MILTON'S MENTOR

There are people who are just born kind and loving. My cousin Milton, who was called Junior by family members, was one of those rare individuals. He was always gentle and sweet and kind to everyone.
Junior was quite a few years older than me, so because we weren’t close in age he wasn’t what I would call a kissing cousin, meaning we didn’t hang out together as young kids or anything. He was more of a hero image to me because he was a handsome young man in his Army uniform and so very, very kind.
Junior had what psychiatrists call a melancholy temperament, which brings occasional dark moods to the mind along with the kindness and gentleness that he exhibited.
Prison eventually became Junior’s home for ten years. I won’t go into the details of how his dark moods led him there but suffice it to say it was a crime of passion. Years later he became an alcoholic, but he always kept a job and he had a family.
My mother was one of his mother-confessors, his emotional support. As an adult I remember her talking to him on the phone for long periods of time giving him the love and encouragement he had always needed. I had always suspected that Junior had been an abused child and my mother confirmed it to me, telling me that my great aunt had attempted to “beat the devil out of him” on many occasions.
About twenty years ago my phone rang one day in the morning at 7:00 a.m. and I was afraid that it was a “bad news” call that early in the morning. When I answered the phone, it was a long distance call, and Junior identified himself and told me that he had talked to my mother the previous night and she had told him to call me, that maybe I could help him. He began to tell me about his bouts with alcoholism and the effects on himself and his family and his body. It was a heart wrenching story and my heart ached for Junior, still the sweet, gentle person he had always been.
I had nothing to give him, but I had seen many people totally transformed by God’s power. I told him about the miracle of the new birth that my husband had experienced. He told me that that was what he needed, a new life. I had nothing myself to help him, but I knew that God could and would.
We prayed a prayer on the phone and Junior asked God for the new life that he had heard about.
After we prayed together, I suddenly knew that Junior needed a mentor, someone who could be the loving father image that he had never had, someone who would teach him about God and His love and His mercy. He lived many miles away from us but I knew that he needed a regularly scheduled Bible study group or a Bible course that would give him a firm foundation in God’s love. So we prayed together about that also, as I told him that if a name came to him, to contact that person and see what developed.
I didn’t hear from Junior for a year or more and neither did my mother, except she had heard from several of her sisters that he was doing fine.
Finally Junior called me. He sounded like a different person, full of humble confidence.
When he told me about how God answered his prayer I was flabbergasted. He said that the name Winfred Moore came to his mind. He looked the name up in the phone book and made an appointment with Dr. Moore to discuss God. and had been meeting with him regularly
My amazement was because Dr. Moore had been my pastor for a while when I was a very young girl in a totally different town. Dr. Moore was an elegant speaker and a sophisticated Southerner with a delightful Mississippi drawl. He was not one that I would have chosen for Junior, who was an ex-con and alcoholic. When I got to thinking about it, Dr. Moore was perfect for Junior, because his acceptance of Junior and his willingness to mentor him gave Junior a sense of stability and acceptance which he had always needed. I know that Dr. Moore called him Milton, his real name, and that gave him a sense of self respect.
Junior died several years later and when he died he was still free from alcohol and was a regular attendee of church.
When I was telling a dear friend in Oklahoma Junior’s story, she gasped. She remarked that she had heard Dr. Moore preach in Mississippi years ago and that her mother had always adored Dr. Moore .
We’re all connected in some way, Milton, Dr. Moore, my friend Jane, her mother, my mother and me. I know the connection is God’s Spirit and it’s mind boggling.
The first gift that God gave to Junior was a perfect mentor who would show him God’s love. I’m still in awe of God. It seems like I stay that way all the time.

WOW WOW WOW

Sometimes that's all I can do is say, "WOW," to the things that God does. This story is a real wower, if there is such a word.
A bit of history in relation to this Wow experience. Over twenty-five years ago a friend named Jacquie called me and asked me to teach her about God. I am always willing to do that because He is one of the subjects of which I love to talk.
I told her yes, I would love to teach her what I know about God and told her to ask several other people who were interested in learning and we would have a Bible study group. She did, and I did, and that was the beginning of a wonderful group of women who still meet once a week to study about God and to engage in intercessory prayer. Some of the ladies have moved away but still keep in contact by email to join us in prayer and to read the words of encouragement that God gives us.
Jacquie is one of those women who moved out of town. In fact, she now lives in St. Simons Island, Georgia.
These loyal women have prayed me out of two bouts of cancer and we have experienced many other healings and miracles that still astound us. We all regularly have testimonies of God's goodness and mercy toward all men. Jacquie has needed fervent intercessory prayer lately because she has had to have chemotherapy and radiation after having had surgery for brain cancer. We pray for her every day, but we especially pray for her every time the Tuesday Girls meet, which is the name of our group. She is the founder of our group and we love her so much for her organizing the group many years ago.
On one of the days that I was to have the Tuesday Girls at my home for lunch and for prayer and study, I wanted to make the lunch easy because of pressures from work, so I had the idea to have panini sandwiches. I wanted to make them myself, using my panini iron which is similar to a waffle iron.
Time became really a problem the last few days, so I wondered if Sam's Club had prepared panini sandwiches in their frozen food department. My husband and I were going to Sam's anyway so I decided to peruse the frozen food department to see if any food manufacturers made frozen paninis. We looked kind of casually and could not find any. However, I felt like maybe I needed to be more persistent than usual in looking. Sure enough, there were packages of paninis in a remote freezer area. I was elated to buy them and serve them to make the lunch menu easy for me when the Tuesday Girls came to my house.
I took out enough paninis to serve, checked on the back of the package for the baking instructions and my eyes unintentionally gazed at the location of the manufacturing plant. That's when I had said, "Wow, Wow, Wow." The plant is in St. Simons Island, Georgia, where Jacquie lives.
We have come to recognize those coincidences as God Incidences, knowing that He is especially involved in the current situation with us. He impressed me to buy the paninis and led me where to buy them for a purpose. I know that Jacquie can expect a remarkable miracle as a result of our prayers uniting with her prayers for her healing.
Again I comment about God and His abilities with my usual Wow, Wow, Wow.

photo from http://www.coastalgeorgiaexperience.com/site/502999/page/86251

Nights in White Satin...

