My Life

On A Road That Faith Built

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I sent a press release to the Portland Press Herald, when my mother decided to make a trip to Africa in 2000. I thought it might make an interesting story, and they agreed. They sent a photographer and reporter, and this is the resulting article, written by C. Kalimah Redd and published on November 11, 2000. For the record, the writer got a few facts wrong. We’ll ignore those for now.

Following the article are a few photos from her trip. On the day before her flight, Stella was hurrying downstairs to give Doug some information he needed to arrange the transportation of the three keyboards she was taking with her for the churches there. As she came downstairs, she missed a step and seriously injured her leg. We really thought she should cancel her trip, but she refused to do so. She even extended her trip, despite the pain and challenges she encountered once she was there. 

My mother was always a role model for me in life, but even in death she continues to remind me how to live.

ON A ROAD THAT FAITH BUILT
Author: C. Kalimah Redd

The Rev. Stella L. Mosqueda lives in pain.

A leg problem forces this 69-year-old Kittery resident to walk with a cane (though she walks an hour every day), and the severe arthritis in her joints has long slowed her down. But these things will not prevent her from stepping on a plane Wednesday for a two-day journey to Webuye, Kenya. There, she will work as a missionary and preach for a month.

“If an opportunity comes up for me to do something , even though other people think I can’t do it, well — I’m Irish, and I can,” she said. “I’m stubborn and independent. I have no interest in doing the same thing every day.”

Mosqueda (pronounced Mos-ke-da), who technically retired from the ministry in the mid-1980s after her husband died, has lived a life reminiscent of a Hollywood script: A farmer’s daughter moves to Cuba as a missionary without knowing a word of Spanish, meets and marries a Cuban evangelical preacher, escapes the county during the 1959 revolution, then travels throughout South America and the United States championing missionary causes while raising three girls.

Steven Spielberg, eat your heart out.

But Mosqueda’s life is no fable, and her journey next week to the east African country represents a lifetime commitment to helping others. Her faith, she says, tells her that she will blend in and love the people there, that everything will be all right.

“God really has been good to me,” she said. “It’s easy for me to love people, so I expect to have the same result in the Kenya.”

Years ago, it was Mosqueda’s faith that led her to the decision that would change her life forever.

Then Stella Cooper, she left her house in Columbus, Ohio, for Miami, against her parents’ wishes and with less than $10 in her pocket. She had a one-way ticket to Cuba.

Until then, at 21, Mosqueda had never left her home state and had never even met a Spanish-speaking person. She grew up on a farm with no electricity, the fourth of 11 children. Her family had gone to the small church closest to her home and only once had she spoken from a pulpit, when she was 9 years old and was called upon to read from the Bible.

One day, Mosqueda briefly met with a Cuban missionary who came to visit her church. They kept in contact and he invited her to join his family in the tiny country to work as a missionary.

“I knew nothing about being a missionary but figured there are things that I could do, and those I didn’t know, I would learn,” Mosqueda recalled.

Getting to Cuba was the first challenge. It was 1952, and no one could enter the country with a one-way ticket, she said. The airport clerk receiving Mosqueda saw the discrepancy after first questioning why “a pretty girl like” her wanted to go to Cuba.
Telling the clerk of her goal to be a missionary produced an unlikely outcome: He paid for her two-way ticket in full.

Upon arriving in Cuba, she could not remember what her Cuban visitor looked like and she could not speak Spanish to ask. Luckily (Mosqueda would say miraculously) she ran into another missionary woman from Ohio who led her to the missionary’s home.

Within six months, Mosqueda had control of Spanish and began working throughout the country teaching children and spreading the gospel of the Pentecostal church.

In 1955, she married Ignacio Mosqueda, and the two canvassed the country preaching and establishing churches. Many of these congregations still operate today.

By 1959, the Cuban revolution was in full swing. Ignacio knew Fidel Castro personally, but that connection did not mean he and his wife had less to fear from an unpredictable government. The Mosquedas escaped the country that year by disguising themselves as tourists, donning colorful clothing, sun glasses and a camera while boarding a government plane. “I was shaking like a leaf,” Mosqueda remembered. “I could hardly get on that plane.”

