While in the grocery store checkout line some months ago, I ran into a friend I hadn’t seen in a while. We conversed briefly across the aisle while checking out. Before leaving, we continued our conversation away from the cash registers.

“How are you feeling?” I asked, knowing she was recovering from a near fatal case of Covid a year earlier with fatigue and significant hair loss.

“This is a wig,” she informed me as she stroked the blonde hair that resembled her real golden locks. She told me that her hair still hadn’t fully grown back in. I was surprised that she was still dealing with such a traumatic side effect.

“Why don’t we pray about your hair?” I asked. I put my arm on her shoulder as we bowed our heads, oblivious to the activity around us.

I don’t remember my exact words except that I asked God to restore her hair. We hugged, said our goodbyes, and left the store as if what we had just done was an ordinary occurrence.

This incident reminded me of another situation a year earlier while out of town. I had given a copy of my memoir, “The Road to Mercy,” to a waitress. At the restaurant a few days later, she told me she had read my book.

“Your story gave me hope,” she said. “I feel like I need to tell you mine.”

She told me that when she was a child her mother sold her for sex to supply her drug habit. She had kept that secret for years and had only recently told her father.

“I’m so sorry,” I said as I wiped away my tears. I wrapped my arms around her and began to pray quietly. We had a brief conversation about her current life. She thanked me for the prayer, and quickly got back to her duties. I was grateful my transformation from an early life of pain had given her hope.

These two are just a sampling of the encounters I’ve had. One time I even prayed with a nurse in the pre-op room before my operation. I had briefly shared some of my testimony with her, and she asked me to pray for her.

Throughout the bible, God encourages us to pray. In I Thessalonians, God says to “…pray continually.” And James 5:13 says, “Is any one of you in trouble? He should pray.” It doesn’t have to be limited to praying in church, or at home. We can pray at work or in our cars. We can pray by ourselves or we can pray with others. We can pray out loud or we can pray silently as God can hear our thoughts. God wants to hear from us any time, day or night. He never sleeps, and He’s always open for “business.”

God will give us divine appointments. We just need to act on them. And just one little encounter could possibly change someone’s life.

As I prepare to celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ, I wonder how many are aware that the Bible traces his lineage from Joseph all the way back to Abraham, encompassing over 2,000 years.

Of particular note is Jesus’ ancestor Rahab.

In the Old Testament book of “Joshua,” God shows Joshua the land he promised to the Israelites, including Jericho. Joshua sends two spies to Jericho to look over the land. They end up lodging at Rahab the harlot’s house. When word gets back to the King of Jericho that two Israeli spies are lodging at Rahab’s, he sends men to Rahab requesting she turn over the spies. She tells the King’s men that the Israelites have already left, but she’s actually hidden them. The King’s men take off in hot pursuit of the spies.

Rahab then turns to the Israelites and tells them she has heard of their God who dried up the Red Sea for them to cross over and escape Pharoah’s army who had them cornered, among other great feats. She continues in Joshua 2:11-12: “…for the Lord your God is God in heaven above and on the earth below. Now then, please swear to me by the Lord that you will show kindness to my family, because I have shown kindness to you….” The Israelites agree to spare her life and the life of her family if she doesn’t tell anyone about them and what they were doing. They instruct her to tie a scarlet rope outside her window, so that when they return to take the land, they will see the rope and all within will be spared. And so it happened just as they promised.

Rahab, the former harlot, now a believer in the God of the Israelites, ends up marrying one of the Israelites named Salmon. They have a son named Boaz, a main character in the Old Testament book of “Ruth.” Boaz marries Ruth and they have a son named Obed, who had a son named Jesse. Jesse becomes the father of King David, the notable biblical character who God describes as a man after his own heart.

Because Rahab heard and believed that the Israelites’ God was the one true God, had the courage to spare the lives of the spies and follow their orders, she is transformed from Rahab the harlot to Rahab, the great-great-grandmother of King David. She became a hero for saving the Israeli spies, a “superstar” that helped shape the course of Israeli history. Her lineage, courage, faith and actions are mentioned in the New Testament three times.

