rd and Vinton.  While driving in and out of the neighborhood, I remembered being up on the main street nearby a couple years ago when a murder had taken place.  Hard so often when we're looking around and about the town and are passing murder sites.  Makes my heart shudder with sorrow.

Today a number of people connected to Julius arrived.  Family, friends, people who had been encouraging him to leave the gang and grow in the Lord.  They'd helped him prepare for a job,  gave him wisdom.  And a number of us simply connected to First Responders and his family and friends came.

The prayer time was amazing.  Filled with blessings.  Oh, and a few of the police that arrived to keep a safe eye on us, which is their standard now, got out of the cars and came to our circles and prayed with us.  That happens occasionally and is a real blessing.  Partly, because the groups who have lost a member don't trust the police, and after these prayer times it begins to enter their hearts that they can trust the police.

A couple had left already.

At the end, I had a blessing.  I was able to get a couple of the prayer shawls out of my car and one was given to Julius's mother, but she was not with us, but the shawl would be taken to her by one of her family members.  The other shawl was given to

Julius's aunt, and she was with us, and I was asked to  "shawl" her and pray for her.  I handed my camera to a young fellow and just asked him to take a few.  He did.

 

So now you've see a number of photos of the carers, the prayers, the encouragers... and you've seen me.  

And I came home very tired, very cold, very physically/ mentally challenged... but filled with joy, because I know people were filled with the Lord, filled with peace.

PEACE WALK

Two ladies and pastor opening with prayer.

Went to a special event  only a couple miles from my house. It was referred to as Peace Walk and was drawn together by 2 ladies who had lost family members that were murdered -- mostly brothers or sisters. Overall, there were a  couple-hundred people who were at the park for this event. [BTW, I saw a few of us from First Responders, who also was Barbara, the left side on the photo, and her Pastor, Bruce, a good friend of mine and a great FR leader.]   Many of the people who had arrived were also family members of many people murdered. They carried posters, wore shirts with the photos on them, spoke more and more about their sorrow and serious circumstances.

One man I met, Racine, and spent some time with, who I'd

never seen before, really touched my heart. He was crying.  His daughter had been murdered while sleeping with her man in an apartment. Actually, they both were murdered in the middle of the night and the young family kids, Racine's grandkids, were the ones who discovered them in the morning. It was actually one of the most horrific First Responder events I had attended. I was heartbroken then. WELL, I was comforting Racine tonight; he was so heartbroken he was sobbing on the shoulder of a friend and I, who had just met him, had my hand on his arm.
 

After we talked, and his wife came by and gave him a yellow

rose, he gave it to me. I brought it home. And it has his daughter's bracelet that was passed around and about to everyone.  I actually met him after a kid had handed it to me and I had put it on my wrist, even though I didn't know for sure who she was.  NOW she'll be in my house forever.

 

 Oh, and Racine was singing a song to the Lord

the last time I saw him, the tears flowing down his cheeks. We truly connected. He told me where he lives, and, if I'm ever going through that neighborhood, not far from the park, I'll try to find him.  It was a heart-connecting few minutes. 

Another lady, Terry, whose son had been murdered in March, '08, 3 months before I became involved with FR, we talked momentarily and I took the photo of the poster. Terry told me where she goes to church, and I've definitely known many there for years. I was able to hold her and hug her and pray over her.  

 

This event was heavily on my heart. Heavily. Met so many new people, saw a few good friends, and definitely knew I was supposed to be there. When I left the house, climbed into my car, and started down the street, I felt the Lord touch me and prod me forward.  No questions asked, definitely. 

 

While the walk was taking place on one of our main streets, not long after rush hour, cars honked, people rejoiced, people waved.  

 

 

When I first saw Racine and his wife and a friend holding his daughter's large poster right by the street, I decided I wanted to take a picture.  WELL, to do that I had to back up to the middle of the two lanes on our side of the road.  Kept being sure the light was not green.  And was quite relieved when I got it done and got off the road in time.

 

 

So now....

 

 

 AMEN!!

FIRST RESPONDERS -- ANDREA

 As many of you know, for the past 5 years I have been involved with a ministry called First Responders.  We go to murder sites.  I've been to at least 100.  Couldn't go all the time... sick, a family/schedule issue, out of town... but usually couldn't NOT go.  One of God-jobs.

Some of the FR meetings have been very heart breaking,

I had met the girl who was murdered last year.

aching.  Young kids killed connected to gangs, others killed connected to drug dealing, others murdered by drive-arounders who was fussing with each other and killed someone just because they were frustrated and this person happened to be on a sidewalk or street.  Yes, I was very heart broken at times.