Safely in America, the couple continued their missionary crusade. They lived in or traveled to Puerto Rico, Mexico, Costa Rica, Hawaii and throughout the United States. They settled in California, where they raised their three daughters and Stella Mosqueda received a bachelor’s degree from Latin American Theology Seminary.

Mosqueda’s husband died in 1986 of a heart attack, and she returned to nursing to support her children. In 1997, she moved to Kittery with her eldest daughter, Caroline. There, she has enjoyed helping to raise her two grandchildren and volunteering in the community.

Less than one year ago, she joined the Dover Church of the Assembly of God in New Hampshire, where she occasionally preaches. Her pastor, Glenn Hurley, 32, said he is in no way surprised by Mosqueda’s desire to travel to Africa, and he is confident her journey will be a success.

“It’s years and years of trusting God and years and years of Him supplying the need,” Glenn said. “Once you learn it, you never go back.”

For her part, Mosqueda hopes to go back to Cuba to visit her family still living there soon. After her return in December from Africa, Mosqueda will likely tutor a Latin American family in English. She is considering avoiding the cold Maine winter by visiting one of her other daughters in Florida.

Mosqueda said she has no plans for any more big trips. Her physical limitations and increasing age turn simple tasks like packing into a major chore. “(But) who knows,” Mosqueda said. “My life is open.”

Copyright (c) 2000 Portland Press Herald

If anyone is interested, I would be happy to scan and share the rest of her photos from Africa. These are just the few that included her. ❤

120 Hours & Counting

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I’m 120 hours and 18 minutes into the new year, as I begin this blog post.  I am asking myself, “Am I making the most of my new year, so far?” I don’t really know, but I believe in being merciful with ourselves.

I’m not one for resolutions (I don’t even like the word), but I do have some objectives in 2020.

  1. Rest more.
  2. Make more.
  3. Pray a lot more. 
  4. Write more.
  5. Think more.

Pretty boring, but it is what it is right now. How about you? ❤

Wearing Heavy Boots

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A post about grieving, originally published 2/22/13. 

Life has been different lately.

Seven-and-a-half weeks ago, my mother passed away. Really hard to even say that, much less write it. I hate that this happened. It’s actually been rather debilitating. I am, however, finally beginning to accept that she really is gone.

It’s been hard. She and I lived together almost my entire life. And, we were close. We weren’t the ‘best friends’ kind of Mom and Daughter, so we weren’t close like that. It was more like she was my hero. As I have passed these weeks since she has been gone, I’ve realized how often my decisions were all about pleasing her. Will Mother like this? Her satisfaction, her happiness, her contentment, her needs being met—this was a primary focus of my life.

Now, that she is not here to please, I’ve been pretty unmotivated. It’s been hard. I’ve done better the past week (obviously, because I am blogging), but it’s been a slow process.

Well, maybe not that slow. I mean, it’s not even been two months, you know? Seriously. Should I be expected to recover from that kind of loss in just a few weeks? I don’t know. I do keep wondering, though, how she would be handling this—or, what she would say if she was here, watching me. What if Doug had died first, and she was here watching me mourn his loss by wasting away my life doing nothing? I think she would have gotten pretty irritated at me.

So, I am trying to balance these things. I do wish someone could tell me how long it takes to move on. I am kind of legalistic that way. I follow instructions well. But, there don’t seem to be rules for this kind of thing. I googled it, and just found a lot of nothing. Basically, it can take forever to recover. Do I have forever?

Doug reminded me of something I said after I found out I had cancer. I talked about how much I wanted to be a faithful steward of the time the Lord had given me, and how much it grieved me to think that if I died in surgery and all I’d have to show for myself was what I had done up until then, that I would have been disappointed in what I would have to offer the Lord when I met Him face to face. It’s kind of hard to regain that kind of passion, once you lose it—or lay it down at the alter of self-indulgence.