Nights in White Satin...
Originally uploaded by Silvia de Luque

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FAITH FOR A SAW

FAITH FOR A SAW


It is so easy for children to believe. A veil seems to come over our minds in adulthood and it become hard for us to have faith.
When our grandson Jesse was about five years old he wanted his own saw. Actually he had wanted his own saw for several years but the children's toy saws we bought him did not satisfy his longing for a real saw. He was too little and saws are dangerous, we all told him repeatedly.
One day he and his mom decided to go for a walk, with his mom pushing Jesse's little sister in her stroller. Jesse commented to his mom that she must look down at the ground on their walk because his saw would be found on the ground when they walked. You can imagine how that computed with his mom. She doubtingly thought sure, of course we'll find a saw on the ground on our walk.
They went on their journey and ended up at a small park pretty far from their house. Jesse looked down at the ground all the way to the park and reminded his mom repeatedly to look for his saw on the ground. After arriving at the park, he busied himself playing, like little boys always do. His mom decided to continue pushing little sister in the stroller while walking around the perimeter of the park to get more exercise. Jesse's reminder to his mom to look for his saw became more insistent.
As his mom reported to me a couple of days later, she was gingerly walking along and happened to glance down on the ground. There in plain sight was a blade to a saw. Jesse had never seen the saw at that park before with his natural eyes, but somehow his spiritual eyes had seen the saw blade or he would not have been so insistent about looking. As adults, we must look for miracles with the same childlike belief that Jesse had, knowing that the desires of our hearts are important to God.

GOD THROUGH A CHILD'S EYES

When our grandson Jesse was about four years old he had to have some reconstructive surgery at a hospital in a neighboring state. It was serious outpatient surgery. The thoughts of his parents were just simply on getting through the surgery and getting home with an active four year old in the car, even though they assumed he would still be groggy from the anesthesia. The afternoon before the operation, Jesse's parents drove him in their car to the big city in the neighboring state since surgery was scheduled for early the next morning. Everything went as planned and the surgery was successful. Jesse was a cooperative patient. After spending a few hours in recovery, he and his parents left the specialty hospital with him swathed in bandages but bright and alert. They had a long trip home which would take over six hours. They went merrily on their long way home, anxious of course, with the four year old in the back seat attached to a catheter, so it was expedient that they get home as quickly as possible. About halfway home, the car sputtered and then stopped. Jesse's dad was able to pull the car over to the shoulder. The gas gage had been sporadically misbehaving and it showed a little gas in the tank, but they had erroneously assumed that there was enough gasoline in the tank to get them further down the road to a gas station. This was an unhappy predicament. They were in the middle of nowhere. What to do, what to do, what to do, was the dilemma. Since this was before cell phones were readily available, they had no means of communicating with anyone while on the highway. Suddenly two men appeared out of nowhere. One man was carrying a gas can filled with gasoline. The men asked the stranded travelers if help was needed. Jesse's parents couldn't believe their eyes and ears. Neither one of them asked the men why it was assumed that they needed gasoline nor did they ask where the men came from, they were just very grateful to be rescued so they could be on their way home. The men helped put the gasoline in the car, and it was enough to get them to the next gas station. Years later five of our grandchildren were talking about God, and one mentioned that no one had ever seen God so nobody knows what he looks like. Jesse remarked, "Oh, I know what He looks like because I've seen Him." His cousins teased him about the remark and asked, "Oh, yeah, when did you ever see God?" A confident answer came from Jesse. He said, "I saw God when Mom and Dad and I ran out of gas one time and God showed up with a gas can with gasoline for us." No one told him that it was God, but he instinctively knew it had to be God because it was a miracle. His mom and dad remarked that the two men were angels, but Jesse says it was God. I think a child always knows God when he sees Him, so I believe Jesse's assessment is more accurate. Praise God that angels or God, whichever, carry gas cans filled with gasoline for stranded motorists who are in dire need of a miracle. We're not going to strain at a gnat in trying to figure out who it was. We just accept God's help anytime we receive it. God and Jesse know who was there. The rest of us are just very, very grateful that a tense situation came to a happy ending with God getting thanks and praise from our family for continuing to be the ultimate Rescuer, no matter what He looks like.

FOGGY MIND

Valentines Day is special to everyone, a time of giving and a time of showing love. Valentine week of 2008 will always be memorable to me. My husband and I joined four close relatives on an early February cruise to the Mexican Caribbean. It started off badly but ended up with a miracle. At the appointed time for boarding ship in the Galveston shipyards we heard some bad news, that our ship was six hours late in getting into port because of fog; therefore, we would be four hours late boarding ship and then leaving port. Not one of our party seemed to care because we were all glad to get away from the North Texas and Southeastern Oklahoma cold, cold February weather. We were headed for sunshine and had already had our cold bones relieved by the warmer South Texas weather. Yes, there was heavy fog at the port, what seemed to us an unusual occurrence in Texas, but we trusted that we would be getting on our way in a few hours. After we boarded ship four hours late, we busied ourselves unpacking. Then we sampled some of the wonderful food offered 24 hours a day on all cruises. Shortly after we unpacked, the captain announced via the on ship communication system that the fog was still so thick that we were not allowed to leave port. His prediction was that we would be able to leave at about ten o'clock that night, six hours later than the originally anticipated time. No one seemed to care, we just enjoyed our relaxing atmosphere. Another later announcement alerted us to the fact that the Port Authority had decided that if the fog had not lifted by ten o'clock that night, that we would have to wait until the next morning to leave if the fog finally lifted then. The "IF" seemed to be very emphasized in the announcement. When ten o'clock that night came around, there was no sign of the huge ship making any gesture toward the high seas. It seemed secure in its berth at the Galveston port. It had been a long, busy day so I decided to go to bed around ten O'clock. Even though I was exhausted I couldn't go to sleep, which is unusual for me. I tossed and turned and tossed and turned until about three o'clock the next morning, all the time listening for the revving up of the motors of the ship. I continued to pray for everyone I knew, since that's how I spend sleepless nights at home. Suddenly, at around three o'clock the fog in my mind lifted and I began to think about some accounts in the Bible that tell about Jesus talking to the winds and the winds obeying Him. Then the thought also came to my mind that God makes His angels winds and His ministering spirits flames of fire. I had read that many times in the Bible and had researched the ministry of God's angels. Faith began to be solid and unshaken in me when the realization came to me that God's angels could blow the fog away and allow us to be on our way to the Caribbean. So that's what I asked, that the angels blow away the fog. Sleep came very easily after that. Early the next morning I was awakened by the familiar sounds of the motors of the ship. They were humming and purring and clinking and clanking as we began to move out to sea. Yes! We were on our way. Later in the morning as we moved along at great speed the captain's voice came on the intercom and informed us that we were very fortunate to get out of port. He announced that after the fog lifted and we were merrily on our way, the heavy fog descended again and socked in the port. His word for it was that we were "fortunate" because we were the only sailing vessel that was able to leave port that morning. An often quoted word among our family and friends is the word blessed, which in the original language means to be fortunate, necessary to be desired. Yes, we were fortunate or blessed, whichever you choose to say, because we experienced a miracle that day. The angels had very strong lungs to accomplish that feat, and we are grateful to them. I am so thankful to God for His lifting the fog from my mind and reminding me that He is still in the business of helping his children every day in ways that might seem small to other people. He's that kind of a Father, meeting every need. Lifting the fog was a loving gesture to everyone on board the ship, His special Valentine gift to us.

