PSALM 119

I find it interesting how my Scripture reading has been readjusting over the past 18 months. Almost always since I came to Him in April, 1966, the Lord has indicated where and what I was to read, but rarely re-reading the same Books over and over. However, shortly after I began blogging, Luke was a book He had me read about 13 times, all in different translations, from KJV to Amplified to Living.

The end of last October, He laid Revelation on me and didn't take it out of my reading path for 6 months, 'til this past Easter. I read it at least once a week, usually once every 4 days. Always Amplified. So, about 35 times in that six months. [A side Word added to this was John 17.]

For about the first 18 years with the Lord, I wasn't interested in Psalms. Usually buried in historical and prophetic OT. However, in the past 27 years, I've read the Book of Psalms over and over, especially when life was filled with tension or strife or overwhelming seriosity and the Psalms were a safe place to hang out. However, I rarely did more than rush through Ps. 119. Found it boring, too repetitive.

Now life has changed... again. A couple weeks ago, He led me to read that Psalm. And prodded me to do it every day. So far as I know, it is going to be my Word-reading stretch through October.

It has become amazing. Something I never would have imagined could happen. I've begun to not just read it, but pray to Him through the Psalm. For myself, my husband, my family, my friends. All as a verse or a heart-opening occurs. Reminding Him that my children and grandchildren have had much Word-seed planted in their hearts and that the healthy fruit could spring to the surface, that [for all of us] less-than-godly behaviors could be reversed.

For me: that my heart will yearn -- YEARN -- for Him and His path for me, that I'd never want to take a side-route or a side-step and somehow lose His immediate will for my life.

During the next month, I'm hoping that more and more of His message to me [and mine] will be enlarged, that I will always focus on Him and not on the everyday stuff that keeps trying to interfere with my walk with Him.

I most certainly won't have it memorized, but I will have it "heartized"...which is happening already. Now, when I finish the reading/praying time with it, and start to clean rooms, do dishes and laundry, and putz around in and outside of the house, my heart continues to seek and speak, with Him in mind.

What can be more joyful and thrilling than that?????

FIRST RESPONDERS -- DEJUAN AND ETIENNE

A rough weekend; 3 injured, 2 killed.

19-year old Dejuan was killed about a mile from our house. The killer [25-year old man] was captured immediately while hiding in an apartment across the street from the shooting. This evening we spent time with the family, praying and holding them -- a whole pile of FR-ers. A church was next to the murder site and a number of their members came to let the family know they would pay for the funeral and support the family any way possible. I was able to hug and pray for his mom, Teresa. We blessed each other, kissing cheeks.


NOW, the other one. This one was a heartbreaker. It was a few miles from our house and I've been in that neighborhood 2 other times this year after killings, always guys in late teens who were shot while walking down the streets, no particular reason.

Etienne was 14-years old. The killer has not been found. When I heard about it I was both spiritually and physically furious... as a grandma with three 14-year old grandchildren, this really slapped me.

Many family members and friends were there, many FRs, and a few policemen. I actually saw a policeman touch a child, showing real concern and sympathy, another standing to the side, but looking prayerful and caring. They are not usually allowed to even consider doing these "caring" bits; they are just allowed to focus on protection ... It is obvious that Etienne touched their hearts, too.

While we were praying over the family, one of the leaders grabbed my hand and pulled me away and told me I needed to pray for a girl; she was Etienne's 12-year old sister. She was standing at the end of a car and I popped next to her and put my arm around her shoulders and cuddled her. She was teary, but I'd say even more that she was ANGRY and ready to scream. Her grandma arrived and stood by her. Then a young cousin-- a little girl about 6 years old -- ran past me to the other side of grandma and grabbed her. The girls began crying ... sobbing. A couple of other ladies came to pray for them, too, and we all just held hands and shared love. [Before I left, I asked if I could take a photo of Brooklynn so I could look at it and remember to pray for her.]

I also was able to hold Etienne's dad's neck and just tell him how much he is on our hearts. He happens to be about the same age as my son who has one of my g-kids that fits into this situation.

Sometimes I wish I could be posting "sweetness and light" bits, and it does occur, but most of the time, especially in the past few months, I'm buried in seriosity. Maybe some day ...

DREAM #2

I mentioned earlier when I posted about a dream, that I would describe another life-changing one. Since then, life has become very busy and challenging; these past few weeks have been buried in Bhutanese [and other] events. Before I fill in some of the gaps about what's been going on, I'm going to tell about the dream.