And, that’s what I am beginning to fear, that I am becoming self-indulgent in my grief, and I hate that thought. Self-indulgence is such a sinful thing.

I do excuse myself a bit, in that caring for my Mother was my occupation for several years, and this past year it was a 24/7 job. So, I have lost more than just my Mother; I have lost a big part of my identity. You know what I mean? I was a caregiver. That became my job description. I woke up everyday with a Mother-centered purpose. I had things I had to do—someone depending on me to do them. Life and death dependence. And, now? Not so much. This is kind of challenging. A lot challenging.

Yet, I think of her and I remember her life, and I know she would be very displeased with some of my choices these past two months. I mean, seven-and-a-half weeks. She would appreciate my missing her, but then she would say, “Stop crying for me! I’m with Jesus. I’m with my friends. I’m having a great time! And, I have no pain. I don’t have to get shots, or take pills. I’m dancing with Jesus, Caroline. I’m OK! You’re the one you should be crying for right now. Look at you, wasting those two good legs and that strong mind and that lovely home. Get busy. Make me proud!”

It’s so hard to let go. To let go of grief. To let go of her. To let go of that life. I had no idea what her death would mean. When she died, I was just so relieved her suffering was over. This is still the hardest memory, remembering the pain in her face, the fear in her eyes. I still can’t bear the thought without so much pain and sadness. I hate how much she suffered. The last month was the very worst. It was so hard to know how hard it was for her—and I didn’t even really know. Just how miserable was she? My heart aches from the thought. I just want to comfort her and relieve that pain—

This is the hardest thing.

I couldn’t relieve her suffering. I couldn’t do anything for her, to make it better. I tried, but who knows if it really helped? And, I can’t stop thinking of all the things I could have done, or maybe, should have done. This is hard. The Lord is good, though. He reminds me each time of all the other times she recovered. She didn’t get better, because I did everything right. Her life was never really in my hands; it was always in His. In the end, her death was more merciful than it might have been any other time. I would have preferred it go differently, but is there a better way to die? Is death ever easy?

So, I am challenged. Very challenged. I need to move on, but these are such heavy boots. The sadness is still so great. Why aren’t I rejoicing in her triumph over sickness and eternal death? I seem to prefer feeling sorry for myself, which I disrespect so much. I don’t want to be that kind of person. I don’t want to be the hostess of my own personal pity party. I want to remember my Mother well. I want to honor her life. I want to celebrate her victory.

I have been reading a book called “Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close” by Jonathan Safran Foer. I began the book a long time ago, but picked it up in earnest after Mother died. It is the story of a boy whose father dies on 9/11. This author seems to understand grief and sadness very well.

“I didn’t understand why I needed help, because it seemed to me that you should wear heavy boots when your dad dies, and if you aren’t wearing heavy boots, then you need help.”

The sun will be down soon. I am trying to do things I couldn’t do before, and walking each day is one of them. So, I need to go.

You know, when the freezing cold wind hits my face, and I keep walking, I know there is a little bit of the best of my Mother in me. I want to build on that.

❤

Life Goes On

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This was originally published on 6 February 2013, on my previous blog website.

It’s never been one my favorite expressions. Always seemed kind of selfish. As if a person was choosing something good, going on with life, instead of the something not-so-good that they were leaving behind them.

In the short time since my Mother passed away, I’ve started to realize that “life goes on” is just s fact. The world keeps spinning, the grass keeps growing, the sun keeps rising, bodies get hungry, work needs doing, people need attention. Life goes on. I’m not deserting the one who has passed away. I am just doing what I’ve been given to do.

So, life goes on. With waves of grief and trust in the sovereignty of our all-mighty God, life goes on.

Life goes on.

I guess I thought a time would come when I felt a release from the grief, and then life could go on, but I don’t think that is going to happen. I think missing her will always be a part of my life, but maybe over time I will just stop expecting her to be here. I’ll remember she isn’t coming home soon, because she is all ready Home. At peace. At rest. Free. Truly living.