Raphael, the Messenger

God is always on duty. He's always on the ball to meet our needs and desires.
One day I had taken a basket of food and a plant to the family of my good friend and prayer partner Cathi whose step father had died. It really was a cute basket and I knew it would please Cathi and her family and add my love to the sad occasion.
During the next week I was a little concerned about my youngest son who was traveling in Europe and the Middle East on business. For some reason I had a gnawing feeling in my gut about his trip, not fearful, just concern. I had prayed regularly about his safe return to his family many times a day during the week, just like I always do when someone in the family is traveling.
When I got Cathi's grateful note in the mail thanking me for the basket of goodies I had taken to her, I immediately noticed that it was written on note paper which had a familiar picture of two angels on the front. After I read her gracious note of thanks, I turned the note over to see if the name of the artist of the familiar painting was written on the back.
"Hallelujah," I immediately exclaimed, being flooded with peace about my son when I looked at the name of the artist. The name was Raphael, a name that meant a great deal to me. Twenty-eight years ago when my son entered the Navy I was distressed about his safety in the military. God had directed me to an unusual book called Tobit, found in the Apocrapha, which I had found in an old Roman Catholic translation of the Bible. Raphael was the name of the angel God had sent to protect the son of Tobit when his son was traveling to foreign lands. When I read the book I became confident that God was going to also protect my son while he was in the Navy, which he did.
In the incident involving the card I was again infused with peace about my son's trip to Europe and the Middle East, another reminder that the angel Raphael was still on duty to protect my son on his journeys, just like He always had. My son called that night from Israel, relating that he was safe and was being treated like a dignitary. Of course Raphael would arrange that, too.
In relaying this story to Cathi about the faith and peace I had received from the note, I heard her side of the story. She said that she was writing many thank you notes on other note paper but had a desire to search to see if she still had the paper with the picture of angels when she wrote to me. Sure enough, she had one note left, so she wrote her note of gratitude to me on the anointed paper. She certainly didn't know that she was participating with God in giving me peace relating to the safe return of my son.
Now I'm the one sending words of gratitude, both to God for His gift of peace and to Cathi for obeying the urge to use the special paper for a special message to me from God.
Journeying with God is a ball!

THANKS TO GOD AND BEVERLY

Beverly Sills was never one of my favorite singers, but God used her in a dream as an example to me of how I was to triumph over breast cancer. Many years ago I woke from a good night’s sleep and immediately remembered a dream I had had that night. The dream was very vivid, not like many hazy dreams that we have. I wrote the dream in my journal and put it away for future reference. In the dream I saw a picture of Beverly Sills in which she was completely surrounded by yellow gladiolas and yellow roses. There was no dialogue in the dream, just the picture. Several day later I received one of my health magazines in the mail. I casually flipped through the pages of the magazine. To my shock and unbelief my eyes landed on the same picture of Beverly Sills that I saw in my dream. The only difference in the two pictures was the fact that in the magazine picture she was only surrounded by yellow gladiolas. Roses were not present in the magazine picture like they were in my dream. I hurriedly scanned the article and saw that she had overcome breast cancer. I put the article in my journal also. Several month later I discovered a lump in my right breast. The dream about Beverly Sills immediately popped into my mind. I previously had not completely read the article about her that accompanied the picture, but I now felt compelled to read the article in its entirety. I read in the article that her courage during her battle with breast cancer came from Rose Kennedy, who told Beverly that she had overcome many obstacles in life by putting her fist in the air and declaring, “I will not be defeated.” Rose Kennedy’s wisdom was an extra bonus for me. I felt that the roses were in the picture in my dream because God was personalizing the picture for me so that I would learn how to overcome the dreaded disease. My husband has always called me his Yellow Rose of Texas because yellow roses are my favorite flower. During the following weeks I regularly went to my journal to reread the article and look at the picture of Beverly, as well as read the description of my dream. I needed the extra boosts of faith because a tumor in my right lung had also been discovered. My friends were all praying for me and calling me to offer words of encouragement. On the appointed day of the surgery to remove the tumor from my lung, my husband and I arrived at the hospital a couple of hours earlier than we were scheduled to arrive. We couldn’t sleep, anyway, so we decided to arrive early. I was sent to a private hospital room to rest because we were too early. Almost immediately an attendant came with a gurney, informing me that that my surgery had been moved up to the first one of the day because two other surgeries had been cancelled. This was a strange happening, but it was good news to us. I was wheeled on the gurney into the pre-op room, and there was only one nurse in the room. When the gurney attendant left the room, the nurse immediately said to me, “Do you like roses?” I energetically replied, “ Yes,“ starting to cry at the awesomeness of the event, recalling my dream and the article about Beverly Sills and Rose Kennedy. The nurse left the pre-op room for a few minutes, then returned with the biggest yellow rose I had ever seen. She handed it to me, telling me that she had picked the bloom that morning, the first bloom from her bush. The bloom was the size of a salad plate, the most beautiful yellow rose I had ever seen. By this time I was sobbing with joy, but I managed to tell the nurse about the occurrences of the past few months. She immediately looked toward heaven and expressed thanksgiving to God for my healing. Words of praise and thanksgiving flooded the entire room from the two of us. After the lung operation, my joy rose to new heights when the pathologist returned with the report that the tumor in my lung was benign. The ensuring operation for the breast lumpectomy and months of radiation were a breeze because of the dream, the magazine article about Beverly and Rose, and the beautiful yellow rose from God that was handed to me by the nurse. Beverly has left this life and is now in heaven. She is walking among more beautiful flowers than we will ever see in the earth. I want to publicly thank her for the role she played in my miracle. I know she will relay my thanks to Rose Kennedy. They were used by God to infuse faith and courage into me at a time when it was necessary for me to have an overabundance of them. After sixteen years I continue to be cancer free, thanks to God and Beverly.
photo from richardnix@flickr.com