It really, truly changed my life. Here's the story.
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On Labor Day weekend, 2003, Dave and I went to the Cincinnati area to visit friends we had met at the orphanage in Uganda when we were there for our son Sam's wedding in September, '99. Mark was the construction manager. Kim was a "variety" lady and we spent good time laughing. The four of us got along well and always wished we could have more time together, either there or here.

At their home in Ohio, we discussed the fact that the LRA [Lord's Resistance Army], led by Joseph Kony, which was usually in the NW portion of Uganda, had invaded a more central district in June. The main town in that area, Soroti, had been overwhelmed with people fleeing from villages and "bush" areas... the town went from about 50,000 to 130,000 in a very short time, bursting -- not enough water, food, latrines -- not enough of anything.

That evening together, hashing about all the Soroti info, four of us sharing what we knew and had heard, all of us said that we would be willing to send money over to help, but no desire or ability to go to the Soroti area. Dave had his job, Mark was working, Kim was deeply involved with a variety of family needs ... and I had absolutely no desire ever to go to Soroti ... ever, ever, ever.

Labor Day night, after our return from Ohio, I had a dream.

In it, I was walking through a place that was very crowded. Dave was walking behind me, but I didn’t see him, just knew he was there. Suddenly, I was standing by a big garbage dumpster. It was filled to the top, and even overflowing a bit. And, on top of the garbage was a gray cat, sprawled on its back. It was scroungy and the fur was all matted and filthy. It appeared to be dead. However, as I was watching it, its eyes opened and it looked at me very intensely and I felt absolutely overwhelmed with the need to care for this cat. As I figured out exactly what I should do, I was saying over my shoulder to Dave, "I’m sorry to have to do this, because I know you are allergic to cats, but I do have to help it." Then I found a very large towel and carefully wrapped the cat in it so that it would not be able to scratch and bite me as it was feeling pain. My intent was to take it to a vet, since I’m not a medical person. Right after wrapping it, the dream ended.

The next day Dave and I talked about this and wondered if the Lord was asking us to step back into a ministry we had done for years. It had worn us out, in every aspect, and we had stopped. We agreed that if the Lord wanted us to receive it back into our lives, we would do it. We thoroughly see that He is the "Caller" and we are the "Followers".

The NEXT day, I turned on my computer, pulled up the emails, and read a report from our orphanage contact in Uganda, and my emotions kicked in and were exactly what I had felt in my dream. During that day, I emailed my Uganda contacts, found out the airline costs, asked my local friends what they thought about it. I didn't tell Dave. He was at work at the Base and I didn't want to lay this on his plate when he was doing his job.

By the time Dave had come home, I was convinced I was supposed to go to Uganda and help in Soroti any way the Lord asked. Period.

Dave was outside painting our house and I went out and told him that, related to this dream, I was convinced that I was supposed to go to Soroti. Within 10 seconds Dave, knowing that I would never have wanted to, said, "If this is what you believe, get prayer, get ready, and go." It was 2 months before all the details were worked out. I left on November 12.

The challenges? 1) I would be gone 3 months. Dave and I would be separated for 2-1/2 months, a real heart-breaker -- he hoped to come the last 2 weeks, and visit our dear ones and bring me home. 2) Not knowing when or where or how God was going to use me, but knowing it was the right place to go. 3) Not knowing if I would die while in a war zone; consequently, we had our wills updated. When he took me to the airport, we held each other for as long as possible, both on the verge of crying, moment by moment.

I've posted a number of events that occurred over there, people I met who changed my life, people whose lives I changed by being at the right place at the right time. When Dave arrived on January 30th, I was recovering from malaria, had been sleep deprived, malnourished, dehydrated, and was thoroughly exhausted. He definitely had to take care of me.

We returned on February 12, '04. It took months for me to recover from PTS, physically and emotionally nearly destroyed. BUT never once ever wondering if this was the right thing to do or the right place to go.

And, NO, I don't rush into dreams and I very rarely assume they are a message from the Lord. But once in a while...just once in a while... it happens. It has always been worth it.

[The links have the photos of a few of the people I met and stories that fit into this amazing experience.]

WINTER, 1979, MIRACULOUS CAR EVENT

This morning I was reading one of my long-time-owned spiritually-oriented books, written in 1959, called The Blood of Jesus. The author, Rev. Whyte tells a few stories of how pleading the Blood of Jesus has brought sudden safety, healing, and spiritual understanding. I've read this book off and on over the past 35 years, whenever the Lord lays it on my "reading" plate.

I read [for the many-eth time] one of his stories of driving in snow on a country road outside of Toronto, and how both he and his wife, in separate cars, filled with youth on their way home from a retreat, were blown off the highway. Individually, as their cars were out of control, they immediately called upon the Lord, asking for protection by Him through the Blood of Jesus. Miraculously, they were all uninjured, and cars not damaged. Entirely safe.

