Realities of Satan

"Satan was sitting in my living room!"  Sounds like a tabloid headline, huh?  I know, to some of you, what I'm about to say might sound a little crazy.  That's OK-I'm willing to be labeled a nut if it will get my story out there and help at least one other person.

I'm here to tell you, satan is real, and yes, he indeed was sitting in my living room.  Sometimes, my head moves forward before my heart.  A lot of the time that can be a good thing.  But sometimes, it can get me in a lot of trouble.  I met a woman last week, in a support group we both attended.  She chased me down after the meeting, and told me she was homeless and needed a place to stay.  In my heart, I felt I needed to pray about it.  But, my head won out over my heart, and sh came to stay with me that evening.

Almost immediately, two of my dogs became violently ill, and I had a bad headache.  I still hadn't equated it having anything to do with my visitor.  The longer she stayed, the worse things became.  First Samson got sick, then Boss.  The headaches were getting worse and worse.  I needed help.  So I did what I do best- I prayed and asked the Lord for guidance..  I found information online about a drug rehabilitation close to my home, and left to go look for it.  I spent about forty five minutes on the back side of a motor bike, going up and down the road, looking.  Finally, we stopped on the side of the road, and asked someone where it was.  He didn't know, but a man that was walking to work overheard our conversation, and told us it had been shut down.  He then told me that he and his wife operated a rehab, and asked me to join him to check it out.  

So, we went and chatted for a bit.  I found out his name was Benji.  I liked Benji right away.  He was easy to talk to.  He was kind.  He was real.  He spoke the truth, and was non-judgmental.  We ended up just sitting and talking for almost an hour.  He allowed me to freely talk about the cultural stress I had been experiencing, and I was very appreciative of that.

Eventually, we ended up back at the house to talk to my visitor.  During this conversation, a whole different side of her came out.  She was vulnerable.  She was crying.  She revealed some very difficult things she went through in her past.  She told us no one had ever trusted her or given her anything before.  I believed her.  Benji believed her.  We really wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, just as we had been given a long time ago.  After the meeting, we arranged home visits and I walked Benji to the stage.

She was a different person when I came home.  She very suddenly became non compliant with the treatment plan.  She was tearing down Benji, and she was tearing down me.  She looked me in the eye and told me I wasn't qualified for what I was doing.  She tried desperately to confuse me.  She twisted my words.  And she pointed out every single thing she thought was wrong with me.  She tried to convince me that only she had authority and she knew what she was talking about.  It was like I was in a trance.  I literally had to say to her I was no longer participating in the conversation, and I had to leave.  I received guidance from a loving and trusted friend, and I asked her to leave.  As we were walking down the road, she kept trying to confuse me.  She kept trying to go back because she claimed she forgot something.  In the mean time, i felt like I had the armor of God protecting me as none of what she was trying to do had any effect.  I could see the frustration in her eyes and on her face as she was realizing what she was trying to do was not working anymore.  I don't think Benji knows how much he helped me today.

Things immediately changed for the better now that she's gone.  My headaches are gone.  The dogs are as good as new.  Even Annabelle the goat is giving milk again.  It seems calm and serene in the house once again, and that's the way it should be.  After she left, i learned from my house manager than another woman who was visiting this week had only spent a few minutes with this woman, and she knew there was something evil about her.  I learned that this woman had screamed at my house girl, threatened to beat her, and threatened to hurt her if she told me.  And I'm sure there are things I still don't know about.  I'm going to have to rethink my strategy for admitting women to Sophie's Place.  I'm going to be needing people who have gone before me to advise me and guide me.  And I definitely still need people praying for me.  Without a doubt it was  very scary experience.  But I'm choosing to focus on the fact that, for satan to actually come into my home, I must be doing something very right.  I have to be going on the right path.  I learned today that God's grace, mercy and love is all I need to face my fears, and move forward in His plan for me to share His love, mercy and grace.

The Realities of Satan

"Satan was sitting in my living room!"  Sounds like a tabloid headline, huh?  I know, to some of you, what I'm about to say might sound a little crazy.  That's OK-I'm willing to be labeled a nut if it will get my story out there and help at least one other person.