HEALING KISSES FROM GOD

God uses a variety of distributors to deliver His blessings. When our grandson Stephen was born, we were amazed at His choice of distributors.
Stephen was born six to eight weeks prematurely. Soon after the delivery it was discovered that he had had a stroke and there was a pool of blood in his brain. The prognosis of the doctors was that he might be palsied and that his motor skills would be grossly affected. Their comment was that the effects might not be evident until he began to walk. All of the family was distressed at the sad news, of course.
At this time my husband and I had seen many miracles in our lives in the prior twenty years. We knew that prayer changes things, so we began intercessory prayer for this tiny baby who didn't deserve what had happened to him, just as no baby deserves defects caused by birth.
We were confident in God's healing ability and were eagerly anticipating how He would choose to heal in this instance.
When we arrived at the Catholic church for his infant baptism ceremony we noticed that this was not a traditional church, but one with contemporary music and lots of rejoicing in praise and thanksgiving to God. This was just the kind of church my husband and I liked to attend, one based on love and joy.
There were about fifteen small children waiting to be baptized. When time for the multiple baptisms came, the priest made a starting statement, one that is rarely heard in a traditional church. He said, "We believe in this church that when we baptize a child that there is healing available for that child if the child is in need of it. "
Our ears perked up! We were elated because Stephen was certainly in need of a healing from the effects of the stroke and the premature birth. We quietly rejoiced throughout the entire baptism ceremony that God had provided just the right church and just the right priest to provide healing for Stephen.
Stephen is now 14 years old, a wonderful athlete with sharp mental acuity. He plays soccer and baseball and has no signs of ever having had a stroke as an infant.
We live our lives in awe of God and his orchestration of events which enable His servants to perform His miracles for people who are in need of them. It's a wonderful adventurous life when you know that God wants to meet every need that we have.
Stephen always has a smile on his face, even as a teenager. I think it's because of the God kisses he received at baptism.

The Lazarus Rose Bush

THE LAZARUS ROSE BUSH

Several years ago my husband and I were in a frustrating business dilemma. A trusted, long time employee had advised us that she was going to leave our employ and go to work for an associate of ours in another city. That was a shock, but one that could be easily solved because we could hire someone else.She also advised us that she was going to take a major part of our business with her to her new employer, leaving us with only a third of the businesses that we had serviced for years. This was a devastating blow. We were disappointed in her as well as our long time associate, with whom we had always been on very congenial terms business-wise as well as socially. Our dilemma was two fold: number one, we would be operating temporarily with one less employee; and, number two, we would certainly miss the huge chunk of business that she was taking with her. We stewed and stewed with our emotions ranging from anger to resentment to sadness and rejection, because the employee had been like a daughter to us and had worked for us for many years. We wanted the best for her but we were emotionally wounded by her actions. My husband and I both prayed and prayed about what to do. We didn't want to contact the clients she was taking with her and defame her character by telling them the whole story. That was not a valid choice for us. An idea come to my husband, that he should meet with her to see if we could work out some kind of compromise. We knew that we did not want there to be any strife or contention lingering between any of the involved parties: her, the associate and us. We knew the spiritual truth about keeping peace with all men. We knew the spiritual truth about forgiveness. This situation was hard, like being hit from two sides at once.It came to me that if she would not agree to negotiate with my husband about taking a large chunk of our business with her, that we should tell her that we would give it to her because we did not want any ill feelings to fester and corrupt the rest of our business. My husband had checked with an attorney and he had advised that we had a legitimate lawsuit, but that we should think long about pursuing legal action. The attorney said that our clients would have to get involved, having to choose sides, and would have to testify. He advised that it could ruin our business as well as the business of our associate. Certainly we didn�ft want that.My husband went to the meeting with our employee and came back with the knowledge that there was nothing we could do, that she was now an employee of our associate and was taking some of our business with her. My husband told her that because we are Christians that we were giving that portion of the business to her so as to avoid strife and contention. The next evening we took a long walk and prayed fervently for the ability to forgive her. We decided to forgive her and the associate as an act of our will, although there was no feeling of forgiveness that came along with that choice. Before we left for our walk that evening I had noticed that one of the ten rose bushes that we had planted six weeks prior to this time was still bare of leaves and the stalk and branches were black. I had asked my husband to please dig it up several times in the past two weeks because it was dead and the deadness of it was ruining the beauty of that rose bed. On this occasion of our walk, I again asked my husband to dig up the dead rose bush tomorrow. He assured me that yes, he would dig it up and put it on the pile of dead limbs destined for the city dump. We proceeded on our walk, praying about the business situation.The next morning I rose early and took another long walk, praying the entire time for a congenial solution to this problem in our business. As I prayed I continued to speak forgiveness to everyone involved in the situation as an act of my will because I certainly didn�ft feel forgiving. Coming back from my morning walk, as I rounded the entrance to our driveway the thought came to me to look at the dead rose bush. I reluctantly did it because I really didn't want to fix my gaze upon something dead in the beautiful rose garden. I was in no mood for it. As my gaze landed upon the subject rose bush, I couldn't believe my eyes. Overnight the rose bush had sprouted several green leaves on the dead stalks. Then the Voice that I had come to rely upon and knew to be the Voice of God said in my mind, "If I can bring life to that rose bush overnight, then I can bring new life to your business. Forgive her and never say anything negative about her or the associate again." I ran into the house and told my husband about the rose bush. He ran out the door, looked at the miracle, and he was just as amazed as I was that the dead bush was not only alive but it had sprouted leaves overnight. Neither one of us could believe our eyes. We decided on the spot to name the bush Lazarus. The Lazarus rose bush has been an inspiration to many people who have heard the story. One neighbor would often come to look at it when she needed faith for good outcomes to certain situations in her family. God was right. It seems foolish to say that because God is always right. Within just a few months we had new clients to replace the clients that she had taken with her to our former associate. In just a few years we had to employ three new people to help us handle the abundance of clients that God had replaced. God's principles of forgiveness and refusing to enter into strife are always true. God's proof of His love for us and His love for everyone involved in the situation is a huge lesson. I heard one woman say that when we pray and bring God into a situation that everyone wins. How true those words are. Everyone won in what could have been a disastrous situation if we had not brought God into it through prayer. We had to have His help and guidance in using two of the most important principles that He teaches, forgiveness and refusing to enter into strife and contention. God has never failed us. He never fails to provide solutions to every situation we encounter. He is the Great Problem Solver. The blooms on the Lazarus rose bush are a constant reminder of God's power to resurrect and restore situations and circumstances for His children. He loves doing it!