It reminded me -- again -- of what happened to me all those years back. It doesn't simply use this same focus, such as the Blood, but it sure was an immediate touch through the power of the Lord.
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I had not been driving many years at that time... either no cars or no reason to use one. However, I had begun to be a realtor in May, 1978, so that non-driving phase of life changed for me. In early 1979, I was in a bank helping some buyers apply for their loan. While there, an ice-storm hit outside. When I left, about 5:30, my car was thoroughly covered with a blanket of ice. It took me about half an hour to chip off enough ice to open the door and see through bits of the windows.

About 6, I got onto the road to head for home, which was about 10 miles away. Today, that area across from the bank is a busy part of Omaha, a 4-lane street with houses all around it. Back then, it was just a plain 2-lane road and very few houses and no street lights. Well, I was driving along, carefully, on the ice-covered road; there was no one in front or behind me. After about 2 miles, the car suddenly and instantly "swooshed" from the lane I was in across to the other lane. I was shocked and very frightened, because that change happened without anything connected to my driving style. Since the road was covered with ice, I knew I couldn’t turn the steering wheel at all without being absolutely certain sure that would throw me off the road. I couldn't hit the brakes, for risk of spinning out of control and hitting one of the roadside ditches. I could see the glare of headlights reflected off the hilly stretch of road ahead and knew there were cars coming at me and knew there could be very bad, if not deadly, accidents.

I immediately, frantically, started to pray. First, I said "Angels. Lord, send angels." Nothing happened. A couple seconds later I said, "Jesus, help me, Jesus." Again, nothing happened. For a very short time, I kept frantically praying in my heart. Suddenly my mouth opened and I shouted – very, very loudly – "Satan, in the name of Jesus, take your hand off my steering wheel!"

My car immediately swooshed back into the lane where it belonged. I hadn't touched anything. The car moved all by itself. Within seconds the other cars started to pass by in the other lane where I had been.

I had no more problems, and I reached home about 20 minutes later, although, because of the ice, I continued to move slowly and carefully, just as I had been doing before the ‘swooshing’ had occurred. When I pulled into our driveway, my body was still trembling and I was shaking my head from the miracle I had just been through.

I never wonder whether God can step in to protect me. He did it then, and He has done it so many other times over the years as I’ve driven all over the States, hundreds of thousands of miles. I have been in some very tense or dangerous situations, and I have come through those events with joy and appreciation roaring in my heart and out of my mouth, because of His faithfulness to me.

UGANDA MONEY MIRACLE

If I could put a photo on this, in any way, I most certainly would. It's another one of those "only God" stories.

In December, 1995, Dave and I were worried, trying to figure out how we could return to the States as necessary in April, 1996. We were nearly out of money other than the basic living costs. Our credit cards were maxed out, savings gone. We had a few people who had been donating for our ministry needs, but we had become overwhelmed by the expenses. We weren't being extravagant, but between those basic needs and taking care of folks God had dropped in our path, we were hitting the wall. One main plan was to sell our household items, including a generator, computer, VCR, TV, and Dave's music equipment and piles of music tapes. We needed about $2,000, which would provide just enough to fly home.

In early December, we were meeting one of our main friends, Fr. Albert, for dinner in Kampala. I was in town before Dave and Fr. A. arrived and was in the Sheraton Hotel hanging out and waiting for them. A Ugandan was playing Christmas carols on an old piano in the very hot, sunny registration/reception center -- definitely didn't feel like our normal Christmas. A man was sitting on a couch, and, less than bright on my side, I assumed that, because he had my skin color he spoke my usual English. So, being me, my yammery personality, I made a comment about the heat and songs. Well, I was WRONG! He was Italian, could speak French, and indicated with that "so-so" hand motion, he could do some English. I said I could speak French. However, after we tried to communicate, he said my French wasn't good enough, so we'd have to try to make it in his English. Worked OK. We did talk for about half an hour. He said he was a cotton import/exporter and had been purchasing cotton from around Jinja, 60 miles away. He was waiting for a taxi to take him to the airport, and it was running late. In that next stretch, he asked what Dave and I did, and when I talked about being at the orphanage, he was very touched. He said he didn't believe in God and he was mad at church, but his wife would truly want to see that location when they came back to Uganda the following month.

In early January, I went to the hotel and met Paolo in the lounge and he told me his wife hadn't come because she'd had a ski accident in the Alps [they lived in Milan], and that he wouldn't take the time to go to the orphanage. BUT, then he handed me an envelope, and said, "This is for you. It is a small amount... oh, just a small amount... only a thousand dollars."