Her life goes on, too.

 

❤

Happen-ness

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I went all the way back to my Xanga blog for this TBT. I originally published this on March 9, 2011. 

So…yeah.
These happen to be challenging days.
God has proven Himself faithful so many times.
I know He’s bigger than the Boogie Man.
And, all the other scary things that threaten me.
It’s just been challenging. 
And, I’m a little weary.
So…yeah.

There is good news, though.
As I checked my FB tonight, I happened to see a post from my friend, Q’ene:

“Down? Depressed? Discouraged? Dismayed? Disheartened?“

How was that title NOT going to get my attention? Q’ is such an encourager. She knows how to do the heavy-lifting. It’s a rare, and precious gift!

Then, I happened upon DanishDoll on FB. I requested she add me, and she did! When I looked at her Wall, I saw that she had just posted a devo on her Xanga:

“Stupid Ideas“

Good title! What a good exhortation. Mae does it well, speaking the truth in love, which is just what I needed to hear. (Click title to read.)

The third thing I happened across tonight, in such a roundabout way, was this video:

The testimony that follows is awesome. I really needed to hear David Kyle Foster’s clear and simple teaching. He does that well – shares deep, spiritual truths in a way that penetrates the brain fog of selfishness.

So…yeah.
Things are tough right now.
I will spare you the list.
It doesn’t really matter, you know?
Tough times happen to us all.
However, God happens, too.
He happens into our troubles.
He happens into our worries.
He happens into our disobedience.
He happens into our fear.
He happens into our mess.
He happens to love us, despite us.

I’m so glad God happens to love me.
(Sigh)
Tomorrow, if God wills, a new day happens.
Hope happens, too.

❤

P.S. Both Qene’s and Mae’s Xangas are retired (though Danish Dolls does have her archive active). If you want to stay in step with these ladies and be blessed by their good words, you can find them on Facebook here and here.

Three-Years-Old

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Surprises and Christmas trees, and blue lollipops that turn her tongue blue—these are a few of her favorite things.

Some of her favorite games are jumping from the “highest mountain” and running so fast; hiding behind a chair and calling out, “Where’s Lucy?”

She stops and smiles, when she hears the “Hanes Sister” sing, and will sing along. She is often singing something, just under her breath.

She knows the hand motions to her favorite Praise in Motion songs.

She likes to sit and snuggle in real close, whether we’re watching a favorite video or reading a book.

She can raise her legs straight up, like a ballerina at the barre. She loves to somersault and bounce like Tigger. “Sing the song, Poppa!” (“The wonderful thing about Tigger…”)

I think if she had enough paint, she would never stop. Now, she’s starting to pretend to write (letters to Snoopy), and is drawing her first faces.

She loves her little brother, and he copies everything she does. She’s learning to share, and he’s learning that sometimes she gets to play alone.

She loves her bubble baths, and going to sleep. She never fusses at nap time.

She understands that Poppa goes to church to sing and pray, and that errands with Poppa mean going to the post office and the bank.

Kite-flying and popcorn she learned from me, and that alley-oop means standing on Grammy’s foot to get a hand up onto our tall bed.

Sprinkles are eaten with a Sprinkle Spoon from a bowl. Smackerals of honey are served on Smackeral Spoons. She still likes Grammy’s applesauce.

Her response is always, “Yes,” if you ask if she’d like to pray. I don’t know what she truly knows of God, but she’s ready to learn.

I admire Lucy’s courage. I admire her focus, when she’s trying to learn something.  She can make a game out of almost anything, especially if climbing and jumping are allowed.

I had no idea grandmothering was going to be so meaningful. I delight in watching her grow and become herself. She is always more wonderful than the day before, so I am always looking forward.  Being a grandmother is one of the finest gifts I’ve ever received, and definitely my favorite thing.

❤

 

Thoughts on a Thursday

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I shouldn’t be blogging right now, but if I don’t get some words out of me I’m going to explode. So much is happening. Inside me. All around me. There is just so much on my mind. I’ve been promising myself I would blog for weeks, but blogging is a luxury of time I haven’t been able to afford.