Like Rahab, once we turn to Christ, God forgets our past. How much more should we do the same for ourselves and others.

Luke 19:10 says, “For the son of man came to seek and to save that which was lost.” We too are to be like Christ, seeking and saving those who are lost, so that God can rewrite their story. I’m so glad he rewrote mine.

The housing market over the last couple of years is one to be remembered. Similar in many ways to what we have experienced before. The pandemic and other factors contributed to the shortage of available houses on the market, causing the crisis.

Homes are listing for thousands of dollars above what they would have been listed for just a few years earlier. In many cases, sellers are receiving offers tens of thousands above the asking price. All in a matter of a few hours or a few days.

Desperate buyers are resorting to various measures to have their offers accepted. Some potential buyers are writing letters to the sellers explaining why they would be the perfect owners for their dream home. Sellers who normally would receive several offers during opening weekend are now receiving dozens. Some of the offers include waiving the inspection where any potential defects would normally be spotted and requested to be repaired. Others are offering the sellers the ability to stay in the home free for months after closing. Bidders offering the “extras” in their offers are winning over the highest bidders.

In some cases, potential buyers are lining up in their cars around the block for the latest mid-price range house placed on the market waiting for the doors to open. Buyers are trying to find sellers before houses are listed.

I remember when we bought our first home thirty-two years ago. It had been on the market for a year without any offers. The day we went to look at it, the realtor never showed up. It was a lovely home that was move-in ready. I couldn’t understand why it hadn’t sold earlier, especially since it was in the mid-price range. Perhaps because it was a tri-level ranch, which wasn’t in vogue at the time. We purchased the home directly from the owner with no realtor’s fee. Happy seller, happy buyer. We lived in that home for twenty-five years.

When we went looking for our second home in a highly sought-after neighborhood, we were interested in one that had also been on the market for a year. The owner had even lowered the price multiple times. Once again, I couldn’t figure out why it hadn’t sold. Perhaps it was the sunken living room. We made an offer the first day, have lived in it for the past seven years, and have no intentions of moving again.

Each time we looked for a home, I prayed that God would guide us to the home where He wanted us to live. I believe He put us exactly where He wanted us each time.

Acts 17:26 says: “From one man he made every nation of men, that they should inhabit the whole earth; and he determined the times set for them and the exact places where they should live.”

If we ask, God will guide us to where He wants us to live. Housing crisis or not.

According to some studies, fear of public speaking is man’s number one fear, second only to death. I can relate. I have always been an introvert, and terrified of public speaking. The only time I spoke standing in front of a group of people was in the ninth grade when I gave a book report. I stammered, trembled, and sweated throughout my speech and vowed to never speak publicly again. Somehow I would find a way of escape.

Since then, I’ve been thrown into the limelight several times to share my testimony. In 2001 I was interviewed for The 700 Club Christian television program. Their film crew came to our home. I was still nervous even though I was in my own surroundings and would be sitting during the interview. When the episode aired, I was relieved that I appeared calm. The episode was a success, and they requested a second interview the following year.

Ten years later I was asked to speak at a Christian women’s luncheon. For the event I would have to stand in front of an audience of approximately 80 women. Still terrified, the ministry’s founder accommodated me and scheduled one of their volunteers, who previously had her own tv talk show, to help me. She would  interview me in front of the audience much like when I was on The 700 Club. I had found my way of escape. Despite my nerves, the audience laughed several times and gave me a standing ovation. Two years later, they asked me to return.

Several years ago, I wrote my memoir, “The Road to Mercy.” I knew this was going to present a future problem. Public speaking. I self-published anyway, believing somehow I would find a way around it.

Recently I was asked to speak to a small group about my book. For this event, we would be sitting in a circle when I spoke. Still I was apprehensive. When I expressed my fear to the group’s host, she also offered to interview me during the event. “I need to put on my big girl pants,” I told her. “I would like to do it by myself.”

