Looking up at the sky while holding her hand above her eyes to shade them, the sun warmly beats down on her long blonde hair that’s pulled back in a pony tail. She turns in a slow circle smiling brightly and suddenly stops.
Listening closely, she drops her hand and turns another half circle. “What? What is that I hear?” she whispers to herself.
A branch, with purple flowers and abundant leaves, softly sways as if dancing to unheard music. She watches, waits, and hears what she thinks could be music. Cocking her head she takes a step closer. Listening intently she takes another step closer.
“I do hear music!”
Listening more closely she takes another step and the music sounds a tiny bit louder. She can’t make out what the tune is but she senses that she’s heard it before. “Is it a bird?”
Afraid to get too close so as not to frighten what she has decided is some sort of song bird, she slowly sits down on the grass nearby. Softly she begins to hum with the tune. Scooting a bit closer, ever so quietly, she tries to see into the bush but the branches are too thick. Gradually she scoots closer and closer.
Hearing just snatches of the song, she hums along until the end of the song. Ever so cautiously she reaches into the bush. Her hand suddenly touches something. She jerks her hand back as she slams her other hand over her mouth to silence the scream that is about to erupt. Jumping to her knees in preparation to run for her life, she waits for her heart to slow.
After several moments she decides to try again. Sliding her hand slowly into the bush she whispers softly, “It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you.”
She slowly and cautiously feels around within the bush when suddenly her fingers feel the tip of something.
Sucking in a deep breath and whispering a quick prayer, she bravely snatches it and jerks it out of the bush.
“Got’cha!” She exclaims proudly.
Uncurling her fingers, she looks down at what she has grabbed. Surprise dances across her face. Bursting out laughing she plops down on the grass.
A small battery operated tape recorder begins playing, Amazing Grace how sweet the sound.
In 1994 The Lord led me to start a ministry, The Angel Ministry, that would offer hope, healing, and deliverance to women that had been sexually abused as children. I led support groups for fourteen years, not only in Georgia, but various other states. Also during that time, for four years, I published the Angels by Grace publication whereby all the articles was written by survivors and read across the United States.
In 2003 this ministry became Elah Ministries, Inc. a 501c3 non-profit. The Lord has used this ministry in many different ways, including helping me to write and publish nine fiction and non-fiction books, all to glorify our Lord. Not to mention the many, many lives He has touched through individual ministry.
It has been quite the journey to say the least. None of this would have happened without the Lord Jesus Christ. I give Him all praise, honor, and glory for what He has done through me, within me, and for me through being obedient to His call and for the lives He has touched.
As the old saying goes, “All good things come to an end.” But not necessarily. In my case He gives me a different direction and that’s what is happening now. I’m saying good-bye to a long, adventurous journey and entering a new season of ministry.
My church has created a new ministry called, INTO THE LIGHT. We have a home for women that have been rescued from sex traffic where through this transition they are offered a safe place to live, a safe place to heal, a safe place to get on their feet, grow close to the Lord, and walk with their heads held high.
Right now we are getting the home ready for them and in the near future we will have up to six women moving in. I can’t wait to meet them and to be a small part of what the Lord will be doing within these women. Its exciting to say the least.
Into the Light Home is supported by donations only.
If you would like to be a part of what the Lord is doing for these women through your donations, or partnering with us, – or for more information, go to:
In 1994 The Lord led me to start a ministry, The Angel Ministry, that would offer hope, healing, and deliverance to women that had been sexually abused as children. I led support groups for fourteen years, not only in Georgia, but various other states. Also during that time, for four years, I published The Angels by Grace publication whereby all articles was written by survivors and read across the United States.
In 2003 this ministry became Elah Ministries, Inc., a 501c3 non-profit. The Lord used this ministry in many different ways, including helping me to write and publish nine fiction and non-fiction books. They too offer hope, healing, and deliverance all to glorify our Lord.
It has been quite the journey to say the least. None of this would have happened without the Lord Jesus Christ. I give Him all praise, honor and glory.
Christmas is a time to reflect on the birth of Jesus Christ. The One who came and will come again. Growing up that wasn’t a priority in my home so my focus had always been on the gifts under the tree. What did Santa bring? Did he get the letter I wrote? What if I’m on the “naughty list,” will I not get anything?
Many years later I married a man who was raised in a Christian orphanage in the 1930’s. He described the orphanage as a big scary, ugly gray building, and there were a lot of kids. There were dorms filled with single beds. On one side of the building were the boys and on the other side of the building were the girls. He was four years old when his daddy left him abandoned in a hospital and he never saw him, or his family, again.
When Christmas rolled around, the many children would receive one gift each. Usually it was a small toy or a piece of clothing they needed. One bicycle was donated one year for all the boys to share. There was not funds for such an extravagant gift for each child. Toys were shared and outgrown clothes handed down.
His stories always brought tears to my eyes.
Even after all those years and now married I didn’t regard Christmas as holy but I wanted to make our first Christmas very special for my new husband. One day I suddenly felt very strongly that I wanted a manger scene. I’d seen many in stores, they were always touting Christ’s birth, so I bought one and as I took the pieces out of the box, I started to place the pieces on the glass topped table, only I didn’t know who went where.