Yet, I gotta release the valve. Gotta let a few things out.

  1. Preparing for the 15th Anniversary Celebration for the ministry my husband and I started directing in 2004: New Brothers Fellowship. Memories flood my mind as I look through old newsletters and old pictures. So many people. So may prayer requests. So many answered prayers.
  2. I am baking cookies. A lot of cookies. I haven’t baked a lot of cookies in a long time, but it’s one of my very favorite things to do.
  3. Making curtains for my daughter’s kitchen. Just valances. And, really plain. I don’t do complicated. I only mention it, because I should have made them about a year ago. I hate that it took me so long to even get started. I love to sew, though I have little skill. I wish it was a regular part of my life.
  4. I don’t know why I have eczema now, but I am experiencing first hand the life my husband has lead his entire life. Our skin issues are a little different, but it’s all bad. I don’t feel sorry for us, though. We have skin, and I’m very thankful to have skin.
  5. I see many of Hannah’s peers falling away from Christ and it makes me very angry. I am not mad at them. I am mad at Satan. He laid traps. He crept in under the cover of darkness. He has truly been a wolf, stealing the Master’s sheep. And, I’m not going to stand for it. I’m taking names and I’m praying. The parable of the Prodigal Son is there for a reason. They may all have to sleep with the pigs, before they realize what they have forsaken, but so be it. They will not die there.
  6. The truth is that in MANY CASES it was Christians that hurt these children, now adults. It makes me so mad. Satan is such a liar, thief, and destroyer. We have to face him with utter fearlessness, folks. We need to take back what he has stolen. I’m not saying these backslidden children are without fault. They made a freewill choice to sin. Yet, when a child has not been given truth and taught how to walk in Christ, they are going to have a hard time facing a temptation that promises to comfort their immediate and acute emotional pain and mental distress. If they do not know God, if they do not have spiritual support, what else will they do? I’m not speaking of anyone in particular here, but too many parents have permissively allowed Satan into their homes. They have not set a guard. Too many wives waiting on their husbands to do it, because too many women have not been taught how to be women of God (just a hint: it means more than not denying him physical intimacy). I know people look at Hannah and say, “Well, it’s easy for you to talk.” My kid is amazing, but if you think I wasn’t on guard like a hawk every step of the way, you’re wrong. If you don’t think Satan was at every corner, laying traps and luring her to death, you’re wrong. I never took her innocence or purity or faith for granted. Not for a second. I knew the Devil too well to think she was safe. In fact, it was in the darkest days of our marriage that the Holy Spirit told me to take my eyes off myself and see that the Enemy was really after Hannah. It was all about destroying her. That is true for every child out there, mom and dad. It’s not about you; it’s about them.
  7. I am thinking of posting sermons here that I think some of you might like. I have done it in the past, and have meant to do it regularly, but writing the outlines takes a lot of time. I may just post the message and write the outline later. I know most sermons I share no one listens to except Doug, but it will also be good for me. I will be able to quickly find those messages that have impacted me. The same goes for prophecy updates. I am very picky about which ones I will watch, because there’s a lot out there that’s just stupid and self-serving.
  8. The impeachment stuff is clogging our news, but I urge you to pay attention to the Middle East. It’s what happens there that best indicates where we are on God’s timeline.
  9. As for the impeachment stuff. I don’t think it will go far. It’s so baseless. So stupid. In fact, every American should hope and pray it doesn’t go anywhere, because there is no evidence of an impeachable offense. I am praying that Democrats in the House start to find the courage to speak out against it. It’s a shameful thing to rob anyone of their right to a defense, and their right to be innocent until proven guilty.
  10. Keep looking up, folks. The Rapture really could take place any time. Every prophecy that needs to be fulfilled before the Rapture has been fulfilled.
  11. I am so concerned for Americans who are left behind. They have no idea how severe the judgment of God is going to be on this nation. I don’t mean the Tribulation; I just mean God’s judgment for how we have murdered and abused children. I know this next statement may cause some to think I’m a real freak, but I also doubt anyone will read this, so here it goes: Trump, despite his many past and current sins, has done more to stop the flood of sin against children in our country than any President in U.S. history. I believe his presidency has held back the judgment of God.
  12. I believe our nation has been blessed for Trump’s support of Israel (not that it protects us from judgment). I also think he might be the President who does not send military aid to Israel during the Ezekiel 38-39 war. That has to be the case though, because no one but God can receive the credit for the victory Israel will experience.
  13. I need to go back to work.
  14. Don’t be afraid to obey the Lord, whatever He may be asking of you, calling you to do. Don’t be afraid. If it isn’t His will, He’ll stop you. Just prayerfully and humbly take that first step, then the second.
  15. These are interesting days. I don’t know what God is doing, but something is going on.