I'm here to tell you, satan is real, and yes, he indeed was sitting in my living room.  Sometimes, my head moves forward before my heart.  A lot of the time that can be a good thing.  But sometimes, it can get me in a lot of trouble.  I met a woman last week, in a support group we both attended.  She chased me down after the meeting, and told me she was homeless and needed a place to stay.  In my heart, I felt I needed to pray about it.  But, my head won out over my heart, and sh came to stay with me that evening.

Almost immediately, two of my dogs became violently ill, and I had a bad headache.  I still hadn't equated it having anything to do with my visitor.  The longer she stayed, the worse things became.  First Samson got sick, then Boss.  The headaches were getting worse and worse.  I needed help.  So I did what I do best- I prayed and asked the Lord for guidance..  I found information online about a drug rehabilitation close to my home, and left to go look for it.  I spent about forty five minutes on the back side of a motor bike, going up and down the road, looking.  Finally, we stopped on the side of the road, and asked someone where it was.  He didn't know, but a man that was walking to work overheard our conversation, and told us it had been shut down.  He then told me that he and his wife operated a rehab, and asked me to join him to check it out.  

So, we went and chatted for a bit.  I found out his name was Benji.  I liked Benji right away.  He was easy to talk to.  He was kind.  He was real.  He spoke the truth, and was non-judgmental.  We ended up just sitting and talking for almost an hour.  He allowed me to freely talk about the cultural stress I had been experiencing, and I was very appreciative of that.

Eventually, we ended up back at the house to talk to my visitor.  During this conversation, a whole different side of her came out.  She was vulnerable.  She was crying.  She revealed some very difficult things she went through in her past.  She told us no one had ever trusted her or given her anything before.  I believed her.  Benji believed her.  We really wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, just as we had been given a long time ago.  After the meeting, we arranged home visits and I walked Benji to the stage.

She was a different person when I came home.  She very suddenly became non compliant with the treatment plan.  She was tearing down Benji, and she was tearing down me.  She looked me in the eye and told me I wasn't qualified for what I was doing.  She tried desperately to confuse me.  She twisted my words.  And she pointed out every single thing she thought was wrong with me.  She tried to convince me that only she had authority and she knew what she was talking about.  It was like I was in a trance.  I literally had to say to her I was no longer participating in the conversation, and I had to leave.  I received guidance from a loving and trusted friend, and I asked her to leave.  As we were walking down the road, she kept trying to confuse me.  She kept trying to go back because she claimed she forgot something.  In the mean time, i felt like I had the armor of God protecting me as none of what she was trying to do had any effect.  I could see the frustration in her eyes and on her face as she was realizing what she was trying to do was not working anymore.  I don't think Benji knows how much he helped me today.

Things immediately changed for the better now that she's gone.  My headaches are gone.  The dogs are as good as new.  Even Annabelle the goat is giving milk again.  It seems calm and serene in the house once again, and that's the way it should be.  After she left, i learned from my house manager than another woman who was visiting this week had only spent a few minutes with this woman, and she knew there was something evil about her.  I learned that this woman had screamed at my house girl, threatened to beat her, and threatened to hurt her if she told me.  And I'm sure there are things I still don't know about.  I'm going to have to rethink my strategy for admitting women to Sophie's Place.  I'm going to be needing people who have gone before me to advise me and guide me.  And I definitely still need people praying for me.  Without a doubt it was  very scary experience.  But I'm choosing to focus on the fact that, for satan to actually come into my home, I must be doing something very right.  I have to be going on the right path.  I learned today that God's grace, mercy and love is all I need to face my fears, and move forward in His plan for me to share His love, mercy and grace.

The Various Facets of Starvation

As much as I can figure, there are two facets of starvation.  The first facet, physical, we are all familiar with.  All we need to do is walk down the street, and we see several poignant examples of physical starvation in one city block.  The second facet of starvation is not so obvious.  It is one that is dangerously ignored with far too much frequency.  I'm talking about spiritual and psychological starvation.  Just because the belly is full, doesn't mean the same can be said for the heart and the soul.  How many times have you carelessly dropped a coin or two into a cup without actually getting down on the ground with the cup holder to pray for him or her?  How many times have you offered and unkind or harsh word for someone who hurt you, instead of prayer?  How many times have you clung onto past hurts, only to replay and act out those hurt feelings on other innocent people?