Then this one happened last week.  Andrea was murdered Wednesday morning.  She left her job at a lounge after midnight, headed home to her husband and 3 kids.  Somehow, on the way home, was gunned down, thrown on the highway.  Her car was taken away, and dumped off several miles away, actually not far from my house.

On Thursday, we met out at the murder site, very much out of our normal area.  I immediately met her grandparents and a cousin who came from Kansas City.  Later, I met the other grandmother and Andrea's mom. 

I saw the mom holding the little ones and helping them put flowers at the site.  Many, MANY family and friends arrived.  Much heartbreaking.

I'm in purple.

Towards the end of our prayers with and for and over the people, laying hands on all of Andrea's dear ones as we asked them to stand in the central area so we could surround them.  THEN, several men laid hands on Andrea's husband, prayed for him.  

 THEN, 4 of us ladies laid hands on the Mom and a Grandmom who were to be given prayer shawls.  They had been dropped into my house the day before, and when this God-job hit us, I couldn't NOT take shawls in case someone would be there.  Even though they would be very hot, we knew that the peace and comfort that was inside the shawls would enter the lives of the ones who were buried in sorrow.  That a real blessing.

When I left, I was still filled with sorrow.  I still am.  I'm not a normal crier, but it's happening over and over again on my heart.

BTW, Andrea's mom attended my daughter's church.  The funeral was today and hundreds were there.  I wanted to be, but instead, stayed home.  BUT they were on my heart all day, and will be for a LONG time.  And, of course, we want the ones who killed her to be caught, or have their heart struck so hard by guilt and truth that they will turn themselves in.

Sharing my heart with you.  Thank you.  

 

FIRST RESPONDERS -- SAD AFTERNOON

At 2:30 today we began a prayer and encouraging and blessing service outside of a social hall where a young man had been murdered near midnight of Friday.  He was dancing with friends.  Jacquez, 21, had just been accepted at the Marines and was leaving next Thursday morning.  Suddenly, someone came inside and began shooting, no one aimed at, but bullets hit 4 of them.  A 14-year old girl is in critical condition, 2 men showed up at the local hospital with less-than-serious condition.  But Jacquez died nearly immediately on the dance floor.

The First Responders time was filled with people from his family, his friends, and our ministry-caring people.  One of our main spiritually intense ladies, Teela, was called at 1:30 AM by Jacquez's aunt to tell her.

Teela spoke loudly and prayerfully at the FR time.  And she introduced the parents and others.


 
His dad spoke for a few minutes about him and about the family and the fatherhood and the caring.  

 

He said Jacquez was not in drugs, not a dealer, and not in a gang.  That dads need to put 200% in raising their boys.

Jacquez's mom didn't speak.  Sounded like her throat was hurting.  But we were asked to lay a prayer shawl on her.  She was hugged by a niece.  Touched by ladies surrounding her.  I was blessed to help place the shawl.  Couldn't NOT not take a picture.  

Had a wonderful time hugging her later as I was leaving and told her I would be sharing their story in our town, our nation, and around the world.  She was rejoicing, thanking me.

It was a very large group of people.

One blessing?  It wasn't nearly as cold as recently so we could breathe together.  Another?  Three police officers came.  We almost always have officers nearby in a car, but this time these men got out of the cars to stand with us, to show true heart-filled caring for the families.  It was a blessing for me to be able to thank them and touch them gratefully.  

ANOTHER?  Prayer topics are passed around by the leader, certain individuals asked to pray, fairly short prayer-times, not going on forever and ever.  After a few, the next one was for all the kids that were there, that they be placed in the center to be prayed over. I saw him glancing around and then, the leader, Dave, said, "Joanne." So, I laid my hands on a young girl next to me, my heart so heavy, I nearly crying, and I prayed for a minute that they would be covered with the Lord's protection, that they would grow in Him and that His light would help them be in the right place, right time.  I don't remember exactly what I said, but some of that; my emotions were pretty intense, to say the least. 

Was only there for an hour, but my heart is still filled with this event.  We prayed in front of the door where the murder had occurred.  AND this happened right across the street from an elementary school.  Lots has happened in that area many times in these past years; I'm not happy this happened, but I AM happy it didn't happen during the day and when kids were going to see it or hear the screaming, sorrowing.

[AND, just a moment ago, as I was finishing this, a bit of "us" were shown on the news.  They showed dad holding his photo up and talking and then our leader speaking of our purpose to be there ... to always let the families, friends, and neighbors know that we -- F.R. -- are with them and  they are not alone.]

So, now, going to spend a couple hours snuggling on the couch with my hubby watching one of our comedy movies.

Need it.

Need you.