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Kelly is one of my best friends. She is very supportive and always seems to bring out the positive aspects of life. She keeps herself and her children neatly dressed and well groomed. Kelly has one downfall though: her messy house. Kelly recently moved into a new home. I hadn’t seen her for awhile, so I decided to visit her. Upon entering the front door to Kelly’s home, I was shocked. I stopped in front of the doorway in utter disbelief at the disgusting filth heaped all around me. Right in front of me stood a two tiered glass coffee table which was probably about five feet long and three feet wide. The glass table top resembled a maze riddled with rubbish. There were numerous cups, some half full as condensation trickled downward. Others were tipped over and drops of unidentifiable liquids had now formed little pools of sticky messes on the glass table top. The previous night’s dinner dishes still remained and I could just see the spaghetti clinging to the sides of the bowls as abandoned meatballs shriveled up like dry prunes. The bottom layer of glass was even worse than the top. There were two small pink piles of A.B.C. gum and stained paper plates that had become attached to the filthy residue. I thought about offering to help Kelly clean up; however, the thought quickly vanished when I looked to my left.

On the left side of the room sat an ugly couch made with a tacky orange and brown plaid material. The right cushion had a large dark brown stain; consequently, one of the kids (so I assumed) had spilled a glass of what looked to be chocolate milk. A heap of laundry, complete with soiled socks, T-shirts, and underwear, had been tossed carelessly on the center cushion. There was a rather large jagged tear on the left cushion, and pieces of the stuffing were scattered across the couch and on the floor around it. As I stood there taking it all in, I almost burst into hysterical laughter, but that was before I saw the mirror above the couch. The immense mirror, once probably had a shiny surface, but now it looked like a child’s art canvas. It reflected smudges of tiny handprints and doodling done in crimson crayon. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to look any further, but the shelf caught my eye.

Next to the mirror was a shelf holding fragile worthless collector’s plates coated in a thick billow of dust. Of the three plates, the center one looked the worst. I’m sure the group of parallel scratches were caused by using it as a serving plate. The plate on the left had been glued together, but apparently Kelly had not been able to find the pie shaped wedge missing from the center. The plate on the right was a Christmas scene with Santa in his sleigh holding up a bottle of Coke. Of course, the entire shelf appeared cluttered with useless items. My curiosity finally propelled me to move from the front door, and I walked over for a closer examination. I smiled when I saw the mirrored sunglasses with black wire frames which I bought for Kelly five years ago. The shelf also contained a couple of Silver Hawks ticket stubs bent and yellowed, a pair of earrings (one without a back) and a golf ball. Kelly had recently purchased her cat “Marbles” a new collar; therefore, the old one, blue with rhinestones, hung over the edge of the shelf while the upper half rested on top of the golf ball. A few of the rhinestones were missing and a portion of the blue had faded and cracked. I knew the collar would never be used for anything else unless one of the kids perhaps put in on a doll’s neck.

Below the shelf sat an old plastic bushel basket. One handle was completely broke off while a mass quantity of duct tape held the other handle together. The toy bushel was filled with half clothed Barbie dolls, Monster trucks, Matchbox cars, and numerous action figures. To top it off, there was a wool winter cap and one rubber boot adding even more variety. I noticed that many more toys were strewed across the room; indeed, these must have been the children’s most popular toys. A variety of metamorhasizing power ninja people complete with a small arsenal of miniature guns and swords covered the floor. Among the toys lay tiny pieces of wadded paper. I pulled my eyes away from the display on the floor, and tried to observe the rest of the room.

Across the room, on the right, a colored television and V.C.R. were simply placed on a rickety table. The screen of the television was coated with sticky fingerprints. Kelly perhaps thought it was a fine place to keep every T.V. related item underneath the table. A Nintendo unit was covered by its own tangled web of control wires and a few games lay both in and out of the square plastic cases. next to the Nintendo, there were approximately twenty-five V.C.R. movies. They were stacked in two neat columns. These may have been the one investment Kelly actually took care of. I knew that she might never organize the rest of the house, but at least this one little area was preserved.

Although the house was a total disaster, Kelly managed to get the clothes and dishes washed during my visit. I took her new Hoover vacuum from the closet and started to help her clean. I picked up the toys, filling the bushel to capacity. Kelly is a very important person in my life, and I have accepted her for who she is. I grabbed the dust covered mirrored sunglasses and began cleaning them with a rag. As the shine returned, so did the special feeling that I have for Kelly.

“Faith is deliberate confidence in the character of God whose ways you may not understand at the time.~ Oswald Chambers chillingfaith4As I sit here in my cozy apartment I am grateful for the warmth and comfort that it brings me. However, the thought that just a few months ago I was wondering where I would be going or if I would even have a home, brings a chill over me. Not for myself, but for the less fortunate who don’t have a warm place to lay their head. With such cold temperatures over the past few days, (negative 19 at 5a.m.) I wonder what will happen to the unsheltered. I read an article in our local paper, back in December, about a man named Juan. I was merely appalled that the article was written about how the homeless were breaking into abandoned buildings and how unsafe this was for the city police. What about this man and the epidemic of homelessness? While it was reported that Juan went into the homeless shelter, that was full to maximum capacity, he was not walking in with the intentions of staying. All he wanted was a blanket. He was followed to an abandoned building and was asked about nothing more than his safety. Juan responded by saying, “It’s in God’s hands. The almighty take care of me.” as he pointed upward. Juan crawled into a wooden crate, that appeared to be coffin like, crossed his arms and went to sleep. I can’t even begin to fathom this man’s faith in God. His situation is grim, no food, no shelter, no clothes but what is on his back and yet he knows that his God will take care of him. The thought alone that this man has no place to call home burdens me. I’ve often thought that my faith is imperceptible and maybe it is.