I'll be the first to admit, I have fell into this trap more times than I can count.  Very recently, someone I trusted hurt me very deeply.  Her behavior made me very angry, and bitter.  I wanted to hurt her, at least just as much if not more, than she hurt me.  There were many opportunities for me to do so, and I was chomping at the bit to just partake in one of them.  I'm here to say, I'm still struggling with this bitterness, and I'm still struggling with feelings of wanting to hurt her.  This bitterness and anger has been coming out sideways, onto innocent people who had absolutely no idea of my past hurts.  I'm living the greatest adventure of my life living in Africa.  But, it's also the hardest place I've ever lived.  I envy people who say its a breeze and don't seem to see or experience the issues I face.  Sometimes, I find myself starving for understanding, when all I can really do is accept the situation.  I find myself starving for acceptance of my behavior, and I have to accept that I am surrounded by people who can't sympathize or empathize with me because they have been behaving differently all of their lives.  I still have a difficult time wrapping my brain around the fact that scores of children are dying from common childhood illnesses that are easily cured in the US, because they are being denied medication simply because their parents can't afford it.  It's hard.  But, the beauty of the situation is this:  when I am spiritually and/or psychologically starving, when I feel lost, when I feel broken, I can turn it over to God.  No matter what I've said, done thought or felt, when I turn to Him, I am welcomed with open arms at His bountiful table, and I am filled up with His love, His mercy, and His grace.  Unlike the physical starvation that can never really be quelled, the cessation of spiritual starvation is immediate.  So, ladies and gentlemen may I have your attention please: STOP focusing solely on the physical starvation.  Focus instead on filling yourself up with the Holy Spirit.  Rely on Him for your daily recommended intake of doses of spirituality.  Don't just put coins in the cup.  Tell the person God loves them.  Don't turn away from your enemy with a bitter heart, and don't spoke to him or her with a harsh tongue.  Tell him you will pray for him.  Tell the people you're helping about God, what He has done for You, and what He can do for others.  If given the choice, I would rather be physically than spiritually starving.  Keep yourself spiritually satisfied in food of the Holy Spirit, and share Him with others.  Unlike earthly food, there is always more than enough spiritual food to share, and everyone who receives it comes away satisfied and full.

Martyrdom

When I first began my journey of healing several years ago, the word "martyr" was thrown around a lot.  I hated it.  I felt offended and angry when people referred to me as a martyr.  I refused, as they say, to see the forest for the trees and focused on how it hurt me, not on how my behavior was affecting others.

Lately, the word "martyr" has been coming up again.  Not by anyone else, but by the realizations the Holy Spirit has shard with me about my behavior.  For me, the term "martyr" has always been a difficult concept to understand.  I always assumed being a martyr was a good thing.  I thought that it showed a lot of love for people when you sacrifice your own personal peace and happiness for the good of someone else.  As of late, I'm beginning to realize that is not exactly true. I've been feeling "off" lately.  I still do the things I've always done, but not with as much enthusiasm or joy.  My work at the hospital has really been bringing me down.  In the past three months, we've lost six innocent children to a vile, ugly, disgusting disease known as cancer.  It's been hard.  It's been emotionally draining.  And it's been negatively affecting the way I've lived my life outside of the hospital.  I can't deny anymore that it hasn't.  When it came to my patients I have, in every sense, been a martyr.  I've needed to take a break from the hospital for a long time, but my perceived loyalties to my patients, my ministry, and my supporters has prevented me from doing so.  I've since realized these were only excuses, and the only real loyalties I have are to take care of myself so I can help others.    That said, I'm taking an extended leave of absence from the hospital for spiritual, psychological, and physical respite.  Satan has tried his best to convince me that he has won, as I am going to be spending time away from the hospital, like he's always wanted me to do.  But, the Holy Spirit, in His infinite and powerful wisdom, has helped me realize that satan has absolutely not won.  If I keep going the way I've been going, he will have won.  The depression, anger and burn out I've felt in regards to my work at the hospital was beginning to consume my entire life.  I wasn't focusing on other parts of my ministry I'd like to see build and grow, and I was neglecting my other responsibilities.  It wasn't just affecting me; it was affecting others who depend on me and the services my ministry provides.  it's been a tough month.  However, I'm looking at it in a positive light.  As with any difficult situation, the lessons come with the experience and living.  Many times, we go through difficult situations because we can't learn what we need to learn any other way.  There's much to be learned in experiencing this situation.  I need to take care of myself before I can take care of anyone else.  If I ever feel like I am doing something out of obligation and it is damaging me in some way, I need to step away and take a break.  I need to start practicing what I preach and realize it's OK to take respite when things are rough.  For these lessons, I am truly grateful.