❤

Unraveling Life’s Tangled Kite Strings

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The other day. I was trying to repair two kites at the same time—while riding in a car. Admittedly, not a lot of wisdom in that decision, but we were taking our grandbabies to the park and I was trying to fix them before we got there.

Well, I couldn’t be too surprised when their strings got tangled together, but I was frustrated and disappointed in myself. Why did I think I could keep it all straight?

You know, I normally don’t mind a tangle. They’re just a challenging puzzle, a mental break. I like taking the time to focus on that knot and work it out.  I wasn’t enjoying this one, though. Time was not on my side.  This knot was going to spoil my chance to fly kites with the grandbabies. I didn’t want to work this one out; I just wanted to cut it all up and throw it away.

Staring at that tangled mess of string, losing my patience, and wanting to give up on the whole shebang, the Holy Spirit spoke to my heart, “This is where some some people are living right now. Their life feels like a tangled mess, and they don’t know how to figure it out.”

Well, I assure you that I did not expect the Holy Spirit to show up in the middle of my trying to figure out that tangle, but I started to think about what He had said. I started to think about that person. I started to think about what it takes to get out of these messes in real life, and about the compassion the Lord has on us in the midst of them. The devil tells us God is mad and has turned away from us, but that’s just a lie. It may have been our own bad choices that got us into that tangle in the first place, but God isn’t expecting us to fix it ourselves. God isn’t a self-help guru, trying to get us to fix our own problems. He is a loving Father, a good Father, promising to help us in our time of need, and receive us back into His arms, tangled mess and all—if we will just turn back to Him and ask for help.

Remember, the prodigal son? Did he get himself all fixed up nice and clean, life back in order first, before leaving that pig pen? Did he restore the inheritance he’d squandered, and pay back his debtors, before humbling himself and returning to his father’s home? Not at all! Yet, his father received him with open arms and celebration.

This is how God will receive anyone who returns to Him like the prodigal, with a repentant and contrite heart. It is a step of faith with a promised conclusion: forgiveness and restoration.

I did figure out that tangle, once I just slowed down and took it one step at a time. In the end, the last tangle was just one string that had gotten wrapped around itself, and it unraveled with one gentle pull. It wasn’t as bad a mess as I’d thought.

Maybe, your mess isn’t as bad as you think, either. Even if it is, though, I know the Holy Spirit will help you. I promise you, He will not reject you. If you come to Him with a sincere repentance, He will take you step by step through that mess, and put it in order for you. He loves you. He wants to help you. He wants to shower you with His love and forgiveness, just like the prodigal’s father did for him. Please, trust the Lord. Take your mess to Him, and let Him work it out.

Have a blessed Sunday, everyone. ❤

 

 

 

 

It’s Not the Doing

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How are you today?

My day started well enough, but as the minutes ticked by I began to feel pretty stressed-out. The thing that sent me over the top was the Saxophone Player’s text asking if I’d like to go to breakfast. Suddenly, my stress shot through the roof.