My husband sat watching and could tell I didn’t know one piece from the other and quietly came over and knelt down beside me. “Oh Su-Su, look at this one of Joseph.” And he set it in its place. He did that with each piece, commenting about them and never condemning me or making fun because of my ignorance.
We bought a seven foot tree and with Christmas music playing we had fun decorating with all the silver tinsel, colorful balls, and lights. With great care he took the angel out of my hands and stepped onto the ladder. Carefully he positioned the angel on the top of the tree and then stood looking down at me grinning. He’d never been able to do that before. Tears flowed down my cheeks as I gazed up at him.
As I shopped for the gifts I wanted to place under the Christmas tree I would remember that one gift he would receive each Christmas at the orphanage during his 13 years of living there. I bought everything I could think of that I thought he could use or want.
While he was at work I would take a package of socks and wrap each pair separately. The same with new shorts, or a pair of tennis shoes, (one shoe in one box, the other in another) a sweat band he’d use for running, a screw driver. I had packages galore for this man I loved. I made a vow that he would have more gifts to open than Santa had in his big red bag. He would never be deprived of the joy of opening lots of gifts again.
Christmas morning was cold. And snuggled down under a layer of covers my man jumped from the bed while pulling me by the arm like a kid at the break of dawn. “Come on Su-Su, it’s Christmas, we can open our gifts!” He raced down the stairs and plopped in front of the Christmas tree looking up expectantly as I slowly, and sleepily, maneuvered the stairs while tying my bathrobe around me.
I sat in the chair with teary eyes watching this grown man rip open gift after gift with a smile that lit up the whole room. He’d laugh joyfully when it was another pair of socks, he’d crunch his face up and say, “Hmmm, I wonder what this is” as he’d gently shake the wrapped box.
I know people feel the same way watching their little ones rip open gifts, squeal with joy if its something they really wanted, but to watch a grown man who has overcome so much rejection, having been abandoned, and deprived of what so many others received… indescribable.
The years that followed were the same. Many gifts, much love, laughter, and huge Christmas dinners.
It still brings tears to my eyes and a smile as I remember those years. I cherish those memories.
He doesn’t need a lot of gifts now. There are no Christmas trees or manger scenes. Instead of gazing in wonder at a ceramic baby Jesus in a manger…
he is gazing into the very eyes of the greatest gift of all time –
To read the full story of this incredible man’s journey : THE NARROW ROAD is his story and available on Amazon.
Twas the night before Jesus came and all through the place, Not a creature was praying, not one on their face. Their Bibles were lain on the shelf without care, In hopes that Jesus would not come there. The children were dressing to crawl into bed, Not one ever kneeling or bowing a head. And Mom in her rocker with baby on her lap, Was watching the Late Show while I took a nap. When out of the East there arose such a clatter, I sprang to my feet to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash, Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash! When what to my wondering eyes should appear, But angels proclaiming that Jesus was here. With a light like the sun sending forth a bright ray, I knew in a moment this must be THE DAY! The light of His face made me cover my head, It was Jesus returning just like He had said. And though I possessed worldly wisdom and wealth, I cried when I saw Him in spite of myself. In the Book of Life which He held in His hand, Was written the name of every saved man. He spoke not a word as He searched for my name; When He said “It’s not here” my head hung in shame. The people whose names had been written with love, He gathered to take to His Father above. With those who were ready He rose without a sound, While all the rest were left standing around. I fell to my knees, but it was too late, I had waited too long and thus sealed my fate. I stood and I cried as they rose out of sight; Oh, if only I had been ready tonight. In the words of this poem the meaning is clear, The coming of Jesus is drawing near. There’s only one life and when comes the last call, We’ll find that the Bible was true after all!
No matter how many times I read this, I just cannot do it without getting chills all over me! I bet you didn’t know the following about the manger that Jesus was laid in. Of course mangers are animal feeding troughs but in ancient Israel they were made of stone – not what you would see in a modern day nativity scene. Not comfortable, but great for protection. That’s why those who were experts in this matter, the priests, would put their newborn lambs in them for protection. But not just any lamb, the unblemished perfect lambs that were used in the sacrifice for sins. And Bethlehem, where Jesus was born was FAMOUS for their UNBLEMISHED LAMBS used for the sacrifice. These lambs had to be perfect so they would wrap them tightly in cloth and lie them in the manger to keep them safe. This is exactly why the only time mangers are mentioned in Jesus’ birth story it is being told to shepherds. In Luke 2 it says “This will be a sign for you, you will find a baby wrapped in cloth and lying in a manger.” The shepherds would have understood this powerful parallel! THEY KNEW what the cloth and the manger meant! This baby would be THE PERFECT LAMB OF GOD! The Messiah who would sacrifice His life for the sins of the whole world. He wasn’t just a baby wrapped in swaddling clothes lying in a manger, He was GOD: perfect, sinless and holy, humbling Himself to become the perfect sacrifice to reconcile us back to Himself!! THAT my friend, that Perfect Lamb, is WHY we celebrate Christmas!!