Heaven In Cincinnati

Saturday, September 15, 2007
HEAVEN IN CINCINNATI

Great airline prices sometimes carry strange scheduling paths.It always seems to be worth the roundabout trip because the savings are so great. We proved it on a recent adventure.Our trip from Oklahoma to California via Cincinnati was certainly worth the detour in February of 2007. The Cincinnati/North Kentucky airport welcomed us with a surprising spiritual experience.We had already flown the first leg of the trip, from Tulsa to Cincinnati, and while waiting for the second leg of the journey I went to a less congested area of the airport to make a cell phone call to a friend who lives in Cincinnati. I reached her on the phone and we had a good visit before I had to walk back to our departure gate.When I got back to the departure gate, my husband called my attention to a little old man who was walking back and forth in an aisle, his back towards us. My husband said to me, "That man looks just like your dad." My dad had died in 2006 in Arlington, Texas. Daddy was a real character who gave us millions of laughs while he lived. We have relived the funny things he did and we have told the hilarious stories that he told over and over again with increased laughter every time.The little old man in the airport was the same height and stature as my dad. He was about the same age Daddy was when he died, 95. The man walked with the same shuffle and slope of his shoulders and he had on a light blue cowboy shirt and dark blue jeans, just like Daddy liked to wear. He had on tennis shoes and a good-old-boy cap, just like Daddy always wore. In fact, the back of the man's head in the cap looked just like Daddy's, with his bald head visible from above the snapped band and his light gray hair showing below it. The man was a twin for Daddy! After watching the man who was a twin for my dad shuffle back and forth, I had to see the man's face to see if there was any facial resemblance. I walked to the end of the aisle and looked into the face of the man. He had the same tight skinned face that Daddy had when he died, no wrinkles at all, just drooping jowls. The only thing missing was Daddy's prominent nose. Otherwise, the man was a replica of my dad. After rejoining my husband in the waiting area we continued to watch the man, amazed at the astounding resemblance, especially the height, the shuffle, the sloping shoulders, the cap and the clothes. What a pleasure to have a visual remembrance of my dad right before my eyes. While we were enjoying the blessed event, a small girl about five years old, accompanied by her mother, walked into the departure area. We could hear her shoes playing a melody as she walked. That was a new thing for us, to hear a complete song played by shoes. As I sat there I wondered if the music grew aggravating to the mother after an entire day of hearing it. The girl and her mother took two of the few empty seats in the area behind us. When the little girl sat down in the chair behind me, I began to recognize the tune that her shoes were playing. My ears perked up and my spirit rose to new heights when I realized that the song that her shoes were playing was, "You Are My Sunshine," the same song I repeatedly sang to my mother when she was dying in 2005. I also sang the song at her funeral in Arlington, Texas, and at the graveside service in Amarillo, Texas. My husband and I looked at each other in amazement.We sat still in our seats, in complete awe of the situation. We immediately knew that we were supposed to come to Cincinnati to have this wonderful reminder of my parents, their love, their constant emotional and spiritual support, and their zest for life.When we got on the airplane headed for San Diego, I opened a book that we had bought a month before this trip but had not had a chance to read. Inside the book were two sheets of paper stapled together. It was the sermon that the preacher had given at my momfs funeral. My sister had sent it to me quite a while ago. I thought I had put it inside of a folder I kept of my parents' funeral materials, but here it was. Neither my husband nor I remembered putting the copy of the sermon inside of the book. How it got there is a mystery. We immediately knew that the three incidents were to let us know that there is a cloud of witnesses around us and that our loved ones are part of that spiritual cloud. My sister had wonderful insight into the glorious experience. She said that my parents wanted us to know that we weren't going to California without them, that they were still going to be our traveling companions. We had taken many trips with my parents to California, having a ball with them and laughing almost all of the time on those trips. After this experience I will always appreciate the detours that we have to take on our flights, constantly looking for God incidents, which we previously called coincidences.By the way, the price of our tickets were so ridiculously low that we had a hard time believing that we could fly so far for that small amount of money. My dad never liked to spend an unnecessary amount of money on anything, so maybe he had something to do with that, too. Who knows?

Leonard, The Character

Sunday, September 9, 2007
LEONARD, THE CHARACTER

My dad was one of God's true characters, as you can see from the poem I wrote for him on his 80th birthday. It said the following:"You're our Al Jolson in the movies we have of you.You're our Jimmy Durante, all our noses are yours, too.You're our Will Rogers in the wise things that you say.You're our Red Skelton, you still make us laugh today.You're our George Burns in the stories that you tell.You're our Howard Hughes, in business you did so well.You're really Leonard Wieland, our father and our friend,Someone we can count on from beginning to the end.You're our Rock of Gibraltar, our foundation strong and true.You're truly our hero. Daddy we all love you."
My dad began to lose some of his sharp mind and clever wit as his years increased. In fact, in his early 90s he thought he had won the Publisher Clearing House millions. It took a lot of talking to convince him of his folly, but he had already made a fool of himself to his friends in Texas. It was several years after that embarrassing situation before we could joke with him about the incident since the ridicule he received from his friends because of his gullibility was too painful for him to discuss. However, after a few years passed, we had many laughs with him about the truth of the saying, "There's no fool like an old fool." Daddy died in Texas in 2006. The night that he died at age 95 my sister called to tell us that he had died peacefully with only a gasp and then he was gone. We were pleased to hear the news about his peaceful departure because that is the exit for which we had all fervently prayed. We wanted him to leave his earth with as little pain as possible as he entered heaven to be with Mother. We grieved a lot that evening, but we also laughed a lot because he left us a plethora of hilarious stories. We knew he would want us to laugh, because that was our family custom. I woke at 4:00 a.m. the next morning, couldn't go back to sleep, so I decided to get on the computer and send emails to my friends telling them that our prayers for a peaceful departure for Daddy had been answered.As I was typing the letter on the computer, I suddenly saw a pop-up on the computer screen, which was impossible since we had multiple pop-up and spam blockers. The pop-up informed me that I had won five million dollars in the Publisher Clearing House Contest. I immediately knew that it was my Daddy's parting message to me and that he wanted to leave us with a laugh, as was his habit in life. Wow, I never knew my Daddy had that kind of influence in heaven! I really, really admire him now.Bob Hope always signed off his programs singing, "Thanks for the memories," which Daddy always loved. So I'll ditto Bob Hope's words of gratitude by saying, "Thanks for the memories, Daddy.You definitely got the last laugh!"