Well, that’s just not right! Going to breakfast with my husband should not make me stressed, but I was trying to order my day and that was not something I was making time for today. I knew this was wrong, though, so I stopped everything and turned my focus to the Lord.  If I’ve learned anything, I’ve learned that an absence of peace is proof that I’ve been absent from His presence. No matter how much I might be doing for Him, it’s not the doing that brings peace. It’s the being.

So, I set my mind on Him. I turned on the next sermon on my YouTube playlist. When the sermon was over, I turned on my favorite Pandora channel. Since my hands like to be busy, I made a scripture graphic with one of my favorite peony photos—a gift from God.

I didn’t have “time” for any of these luxuries today, but nothing on my scary, monstrous list of things I need to do—and things I’ve failed to do—matters as much as having the peace of God reigning in my heart. I’m no use to the Lord, if I’m sweating and straining to make things happen. Finishing everything on that list won’t bring me God’s peace. Having everything put away on my “desk” might bring a sense of accomplishment, but it cannot bring God’s peace. Only deciding to make time to be in His presence will restore my soul to a right place of resting in Him. And, that’s all I want. I accepted a long time ago that I’m a total failure as a human, but I don’t want to be a failure as a child of God. I don’t want to fail to love Him and glorify Him. He keeps my hands busy, but He does that for my sake. For His sake, He asks me to just sit with Him and know Him and rest.

He asks us all the same thing. My friend, if the pressures of the day are growing, choking your peace and joy in the Lord, I hope you will stop and sit with Him. Just leave all that there is to do, all that is pressing on you, and just be with Him. We delight in doing, but He delights in us, and in our just being with Him.

Isa263 meme

God bless you today. I pray “His peace that passes understanding guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus,” (Philippians 4:7).

Now, I am off to a late breakfast date with my patient husband. ❤

*I felt inspired to change the pronouns. I hope no one is offended.

A Dumb Movie and Bad Company

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EDIT on 5/9/19 I had my dates wrong.
I’ve been sharing how I came to understand God’s call on my life to be my husband’s help meet. It started with a post in October called Six Months. The second post was My Filthy Rags.  As I was editing the third and last post of this testimony, I was very impressed by the Holy Spirit that there needed to be some context. I don’t know how much context, yet, but we’ll start with this. 

I began to backslide from the Lord when I was seventeen-years-old. Though I was born and raised in a Christian home, I started college very young and began being impacted by the worldly culture around me. I still attended church and prayed and believed, but I was losing sight of Jehovah. It was a slow and unintentional walk away from God, but day by day I was forsaking the truth. 

God doesn’t forget us, though, just because we forget Him. He never loses sight of us, and never stops calling us back to Himself. (Thank You, Lord!)  Even as we question and challenge and reject and rebel, He continues to woo us. It gets harder to hear Him as we clutter our minds with the things of this world, but sometimes God sends people or circumstances to speak for Him. Sometimes, that gets our attention. And, sometimes it takes a dumb movie and bad company.

That’s where I found myself, when I heard the Lord speak to me, again. It was 1987, and a friend was house-sitting. He invited a few of us over to watch a movie and hang-out in a rich man’s apartment. I couldn’t have been more bored, but that’s when I heard the Holy Spirit speak to me. I was trying to watch the stupid movie, while my trio of gay buddies gossiped about who knows what. I just wasn’t into it, and that’s when I heard the Lord say:

“I am still the God of Abraham. I have not changed.”

I wish I could have seen my face in that moment. I was so taken aback. What is God doing here?  I remember sitting up straight in my seat and grabbing my notepad from my bag. Sometimes, when the Holy Spirit speaks to us, its just a statement or an instruction. Sometimes, it’s a revelation, or a prophecy—words that are full of deeper meaning. This might have been old news for everyone else, but in that moment in time this was a fresh revelation for me. God was putting me on notice, and He had my attention.

“You think I’m a god who understands your compromise? Well, am not. You think I’m a god who does not require consecration? Well, I am not. I am still the God of Abraham, and what I asked of him I could still ask of you.”

If God hadn’t changed, than I had better change fast.