I expressed my fear to my husband and two of my friends who gave me words of advice. The day before the event I recalled some of their words. I’m going to go into the meeting with faith instead of fear, be myself, and have fun!

And so I did. My audience laughed at times, while a few wiped away tears during others. They applauded at the end. Afterwards, I felt I had accomplished a major feat. And much to my amazement, I had fun!

2 Corinthians 12:9 says: “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness. Therefore, I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.”

I’ve yet to stand in front of an audience since the ninth grade. But when I do, I hope to put that same formulaic advice into practice and have fun.

Eight years ago I fell in love all over again, but not with my husband of twenty-three years. This was a new kind of love I found after we adopted our first dog.

It was a life changing event that was my husband’s idea after I retired. I resisted his suggestion. I didn’t want the extra work, nor did I want to get up early to take out a dog. I didn’t dislike dogs. But working long hours for many years, I just didn’t have the time for them. Over the years I’ve rescued many lost dogs I found on the side of the road, running in the street, or running around our neighborhood and reunited them with their owners. I thought it rather odd when their owners talked baby talk to them as if they were their human children.

After weeks of discussion, resistance, and prayer, I agreed to my husband’s request. We ended up adopting a three-year-old shih tzu and named her Fergie. I don’t remember how long it took me to fall in love with her, but I did. I treated her as if she was my own little baby. Every day I brushed her hair and fashioned it in bows I made for her. She even let me brush her teeth. We took her everywhere and let her sleep with us. She was the sweetest, gentlest, most chilled out dog we ever met. She slept late, rarely barked, and was no trouble at all.

I willingly got up early each summer morning to take her out before it got too hot since she hated the heat. It didn’t take me long before I was talking baby talk to her. I never had any human children, but I would have done anything for Fergie, as if she was my human child. After she was diagnosed with an aggressive cancer, we went to great lengths to save her life. Now she’s no longer with us and it’s still hard for me to talk about her without crying.

I’ve read stories of those who have visited heaven and returned. Some of them tell of seeing their pets while in heaven. I certainly hope that’s true.

Three weeks ago we adopted a nine-year-old shih tzu named Prissy. She was scared at first, not knowing why she is with us, but she’s settling in just fine. Soon she will realize that she is in her forever home.

When we accept God’s son, Jesus Christ, he adopts us, just like we adopted Fergie and Prissy. And God has prepared a forever home for us too, in heaven.

John 14:2 says, “In my Father’s house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you may also be where I am.”

I look forward to seeing my precious Fergie once again someday. Until then, we have a new love in our lives. All ten pounds of her.

It’s almost Christmas. “Gingle Bells,” “I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas,” and many other popular Christmas songs are being played in the background of every store. “It’s a Wonderful Life” will soon be on tv. But don’t worry, if you miss it the first time, it will be shown again and again.

And then there’s the oh so many parties with an overabundance of food and drink, to be followed by weeks of dieting. After all, it’s the most wonderful time of the year. At least for some. But, not for others.

Growing up, I was one of those ‘others.’ My family was too poor to provide much in the way of gifts. Some of what we received was donated by our local church. But then for years, my aunt would travel three hours to our home in upstate New York bearing gifts of pajamas, toys and candy. Those were the Merry Christmases. But then she stopped visiting when I was about twelve. The Christmas gifts we received were once again those donated by our local church.

In my early twenties, I was longing to be married. At Christmas it seemed everyone either had a spouse, or a special someone to celebrate the holidays with and to spoil them with Christmas gifts. Afterward, they would brag about all the gifts they received. This made the holidays more difficult.

When I was twenty-six, and still single, I experienced my saddest Christmas ever. It was the first Christmas without my younger brother who died nine months earlier unexpectedly from a viral infection that attacked his heart. But we decided to celebrate Christmas in spite of that loss. I had had my family over that day for dinner and to exchange gifts. But once they left, I was back to being sad on Christmas. I knew it wasn’t just because of my brother’s death, or because there were only a few gifts underneath the tree, but because the emptiness inside seemed overwhelming. Something was missing.