Matthew 17:20 “You don’t have enough faith, “ Jesus told them. “I tell you the truth, if you had faith even as small as a mustard seed, you could say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it would move. Nothing would be impossible.

I remember a few years ago catching sight of a television show called “The Biggest Loser.” I typically don’t watch much television but for some reason this show captured my attention. In a nutshell, the show was about people trying to attain the most weight loss. The game started out with two groups of overweight people. They were weighed individually and then as a team. Each group was given a personal trainer to teach, encourage, support and push when the person didn’t feel as though they could continue. As people were being eliminated and the groups became smaller, the need for the teammates to start discouraging and slandering one another became apparent. They were becoming mean and jealous of one another. At times, someone would fall back into an old habit, but the trainer knew exactly what to give them to get back into the game. These people were there to achieve something that they were not able to do on their own. Ultimately, one person would win and become the “Biggest Loser.”

We must be careful who we allow into our own lives. Are they striving for you to become a winner or a loser? Are you constantly being criticized for things that you know that you could accomplish? Does this person believe in you? Are they encouraging you? Are they giving you the tools you need to win?

I have found in my own life to surround myself with people who believe in me and my abilities. Someone who will shout for me to keep going, to keep running the race, not to give up and believe that I can do it! Jesus, your very own personal trainer, is right next to you helping, encouraging and believing that YOU can finish what you have set out to do! When you fall, pick yourself up and start where you left off! Don’t stay in that place that will leave you feeling guilty and condemned. You can do it and you deserve to be “The Biggest Winner!”

Proverbs 12:25-26 Worry weighs a person down; an encouraging word cheers a person up. The godly give good advice to their friends; the wicked lead them astray.

Galatians 6:22-26 But the Holy Spirit produces this kind of fruit in our lives: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self control. There is no law against these things! Those who belong to Christ Jesus have nailed the passions and desires of their sinful nature to his cross and crucified them there. Since we are living by the Spirit, let us follow the Spirit’s leading in every part of our lives. Let us not become conceited, or provoke one another, or be jealous of one another.

Do I have relationship or is it just religion?
I can tell others about God but is there action in my living.
My mind tries to think but it seems it doesn’t work.
Cause without the breath of God I’m right back to the dirt.
He said in his word that without him I am nothing.
I’ve tried to live without him so I know that he ain’t bluffing.
He said son why do you try so hard to do these things without me?
The purpose of my creation was for you to tell about me.
How I loved the world and sent my only son.
When I said it is finished it meant my work was done!
It was again how I said it after the seventh day.
When my blood was shed at Calvary your price was fully paid.
I am the Alpha and Omega the beginning and the end.
I died to set you free from the bondage of your sin.
Walk with me my son grab my hand and hold it tight.
The darkness cannot harm you when your walking with the Light.
I said Father, why do I try so hard to walk this life alone?
He said you listened to the enemy, the seed of doubt was sown!
I said Lord what must I do to get where I need to be?
My son you cannot earn my love for the gift of it was free.
Remember in our relationship that faith is your key.
And when you find out who I am, then you’ll know who you’ll be!
Written by: Samuel E. Shock

My brother shared this with me this afternoon and I wanted to pass it along.  He is very talented in poetry and song lyrics.  I look forward to sharing more of his writing soon.

~For My Son~

My dear little boy so tall and bold

How I wish he wasn’t so cold

I remember the day you were placed on my lap

For my blue eyed son was not a mishap

We were both happy so filled with joy

It was you God placed in our lives, not a toy

We fed you, we clothed you and loved you so much

You gave us such a beautiful touch

But then one day things went bad

And life took away your dad

I am sorry son it didn’t work out

Please please don’t freak out

I really did try my best

I held you while you cried upon my chest

If I could take away the pain you feel

Let it be known it would be a done deal

Please son just know that the anger inside

Will only lead to despair and pride

I pray that God will give you rest

I know that one day you will be very blessed

For God knows what you need

And I know that one day you will surely lead

I love you my son

For you…life has just begun

Written: by Theresa

I held my little boy in my arms for the first time on July, 12, 1992. I took a deep breath and sighed. I was so relieved that this day had finally arrived. I looked down into his deep blue eyes as he stared blankly up at me. At that moment, I forgot all of the pain and suffering that I had gone through over the last eight months.