Wanted to Believe......

This past weekend, I visited the children in the cancer ward.  It was the first time I had visited since little Pendo passed away.  I wanted to believe that it wouldn't be a problem for me going back.  In fact, I didn't have any negative feelings going to the ward at all.....

Then I got there.  I acted my usual silly, goofy, funny self, loving on the kids, playing with them, and showing God's love for them.  But something was a little off that day.  I had brought a volunteer with me, and while I was giving her a tour, I went by all of the places Pendo and I shared our time together.  Although in my mind I know she has gone, I could see her in her bed, fighting for her life.  That day another one of my little ones was having a difficult time, undergoing painful and frightening treatments.  I'll be honest, as I was holding him and comforting him, the one thought I had was: how much longer can I do this?  How much longer can I stand idly by and hear their screams, and watch them die?  How much longer?

The quick answer is: for as long as I have to.  This is hard.  I know too darn many of these children.  Even though I know to be with the Lord was ultimately what was best for them, I miss them so much.  I feel like I am forever in various stages of the grieving process.  Just when I think I have it licked, another child dies.  It's a difficult, never ending cycle with no beginning and no end.  I just thank God that I have a strong support system of therapists, fiends, and chosen family to support me through the difficult times through prayer and fellowship.  God knows I can't do this alone.

I Chose to Live

I don't remember much about the day I had my accident; mainly because, through the grace of God, I was unconscious through most of it.  The only information I have of the incident is what has been relayed to me first hand.  I don't remember what season it was, but I do remember it was a cold night in Indiana.  Armed with my little chihuahua in my backpack, I was riding my moped without wearing a helmet.  Apparently, I attempted to drive through a yellow light that has just turned red as I was going through the intersection.  A woman driving a mini van on the opposite side of the intersection didn't see me, and proceeded to continue on through the green light after coming off of the highway.  I t-boned her on the passenger side of the vehicle.  My head hit the window, and I blacked out instantly.

The next thing I remember was sitting in a field with my father, Peter, who had died of cancer several years earlier.  The field was on a cliff, and it was overlooking the largest and most beautiful lake I had ever seen.  For a while we didn't speak; we enjoyed watching the sunset in the silence and tranquility of the moment.  My father looked more peaceful than I had ever remembered him to be.  He still wore the same glasses he had worn almost his entire adult life, but only so I would be able to recognize him.  He had no need for them where we were, other than for me to know who he was.  He looked at me and told me I had a choice.  I could stay where we were and be with him and God, or I could go back to where I had been.  He told me God still had a lot of work for me to do.  But if I chose to stay where I was, that was alright, too.  I could stay and be welcomed without anger, disappointment, or malice.  I asked him, if I returned, how it would be for me.  I didn't want to live in a vegetative state, mentally incapacitated, or paralyzed.  Dad said he couldn't tell me how it was going to be for me.  But no matter what happened, I would still have the ability to fulfill God's purpose for me and share God's love, mercy and grace with others who desperately needed it.  I loved my father very much and missed him terribly.  It would have been so easy for me to choose to stay with him and be with God.  But in my heart, I knew the right decision to make.  From personal experience, I knew what it was like to be redeemed in God's love, mercy and grace from the absolute pit of self-pity, depression, and emotional hell.  The only way I knew to thank God for saving me was to honor His request to be His vessel in doing the same for others.  I embraced my father, savoring the moment of feeling small again in his loving and protective arms.  I whispered that I would see him again, and I made my decision.