That evening as I lay in bed, I remembered a conversation I recently had with a friend who had just become a Christian. I pondered what she told me about the real meaning of Christmas. It was something I was taught while attending religious elementary school. She reminded me that God gave His greatest gift to every one of us two thousand years ago with the birth of his Son. Right then and there I gave my life to Christ, the one who gave his life for me. It was the absolute turning point in my life, and it hasn’t been the same since.

Christmas holds new meaning for me. Not because I’ve been married for thirty-one years and no longer spend it alone. Or because I know I’ll see my brother again someday when I go to Heaven. But because I’ve received the greatest gift of all.

Luke 2:10-11 says, “I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David, a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord.”

No monetary gift can top that.

Every Thanksgiving across this nation there are annual traditional foot races, commonly referred to as “turkey trots.” I’m sure you’re familiar with them or may have even participated in one.

Many years ago, my twin, Chrissy, who was an avid runner and participated in many races for several years, asked me to join her in the annual turkey trot in Upstate New York. This race was a tradition in the area since 1916 and is now one of the largest races in the United States. It features both a 5k (3.1 miles) and a 10k race. My sister was registered for the 5K.

I was a Christian for a little less than a year at the time. As someone who still smoked a pack and a half of cigarettes per day for the previous seven years, and who had never jogged, let alone run a race, balked at the idea. Besides, Thanksgiving was only five days away! My sister was persistent however and I finally relented with only three days to prepare.

For the next three days I arose early, donned my warmest attire, and braved the frigid morning temperatures. I barely completed a mile the first day, huffing and puffing along the way. By the third day, I pushed myself and made it a half mile further, still quite short of the 3.1 miles.

Race day arrived, and I very nervous. I was sure I wouldn’t be able to finish the race and would be humiliated. Why did I let Chrissy talk me into this?

When they yelled “Go!” we took off, but I paced myself. I couldn’t keep up with my sister, and it seemed everyone was passing me by. I was confident I could finish the first mile as I had done so the previous three days. Each step of my snail-paced jog grew harder and harder and so did my breathing. By the end of the second mile my sister was long gone and most everyone had passed me. My smoking habit (which I gave up a few years after that race) had clearly made the effort more difficult. I prayed I would be able to finish.

I thought for sure I had reached the limit of my ability during the last mile, but somehow got a second wind. My pace grew slower and slower, but I was determined to make it over the finish line. Chrissy and bystanders were cheering me on. “You’re almost there!” someone shouted. “You can do this!” yelled another. I could see my goal a short distance away. With sheer exhaustion, I crossed the finished line. In last place! But I was so happy. I was grinning from cheek to cheek. I had completed what to me was a monumental task. To someone else I may have looked like a loser, but to me I won. My aspirations were never of winning, only finishing.

That 5K race reminds me a lot of a Christian’s journey. Sometimes the road is rough, and we may be tempted to give up the faith, but if we persevere, God will see us through. And with the help of our friends by our side to encourage us and cheer us on, we can make it.

Hebrews 12:1 says, “Let us run with perseverance, the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith.”

http://www.americanbookfest.com/religion.html

War Hero

Veteran’s Day is right around the corner. Do you have a favorite war hero? I do. I’m surprised I was never taught about him in school. Instead, I found out about him through a biographical film, “Hacksaw Ridge.” To me he’s one of the greatest war heroes of all time. Once you learn about him, I don’t think you will ever forget his name. Desmond Doss.

Desmond was a Christian whose personal and religious beliefs prevented him from using a weapon. After the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor, he wanted to serve his country by saving lives as a combat medic. He enlisted in the Army even though he worked as a ship joiner in the Newport News shipyard and could have received a deferment.

The Army refused this scrawny 145 lb., 5’8″ Virginian’s request to serve as a medic, assigning him to a rifle company. There Desmond was hated by his fellow soldiers, who taunted him not just because he refused to touch a weapon, but also because he read the bible every day and refused to work on the Sabbath.