It was a chilly morning. I walked quickly to the door of my doctor’s office. I remember feeling a little queasy because of my nervousness and excitement. I stood in line and waited for the elevator doors to open. When the elevator arrived, I swallowed hard, got in and went up to the second floor. My mouth was dry, and I began to break out in a cold sweat. I knew that within a few minutes I would find out the results of my pregnancy test.

I slowly approached the front desk and signed in. I took off my coat, grabbed a magazine, and sat down. My eyes quickly focused across the room upon a mother holding her newborn baby. I instantly felt a pang of jealousy. Oh! How I longed to become a mother. I started to pray. ” Please God, allow me the opportunity to become a mother.” My prayer was abruptly interrupted when I heard the nurse call my name.

I stood up, grabbed my things, and followed the nurse down the hall to the examination room. The room was chilly, and what made it even colder was looking at all of the metal instruments on the table. The nurse performed the pregnancy test and told me that the doctor would be right in. I waited for about 10 minutes; it felt like an hour had gone by. Finally, the doctor entered the room. He took my hand, placed it into his, and replied with a smile, “Congratulations!” At that moment, my heart felt like it had skipped a couple of beats. I was excited, nervous, and scared. I looked up at my doctor and softly replied, “What now?”

My doctor’s grin diminished, and the expression on his face turned into a look of concern. I had previously undergone several miscarriages; therefore, he knew my next question. My eyes welled up with tears and I asked, “Will I be able to carry this baby?” His reply was a familiar one, “Theresa, there is a fifty-fifty chance.” His next statement gave me a tiny ray of hope. He told me that we were going to try something different this time.

Indeed the doctor’s orders were quite different. I was given a hormone called Progesterone, and I was instructed to stay in bed for the next three months. I immediately realized that this would be difficult for me since I am a very active person. He must have been able to see the look of concern that swept across my face. He leaned back against his chair and said, “I think that if we are able to get you through the first trimester, you will have a good chance of having this baby.” With tears streaming down my face, I smiled and replied, “I sure hope so.” I stood up, gathered my things, and walked out of the office. As I waited for the elevator this time, my body felt numb.

I’ll never forget that cold day. I walked out of the building wondering if I could handle the emotional pain of another miscarriage. I looked upward towards heaven, and this time I prayed, “God, I have to know if I am going to have this baby!” I heard a small voice inside my head say, “You will have a healthy baby, but there will be lots of complications.” I gently brought my mind back to reality, and told myself to quit being so ridiculous. I got into my car and drove home.

After arriving home, I changed into something comfortable, and crawled into bed. I concentrated on the importance of having a positive attitude. After all, I wouldn’t have to go to work, cook, or clean for three months. I didn’t mind doing these things, but I felt like it might be a nice little break. In less than a month, I realized that lying in bed was much harder than I had ever imagined. My body hurt all over from the lack of exercise; furthermore, I was terribly bored and lonely. I wanted to keep my positive attitude so I did a lot of reading and crocheting to keep my mind busy. By the end of the second month, I started having pre-mature labor. After another visit with the doctor, I was told that I must stay in bed for the rest of my pregnancy.

My third month began with my contractions being monitored twenty-four hours a day using a device that hooked up to my phone. I had to inject a medicine, called Tributiline, into my legs every two hours; however, this was very difficult for me because of my fear of needles. Although the needles were quite small, the act of sticking myself caused me to have a great deal of anxiety. This magic medicine was supposed to stop my contractions, but I continued having at least eight to ten an hour. The hospital became my second home. The doctors and nurses were very compassionate, yet they never gave me false hope. The prepared me for the worst by giving me a tour of the neonatal unit. I didn’t pay much attention to what they thought, because I knew in my heart that I was going to have this baby.

I laid in bed for the next four months, enduring every emotion one could imagine. I became very frustrated over the fact that my family had to do everything for me. I wanted to be able to take care of myself again. I was going crazy with boredom. I didn’t want to watch any more television, read any more books, or crochet another blanket. There were days when I felt angry, but had no way to ventilate my anger. However, I subdued the feeling by holding my stomach and singing to my unborn child.

It was a hot summer day. I hadn’t been able to sleep all night. The discomfort in my stomach became worse. I packed a little suitcase with all of my belongings that I would need for my hospital stay. I knew it was time!

Every time I look at my son, I am reminded of the miracle that God has blessed me with.
I just want to say hold tight the things that are dear to you. God is there and listening!


Faith draws the poison from every grief, takes the sting from every loss, and quenches the fire of every pain; and only faith can do it. -Josiah Gilbert Holland

As I was cleaning out my old house, I picked up a glass item that I was going to throw away. I dropped it and yes, as you can guess, it broke. I bent down to pick up the pieces but realized that I could not pick up everything. I collected all of the big pieces and put them into a pile. The smaller pieces had scattered everywhere. I knew that I would need something bigger to pick those pieces up. While gathering the broken glass, I thought about how broken my life is right now. I have had to move from my home, my security; not by choice but because of situations. I have gathered all of the big pieces, but the small ones need something bigger than me. I can only think of one greater…God. He is the only one that can clean up the splinters of broken pieces. I realized that I have to let him come through and sweep up the mess. I cannot do it alone.

Psalm 86:7 In the day of trouble I will call upon you, for you will answer me.