Daddy, June 2007

In Praise of God and Mother

Wednesday, August 29, 2007
IN PRAISE OF GOD AND MOTHER

Several years ago I had a dream in which I helped my mother in her transition from this life to the next life. In the dream I ushered her out of this dimension, and the angels of God met her and ushered her into the kingdom of God. In the dream the transition was peaceful, easy and full of the glory of God. In the dream, death was not a dreaded, sad thing, but was a glorious thing.On Wednesday, June 15th, 2005, the dream became a reality.Mother had been slightly ill off and on for a few months. It just seemed like her body was wearing out. She was 91 years old, but was still young in spirit. It was time for her to get her new spiritual body and join her Savior Jesus, her Heavenly Father and the rest of her family who had gone into eternity.In the dream that I had several years previously, I was holding my mother in my arms, singing to her, and she slipped away very peacefully. I woke from the dream all those years ago grieving very deeply, knowing that it wouldn't be very many years before the dream became a reality. I guess God knew it would take me several years to be prepared for the actual event.My mother was the epitome of the virtuous woman. She had unconditional love for everyone with whom she came in contact. Infinite wisdom was a gift which she shared with anyone who had a need for Godly wisdom. She loved to laugh, and laughed very readily at any and all jokes. She was a delight to be around.Several months before her death her health began to fade, but she continued to keep the positive attitude that she always wore like a jeweled crown.When she entered the hospital, it was apparent that the time for her glorious union with the heavenly hosts was about to occur. By the working of many miracles, God's great orchestration managed to have her transferred to a resident hospice facility in downtown Fort Worth, Texas. For two years previously to this, she and my dad had lived in a retirement apartment house in nearby Arlington, Texas. At the hospice hospital she was kept free of pain and she was comfortable in the beautiful surroundings.Through a series of further divine orchestrations, every family member in the vicinity was redirected from their own plans for the day and directed to go to the hospice facility to see Mother at the same time. Earthly plans were willingly scrapped for God's heavenly plans.At the hospice facility we individually told Mother about our deep love for her and our admiration of her virtues, all at different times in the early evening.The hospice facility provided a beautiful lounge area where the family convened to visit and rest. At God's appointed time, everyone was visiting in the lounge area, but I decided to stay with Mother in her beautiful room.I pulled a chair over to her bed and began to sing to her, just like in the dream several years ago. I didn't know what songs to sing, so I depended upon the songs the Holy Spirit brought to my mind. I was amazed and surprised that the song, �"You Are My Sunshine," came to mind. I began to sing it to her and she began to struggle less and less to breathe. I understood the reason for that song when I sang the words:"You are my sunshine,My only sunshine,You make me happy,When skies are gray,You'll never know, Dear,How much I love you,Please don't take my sunshine away.The other night, Dear, as I lay sleeping,I dreamed I held you in my arms,As I awoke, Dear, I was mistaken,So I hung my head and cried.You are my sunshine,My only sunshine.You make me happyWhen skies are gray.You'll never know, Dear,How much I love you,Please don't take my sunshine away." After I began singing the song, I finally understood the reason for the song, that it was a fulfillment of the prophetic dream that I had years ago.I sang the song over and over again as Mother continued to have frequent struggles for breath. Then the words to another old song came to my mind that I hadn't sung in fifty years, but I began singing it, not sure if I knew all of the words. God provided them. "This world is not my home, I'm just traveling through, My treasures are laid up, Somewhere beyond the blue. The angels beckon me, From heaven's open door, And I won't feel at home In this world anymore. Oh, Lord, you knowI have no friend like you.If heaven's not my home, Then, Lord, what will I do? The angels beckon meFrom heaven's open door, And I won't feel at homeIn this world anymore." I sang that song over and over and over, stroking the beautiful face of my mother. After my singing the song many times, her peaceful body totally relaxed and she drew her last breath.What grace and mercy our Heavenly Father has that He would allow us to have a part in His orchestration for the final moments of Mother's life in the earth.Her exit from the earth occurred within sight of the hospital where my sister, Joy, died 34 years ago. Neither of those great ladies lived in Fort Worth, both of them having lived many hundreds of miles away. However, God, in His infinite grace, chose that venue for Mother to leave the earth, close to where her darling daughter Joy had died.After Mother's last breath, the rest of the family swarmed into the room with praises to God for allowing us to have known His love through Mother. Joining with the chaplain, we circled her bed and prayed prayers of thanksgiving for the life of this great lady.The youngest great grandson, nine months old at the time, too young to know what was going on, waved bye-bye into the air. We all know that he gave the parting gesture to Mother's spirit as she left this earth and entered into the place that God had prepared for her. Mother always wanted to witness for Jesus, but could never find the words. However, her life was a witness to the Unconditional Love of God. I'm writing this story to be the testimony that she always wanted to be able to give. It is Edna Louise Ryals Wieland's story about the greatness of God. Thanks you for listening to this love story.