During basic training, his officers tried various tactics to get him to either quit or request a transfer out of their battalion, even to the point of charging him with mental instability. A hearing was held to decide his fate, and he was granted his request to serve as a combat medic.

Desmond’s battalion was sent to the Pacific Theater during the Battle of Okinawa. They were assigned to take an escarpment appropriately named “Hacksaw Ridge” because of the high death rate of those who tried to take it. During that horrific battle, many of his comrades were wounded and some were killed. Defeat seemed inevitable as they faced heavy artillery, mortar and machine gun fire. They were ordered to retreat, and hurriedly climbed back down the 350′ escarpment leaving the wounded and dead behind facing inevitable capture or death.

But Desmond disobeyed his commander. He stayed behind and crawled from soldier to soldier to tend to their wounds under heavy gunfire. Working alone all through the night under fire, he dragged them one by one to the edge of the ridge, tied a rope around them, and lowered them to safety below. Some of the men in his battalion at the bottom of the ridge saw what he was doing. They released the men from the rope, staying there throughout the night as Desmond worked tirelessly asking God to help him.

Exhausted, especially for a man of his small stature, he asked God to help him. Over the course of 12 hours, he ended up rescuing all 75 of his men, even the deceased, leaving no man behind including his injured Captain. These were the same men who taunted him, called him a coward, and fought so hard to get rid of him.

Desmond’s heroism won the respect of his fellow soldiers. In fact, they later refused to go into battle without him, allowing him time to pray and read his bible beforehand.

John 15:13 says “Greater love hath no man than he lay down his life for his friends.” That’s exactly what Desmond did that night, risking his life for his comrades every moment he stayed on that ridge under enemy fire. Desmond was awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor for his heroic efforts, including multiple Bronze stars and Purple Hearts during his heroic service in other battles. He has since passed away, but I’m sure he had even greater rewards waiting for him in heaven.

It’s that time of year again—football season. At my house, it’s all football all the time on the television. My husband is a huge fan. I join him on rare occasions during a big game. I don’t dislike football. I just have other things I prefer to do with my time.

One thing I will watch is a good football movie. One of my favorite inspirational sports films is Rudy. I have seen it numerous times, and it always makes me cry. It’s one of the most famous sports films ever made. The film is based on the true story of Rudy Ruettiger, a young man who dreamed of playing football for Notre Dame since he was a child. From time to time he would tell others of his dream, only to be laughed at. With poor grades in school, no money (one of fourteen children), and only 5’6”, Rudy had gigantic obstacles in his path.

During high school Rudy did play football. He joined the Navy after graduation, went to work for the local power plant for a couple of years, and then decided to pursue his dream. He applied to Notre Dame only to be rejected. He attended community college for two years and worked hard at raising his grades. During this time, he persisted in applying to Notre Dame. His fourth attempt was a success.

He didn’t make the football team, but he did make the practice squad. Still, he never gave up. In his senior year, in their final game, the coach put Rudy on the field. He had finally fulfilled his dream and even scored a sack. Beloved by his fellow teammates, he was carried off the field on their shoulders. Almost twenty years later, the now famous film Rudy was born. He travels the country inspiring others with his story.

Rudy reminds me a lot of another young boy who went up against a giant. He’s the famous David who went up against Goliath. He too was laughed at when he accepted Goliath’s challenge. But he didn’t let that stop him. He knew God would give him the victory no matter the odds against him. We all know how that story ends.

I believe we all have a calling. Sometimes it seems unachievable to others who may even laugh at us. But, when God places a calling on our lives and a dream in our hearts, he will help us achieve it. I truly believe that God can make the impossible, possible. Luke 18:27 says, “What’s impossible with man, is possible with God.”

Just like a football player who holds on to the ball for dear life, we need to hold on to what God has put in our hearts and not let go. He will help us overcome each obstacle along the way and get us over the goal line.