Insanitybytes22 has a fabulous post up calledCognitive Dissonance and Trauma?that discusses the mass psychological manipulation our government and public health officials have reigned down on us these past 20 months. It’s deliciously satisfying in the way it explains so much of what many of us have been feeling but might have had trouble putting in to coherent thoughts. In IB’s words:
“I think in part my own history has given me eyes to see the psy/ops, the psychological abuse being imposed on people over the past couple of years. I’m just more sensitive to it. It’s been triggering, it’s been traumatic to bear witness to. This is extreme psychological abuse, this is gaslighting, this is propaganda, this is abuse and trauma. This is fear based power and control.”
Yes, the gaslighting has been extreme and it’s caused significant harm by instilling such a level of fear in people that you see them doing the most preposterous things like, to paraphrase IB,” driving a motorcycle wearing a mask and no helmet.”
This may sound funny and it is, but it’s also a sign of severe cognitive dissonance and mental harm. There are millions of people like this who wear masks alone, outside, on the beach, park, in a car etc….. Why do people do this and follow other equally preposterous protocols?
There are a lot of reasons actually, which the video IB links to, “Why do People Believe the Covid and Vaccine Narrative” gets into. It’s a REALLY GOOD interview with a psychologist who explains how a constant drumbeat of fear can instill a learned helpless in people; causing them to question their own self agency and even sanity and to believe in just about anything the people doing this fear mongering tells them.
Anyone interested in the psychology behind why so many otherwise rational people have gone off the crazy cliff this past year should read IB’s post and watch the video.
It’s not just people wearing masks alone that alarms me, although I believe this represents the tip of the iceberg of severe and deep emotional trauma. It’s the divided society we’ve become due to the continual blaming and shaming messaging of those “bad people” who don’t follow “good corona” behavior. Those sickening phrases, “we’re all in this together, “my masks protects you, yours protects me, etc…repeated ad nauseam to cement in our heads that only bad people would think differently on masking, lockdowns, early treatment protocols, etc…
Nowhere has this demonization been more prevalent than with the vaccines though which is slowly creating a two tiered society of the clean and unclean. Texts like this one from a friend of mine are sadly becoming common.
It’s a real ugly mess that will take years to clean up.
Those who suffer most though are children who still are subject to the most ridiculous and harmful mitigation efforts like masking (even outside!) and forced isolation. It’s like it’s March of 2020 for these poor kids and we don’t know yet that they rarely have a bad Covid event and don’t even spread it much when infected.
The worst really is the forced vaccinations they are facing with experimental drugs that have no long term safety studies for a virus they statistically face a 0% chance of dying from. That to me is such an abomination, a dereliction to the extreme of our duty as adults to protect the young and just an outright symbol of the evil that has overtaken us.
Like a religion, we are sacrificing kids to appease the Covid Gods in hopes they will protect neurotic adults.It frightens me to think about how many parents are on board with this and what this means for society.
How did we get here as a country?
Circling back to IB’s post, the psychological abuse and gas lighting have played major roles in this. It’s pummeled people’s critical thinking process and opened the door to the worst types of manipulation.
A prime example is our Surgeon General’s Tweet on vaccinating his 5 year old son. How is this even legal? Anyway, it checks all the right gas lighting boxes; moral superiority, guilt tripping, implied euphoria if a certain behavior is followed, even a visual picture of religiosity. It’s appalling, disgusting and fascinating all at once.
That pretty much describes our Covidean world today.
Like so many parents, I was thrilled and relieved when my 5-year-old son got his #COVID19 vaccine last week. He was a little nervous when the time came but all smiles afterward. He’s been proudly showing off his “I’m vaccinated” sticker! [1/5]
Have you ever noticed how in the scriptures men are always going up into the mountains to commune with the Lord?
Yet in the scriptures we hardly ever hear of women going to the mountains. But we know why — right? Because the women were too busy keeping life going; they couldn’t abandon babies, meals, homes, fires, gardens, and a thousand responsibilities to make the climb into the mountains!
I was talking to a friend the other day, saying that as modern woman I feel like I’m never “free” enough from my responsibilities, never in a quiet enough space I want with God. Her response floored me, “That is why God comes to women. Men have to climb the mountain to meet God, but God comes to women where ever they are.”
I have been pondering on her words for weeks and have searched my scriptures to see that what she said is true. God does in deed come to women where they are, when they are doing their ordinary, everyday work.
He meets them at the wells where they draw water for their families, in their homes, in their kitchens, in their gardens. He comes to them as they sit beside sickbeds, as they give birth, care for the elderly, and perform necessary mourning and burial rites.Even at the empty tomb, Mary was the first to witness Christ’s resurrection, She was there because she was doing the womanly chore of properly preparing Christ’s body for burial.
In these seemingly mundane and ordinary tasks,these women of the scriptures found themselves face to face with divinity. So if — like me — you ever start to bemoan the fact that you don’t have as much time to spend in the mountains with God as you would like. Remember, God comes to women. He knows where we are and the burdens we carry. He sees us, and if we open our eyes and our hearts we will see Him, even in the most ordinary places and in the most ordinary things.
He lives. And he’s using a time such as this to speak to women around the world.