Moving And Shaking With God

Saturday, September 8, 2007
MOVING AND SHAKING WITH GOD

For years I had no idea what it meant when I read the scripture about God quickening our mortal bodies. Quicken was a term that meant absolutely nothing to me until it happened to me. Presently when I look it up in the dictionary I see that it means to make alive. Another definition says it means to cause to burn more intensely. I know experientially what it means because God quickened my mortal body after I discovered that I had cancer, and He healed me. Many years ago I discovered a lump in my breast, a discovery that brought fear flooding into my mind like it does the minds of others. Yes, that was my reaction, gripping fear.The fear was actually unfounded in my case because of a dream I had previously which laid out the whole scenario. The dream had occurred several months previous to finding the lump in my breast. I wrote the dream in my dream book, assuming it was for someone else. After I woke from the dream I gave it a few minutes of prayer for whoever had the cancer, never dreaming that it was a prophetic dream about me. I should have interceded mightily.The prophetic dream of what was to come was very graphic, full of minute details. In the dream I was in a laboratory full of clear plastic containers. I was viewing the individual containers and came to a specific container which was filled with a strange looking mass. I said to a presence in the room, a presence which I could not see, "What is in this container?"The presence said to me, "That is cancer cells being healed." I said to the presence, "Put my cancer in there and heal me." That was the essence of the dream. You would think since it was so personal that I would have remembered it when I found the tumor and immediately drawn faith from it for a good outcome. I think since that was at a time when breast cancer was a death sentence for women that I simply refused to accept it as a prophetic dream and I pushed it way back into my subconscious, not wanting to believe that I was the person in the dream in need of healing. Several days after discovering the lump I remembered the dream and retrieved my dream book from the bureau and read the pertinent dream. Faith began to slowly inch its way past the fear and take up residence in my mind.After visiting my doctor, having an exam and a needle biopsy, my doctor called me and instructed me to choose a surgeon because I needed to have surgery immediately. I sensed the expediency in his voice.My husband and I discussed the matter and decided to go to a larger city which was near to us to seek a second opinion. After calling a dear friend in the city, she recommended a local surgeon, but it just didnft seem right at the time. Then she told me that she had a friend who was head administrator at one of the biggest hospitals in the city and that I should call him for a referral to another doctor.When I called the hospital administrator, he already knew about me and my dilemma from my friend, and he recommended a certain doctor in the city. An appointment was set up with the doctor, at which time I received the same chilling news from him. He instructed me to see a surgeon immediately because the tumor was large and had grown so quickly that it must be an aggressive form of cancer. I still wanted another opinion, so that doctor sent me to a surgeon who had the reputation of using alternative methods on breast cancer patients, hormones or nutritional supplements, if appropriate, before doing surgery. That sounded like the kind of doctor that I wanted in charge of my case. I was beginning to feel a little better since I didn't think I was going to need immediate surgery. An appointment with the recommended surgeon was quickly scheduled.A third doctor, the surgeon, was one with whom I felt very comfortable. He examined me, read the reports of the other doctors and viewed the mammogram report. Then he came into the exam room, asked me to dress and come into his office, bringing my husband with me. This didn't sound like good news to me.In the doctor's personal office he began to describe to my husband and me the nature of the tumor and the prognosis, that it was a fast growing form of cancer which needed a surgical biopsy and excision immediately. Then he said, with tears streaming down his face, "I will save your life." I was thinking at the time that I had only come to see him for some nutritional supplements, why was he talking about saving my life?
Okay, now I saw the seriousness of the situation. Denial finally gave way to practicality.The doctor asked if we could go immediately to the hospital, register and then be ready for surgery the next morning. We pleaded to go back to our home in a nearby town and wait until the next day for me to enter the hospital and then have the operation the following day. He agreed, but as we left his personal office he was on the phone reserving an operating room for the second day.My husband and I left his office after being stunned into silence. We drove back to our home without speaking. I had the dream for comfort, but fear was still roaring like a lion in my mind.While my husband was on the telephone informing our grown children, my parents and my siblings and his siblings about the surgery, I went back to read the dream again. The battle against fear was consuming me. The doctor's words wouldn"t leave my mind, that he was going to save my life. My dream also kept coming to mind, so I knew I had to pray intensely before entering the hospital the next day and before the surgical procedure the following day.I began to walk outside around our swimming pool and out into our yard, then back through the house, then retracing my steps, praying all the time in the Holy Spirit, singing songs that immediately were coming to mind about how God is bigger than cancer, praying, praying and praying. That's the great thing about the Holy Spirit, He never runs out of words. That went on for many hours. I assumed that my husband was praying also. After about four hours of intense praying, my body and mind were exhausted from the emotional day, so I went into the house to rest before resuming praying. I was prepared to pray all night. I reasoned that if Jesus could do it when he was walking on the earth, then I could, too. As I entered the house, I saw that my husband was asleep in front of the TV, not praying like I assumed he was doing. I knew that my prayers could be hindered if I got angry with him for not supporting me with prayer, so I woke him and told him to go on to bed. I told God, "Well, it's always been you and me, anyway" I went into our bedroom and laid on our bed to rest a minute, but continued praying in the Holy Spirit. My husband came into the bedroom, went to the library adjacent to our bedroom, sat in a recliner and began praying also. After praying a few minutes he had a mental image of a ring of fire descending over my right breast, the one with cancer. At the time I had no knowledge of his vision, but I had a sensation that our prayers joined and formed an electric arc between us. This demonstrates the truth of the scripture that says where two or three agree as touching anything that they ask, it shall be done. I began to feel very, very hot. Suddenly my body began to shake. I said to God in my mind, "Now, I'm not going to shake like some of those wild women at those Pentecostal meetings, am I?" Immediately the scripture came to my mind that said, "I will shake that which can be shaken so what cannot be shaken will remain." I've always told God that I have to have scripture to back up what He is doing because I don't want any wolves in sheep's clothing at my door. With that scripture in mind, I made the choice to yield to the power of God and shake if it was absolutely necessary. Shaking is not the word for it. Quaking more adequately describes it. I was quaking so intensely on the bed that the head of the bed was banging over and over again on the mirrored wall behind it.My husband came into the bedroom scared at what he was seeing, and he tried to hold me down in an effort to try to stop my body from shaking. He had no idea a battle was taking place in my body. I asked my husband not to stop the power of God, and he released my quaking body. Keep in mind, this was all new to us.At the same time I was shaking and quaking, my body felt like it was hot almost to the point of burning, yet I was cool to the touch. The scripture at this time came to mind, "The fervent prayers of a righteous man avails much." I suddenly knew what the word fervent means in that scripture. It means heat filled, like a blast in a furnace.Finally my body stopped shaking and quaking as suddenly as it had started. I was so thrilled with the power of God that I didn't want to move. My husband readied himself for bed, puzzled at the happenings. He hadn't had the assurances of God that I had in my mind, so he thought I had had some kind of fit. He was right in some ways, because God had given the demon of cancer fits of His anger for attacking one of God's kids, and He had shaken the demon until it left my body. I was healed as a result.I slept like a baby for the first time in many nights. When I woke the next morning I was peaceful but I could sense fear coming from my husband. While he went to his office to tell his superiors about the surgery, I called a friend who lived nearby and told her about the glorious incident. I asked her to pray against the fear that was in my husband because I didn't want it to enter into me again.My friend came to our house and was intending to pray there. She found that she couldn't pray as easily as she could at home because fear was heavy in our house. She went back to her home and began to intercede for us, like I knew she would. While waiting for the appointed time to leave for the hospital in the city, I laid on our bed, not wanting to leave the scene of the events of the previous night. The presence of absolute peace was still in the bedroom.While communing with Our Father and thanking him for the dream and the arcing of power of the Holy Spirit and the shaking and burning of the cancer from my body, the words came to me, "Today consider yourself an only child. You are in a cocoon of love with Me. Keep your mind there." Precious, precious, precious is the only way to describe His words. I was able to stay in the cocoon with Him encased in peace. We went to the city, checked into the hospital at the admitting office, and we heard a voice say, "Has Tommy Allen checked in yet?" Very few people knew we were there. We turned to see who had spoken, and a man said, "Are you Tommye?" He introduced himself as the administrator of the hospital. He told us that he was going to do everything possible to make my stay at his hospital a pleasant experience. That was only the beginning of the preferential events that occurred for an only child. When the attendant ushered us into the hospital room we saw a small bouquet of flowers on the nightstand, compliments of the hospital. My room was on the top floor of the hospital, a spacious room with a dinner table and chairs, a recliner, a gorgeous sofa and a huge bathroom. It looked like a suite, beautifully furnished and decorated. This was more of the only child treatment. It was pure luxury. I was starting to like this.The first nurse to enter the room was loving and attentive. Through a few of her casual comments we discerned that she knew about healings. She appreciated our testimony of my healing, so I told her I was there for a confirmation of the healing. Later, as I was praying again, I had a sense that the operating room would be packed with angels when I got there.The next morning I was wheeled into the pre-op room, still keeping my mind in the cocoon of love from the day before. Later when I woke in the recovery room, a nurse said, "Tommye, I thought you would like to hear the good news. The pathology report says it is benign. In fact, it says benign, benign, benign. I said to her, "God says it is benign, Jesus says it is benign and the Holy Spirit says it is benign. That"s good enough for me." She and another nurse wheeled me on a gurney back to my room, and as I passed the nurses station all of the nurses cheered me on, rejoicing at the good news. I told them that the champagne was on me.The surgeon came into the room and stated that all of the doctors were 99 percent sure that the tumor was malignant before the surgery. I told him that it was formerly malignant but that I had been healed in the meantime. The suave, confident doctor told me, "I know who to ask for prayer if I ever need it." He also told me that he had not removed all of the tumor because my body seemed to be absorbing it. He said that was unusual, so he wanted to see how fast the complete absorption took. He wanted to check on it every two weeks.That evening my only child adventure continued. In our beautifully decorated room overlooking the city with its lights twinkling in the big picture window, My husband and I were treated to a six course meal prepared and served by the hospital chef. Each course was separately wheeled from the kitchen to my room on a cart which was covered with elegant white cloths. The chef placed each individual course on the dinner table in my hospital room. He had earlier created a tasteful setting using a beautiful white tablecloth, cloth napkins, flowers and nice silverware. After serving us each course, he went back to the kitchen to prepare the next one while we ate. We feasted on gourmet appetizers, shrimp cocktail, a Caesar salad mixed by the chef in the hospital room, lobster and steak, vegetables and bread, vintage wine, and flaming bananas foster expertly prepared in the room and served with a gourmet blend of coffee. The prevailing memory I have to this day is of the perfect setting, my husband and me looking out of the window at the city with its millions of twinkling lights while the chef prepared the flaming dessert for us. It was like a scene from a movie. We reveled in luxury fit for an only child of a King. It was a night to remember. Before being released from the hospital, another doctor came to report to me about his part in the surgery. Prior to the procedure, the surgeon and I had agreed that this would be a convenient time while I was under anesthesia for a gynecologist to do a procedure that I was needing. I had not talked to the gynecologist before surgery but he came to my room after surgery to report to me his view of the happenings in the operating room.When he came to tell me about his part in the surgery, he commented that he had never been involved in an operating room where similar events ensued as they had during my surgery. He said that when the surgeon took the first slice from the tumor, the pathologist took it to the lab to test it. When the pathologist returned he remarked that it was benign. The surgeon said, "Impossible." The surgeon took another slice from another place in the tumor and sent it with the pathologist to test. The pathologist returned saying, "Benign," and shrugged his shoulders, indicating he couldn't believe it. Then the surgeon said, I"ll take one more slice," which he did, and sent it to be tested.The gynecologist, as he was enthusiastically relating the story to me, remarked, "I was trying to get out of the operating room before the last pathology report was returned because I knew how bad the prognosis was and I was sure the pathology report was going to be bad this time. When the pathologist returned and said, 'Benign,' again the operating room erupted in cheers and clapping from all of the nurses and doctors." He kept repeating that he had neither seen nor heard of that kind of demonstration of happiness in an operating room. I knew that the elation was in response to the joy of the unseen angels who were packing the room. In the car on the way home I was thanking God about the healing and the only child experience. I began to question him if maybe the tumor was not malignant, after all. As only He can lovingly state in His firm but kind way, He said, "I don't waste that much power on something that's benign." That's one of those times when I said, "Yes, sir, you are right." It only took two subsequent visits to the surgeon's office for him to check the absorption of the tumor into my body before it was completely gone. I had to restrain myself from telling him the entire story about the healing. I was impressed by God that from the doctor's perspective he already knew he had seen a miracle, but to give voice to it would cause him to begin to reason about it and experience unbelief. He needed to ponder it in his heart for a while. I loved being an only child for a day. Of course God didn't neglect any of His other children while he made me feel like an only child. He's able to make everyone feel like an only child, and he can make all of us feel that way at the same time because He is love.Thank you for allowing me to tell my exciting story about moving and shaking with God.
photo called "Gentle Pink for the Cure" from NatashaP at www.flickr.com