My brain exploded. " A thousand American dollars, Ugandan shillings, Italian lira? ...Was he confused?" I started to open the envelope, and he stopped me and said that I could see it later, that first we should talk. A few minutes later, he asked me to come to the hotel for lunch the next day and to bring Dave so he could meet my husband. [Dave was at the orphanage and would be coming into Kampala the next morning.]

When I left, walking across the hotel garden towards the street, I opened the envelope. I was absolutely stunned. There were 10... brand new... $100 bills.

Walking through downtown Kampala, the money buried in my backpack, I carried it across my chest instead of on my back, with my arms crossed over it. No one could slice the straps and sneak it away from me, a common theft manner. Uh, UH!!

That $1000, plus what we sold, provided exactly what we needed to get back home. If the Lord had not dropped Paolo into our lives, I have no idea what else would have occurred to give us enough money to get back to Omaha.

I have hoped that, through Paolo blessing us so amazingly, God dropped strongly into HIS life. I truly hope to see him in heaven.

EARTHQUAKE, 1965

For some strange reason, when my spiritual brother Gary at Long Island, NY, FB'd re: the earthquake on the east coast, I suddenly realized that even with several earthquakes I've been involved in on the 3 West coast states, 1948 to 1974 -- I "saw" the one that blew my mind.

Here's the story.

I was 19 years old, living and working in Seattle. It was almost exactly 8:30 AM. During the spreading of the earthquake tremors, rumbles, and roars, I was on a cable car on my way to work downtown, and a few blocks from the office building. I was reading a book, Tom Jones, and not looking around at all. Then the bouncing of the cable car got my attention, and annoyed, I thought, LOUDLY, as I began to look up, "What is that driver doing??" Then I saw that he had stopped driving, was in big-eyed panic, and as I looked around I could see the street bouncing, business windows waving and weaving, people running down the middle of the street, and skyscrapers swaying back and forth, crisscrossing each other. The final result, besides piles of damage, three people were killed by falling debris; others died from heart attacks. It was one scary stretch of time, believe me.


The only funny bit? My friend/coworker Connie was being dropped off by her boyfriend in front of the building, and he was giving her a kiss goodbye, exactly when the earthquake hit. He said, "WOW, that was one exciting kiss. "


Later, my boss let me call my parents in Tacoma -- I knew Mom was terrified of earthquakes, and I was afraid she'd have jumped out of the upstairs bedroom window from a fear reaction. My Dad said he and Mom had done OK. Then he told me that my 6-year old sister, Kristan, who was sitting cross-legged on the living room floor while watching cartoons when it hit, froze in her position and started screaming. When Dad got to her to get her out of the house, and picked her up, her back against his chest, she remained in a stiff, sitting, cross-legged, screaming body as he carried her out.


Lived through a few smallish ones in California from 1969 to 1974 in the Bay Area. Got "rattled", pictures bouncing, dishes sliding, etc., but nothing, NOTHING anywhere similar to that one in 1965.

DREAMS

Maybe because I have a brain that operates on full-speed most of the time, the Lord drops an occasional dream into my sleep-time, because He needs to get a point across or give me an instruction. Doesn't happen often with straight-forward results. Just sometimes.

On Sunday, our Pastor's sermon included the comment that dreams weren't a part of our usual spiritual life. And, I have to agree with that, in general. But there are the occasional ones ....

This one hit about 30 years ago. You ought to get a good chuckle out of it.

In my dream, my teeth were being broken out and my jaw pulled. [I really -- REALLY -- don't like to have my mouth messed with, so this was very intense and unnerving.] I woke up, big eyed, and glad I was awake, and after breathing heavily for a few seconds, I settled down. WELL, a few days later I had the same dream with my jaw-bone being broken and yanked out... And then again a few days later.

When I woke up I was hollering, "WHAT is going ON???" And, surprisingly, the Lord spoke very clearly to my heart: "Getting you to change is like pulling teeth."

Well, I decided I better check in with Him and find out what I wasn't doing that He wanted me to. After that, any time I started to have that dream, I would immediately say, "OK, Lord, what am I supposed to do?" I haven't had one of those dreams for a very long time. Hope it means He can get to me more easily.

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In a while I will share about the other main dream. Through it, the Lord sent me to Uganda in 2003 for 3 months, after the Soroti area had been invaded by the Kony rebels and He wanted me there for very specific reasons. If He hadn't done it, I wouldn't have gone there, I'm quite certain sure. Soroti was pretty close to the bottom of my "willing to go" list, as much as I love Uganda. And to leave my husband for months? Risk my life by entering a war zone? But it was the right thing to do.