The doctor couldn't believe he was talking to me.  I hit my head twice; once on the window and once on the pavement.  In both instances, I hit my head on the spot where a head can be hit with no lasting or permanent affects.  I had no broken bones, or internal injuries.  I wasn't paralyzed.  The only lasting effect was a few staples in my scalp.  I still carry the scar to this day, and I don't mind.  It's a permanent reminder of the day the Lord blessed me with a choice.  When times are especially hard, it's there to remind me of the decision I made and motivates me to continue moving forward.  I am convinced that if I had chosen to stay with my father, I wouldn't have lived through the incident.  But that's not the decision I made.  I chose to honor God, despite my fear of the consequences of my actions.  I chose to live.

Christine

The house seems to be a little more quiet and empty without Christine.  There was a lot of time, money and effort involved in having Christine in my home, but I wouldn't trade the experience for anything.  I miss her.  It broke my heart having to return her to her home in the slums.  The anger, guilt and grief were so acute that it was difficult for me to function.  All I really could do was pray.  I prayed for a day or two about the situation, and asked others to pray for me and for Christine as well.  I actually had contemplated bringing Christine to Sophie's Place to live until she died.  Ultimately, the Lord helped me come to the decision to continue giving Christine hospice care in her own home.  It wasn't an easy decision to make.  It would have been so easy for me to just swoop down like a superhero, gather her up and bring her here.  But in my heart, I knew that was not what God wanted.  I didn't know why God didn't want that for her.  For a while, satan was beating on my ego and trying to convince me that the reason God didn't want her here was because God felt I couldn't handle it, or because I was selfish and didn't want the responsibility.  I do admit that part of my decision was based on the fact that it would be very difficult and risky for me to have a Kenyan die in my home.  Part of me was afraid of the ramifications and backlash.  However, as always, God's amazing love and grace helped me see the bigger picture beyond myself and my circumstances.  Once again I have humbly learned, it's not all about me.
Christine is now going to have a myriad of women, all different ages and different walks of life, bringing all different kinds of gifts and talents, surrounding her, loving her, praying for her, and supporting her.  Women from all over the world will come to share God's love, mercy and grace.  If I am to be completely honest, I don't believe Christine could have received the full magnitude of benefits from the experience if she had stayed at Sophie's.
Every single encounter I have with a dying person brings with it a wealth of knowledge and insight that is more valuable to me than any other gift I have ever received.  I was so angry when the hospital refused to admit Christine.  I knew God had a reason, but I couldn't see it.  Now I know.  Her body was not meant to be healed; it was her heart and her spirit that needed the healing.  Whatever God chooses for Christine, she will know she is loved.  She will get to experience God's unconditional love in such a way that she couldn't experience any other way than where she is right now.  Christine taught me that we are never alone in our desires to share God's love, mercy and grace to help heal each other.  We are all part of the healing process.  Loneliness and aloneness are very potent and very dangerous tools of satan to deter us from God's plan.  Not only because the task before us might seem daunting and insurmountable.  But also because, in taking on the task ourselves, we readily dismiss the God given gifts and talents of others when we try to do things on our own.  By ignoring the gifts and talents of others, we prevent the Holy Spirit from displaying its full potential of unconditional love, mercy and grace.  Not only for the affected person, but also for the many people involved in the caring and sharing.
This week, the enemy socked me in the stomach with guilt, shame and remorse.  He tried to beat me down.  And he tried to beat Christine down. But, at the end of the day, God's love, mercy and grace won, as it always does, and we are all stronger for the experience. We are all precious in the eyes of the Lord.  To believe anything else is not God's will for us.  Nothing, nothing done in God's favor is ever done in vain.  Absolutely no amount of giving, big small or in between, is ever wasted.  It may not be God's will to heal Christine's body.  But He is healing her heart and her spirit through the unconditional love, mercy and grace of an amazing group of women we are so blessed to have on this earth.
   "Charm is deceitful, and beauty is vain, but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised,"
-Proverbs, 31:30