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Blog Archive¥ 2008 (1) ¥ January (1) Sunday, December 2, 2007 TWO MINUTES FROM DEATH ... ► 2007 (9) ► October (3) Seasons at MeMe and Gramps Moving and Shaking With God Heaven in Cinncinati ► September (2) LEONARD, THE CHARACTER The Lazarus Rose Bush ► August (4) IN PRAISE OF GOD AND MOTHER Many Thanks to You God and Beverly..... The Praying Azalea Tree Tobit, Tobiah and Tommye

Two Minutes From Death

Sunday, December 2, 2007
TWO MINUTES FROM DEATH

In the ice storm of January, 2007, in Muskogee, Oklahoma, our family experienced a miracle, one that brings gasps from others who hear it.Large trees were covered with four to five inches of ice. Small trees and bushes that were still standing were so laden with ice that their branches touched the ground, frozen there in most cases.The air was full of eerie sounds. Trees were exploding from within because of the weight of the ice on them, resulting in sounds like those in a war zone. No trees or bushes were spared. Huge limbs were hitting houses and cars, crushing them underneath.My husband decided to try to leave our house and venture to get extra gasoline to power our small generator in case the power lines broke and we would be left without electricity. He ventured out to the driveway amidst the devastation and got in our van, carefully driving down our long driveway to the city streets. Trees and limbs were crashing down all around him.Just as he pulled out of the driveway and drove up the small hill in front of our house, I heard another loud explosion from our back yard. The top half of our huge century old oak tree came crashing down onto the exact spot where our van had been previously parked with my husband at the wheel as he warmed up the van. The van would have been crushed with my husband inside had he not exited the driveway at the exact time that he did. Or, even worse, my husband would have been crushed to death while he was cleaning the ice off of the windshield of the van.The driveway was impassable when My husband came back home. When he saw the six feet tall pile of ice laden wood from the trunk and limbs of the huge tree where he had been a very short time before, he was thankful that he had escaped death for himself and avoided destruction of the van. He was two minutes from death.Thank God for his protection.