

Prodigal's Steps:

The True Story of a Family's Desperate  
Flight Back Home

Genovi James
Copyright 2014 Genovi James  
Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever including Internet usage, without written permission of the author.
Table of Contents

Chapter 1: Awake, O sleeper

Chapter 2: Whoever rewards evil

Chapter 3: A King's secret

Chapter 4: The way of Yahweh

Chapter 5: He who troubles his own house

Chapter 6: The way of the wicked

Chapter 7: Instead, we became vain

Chapter 8: Her feet go down to death

Chapter 9: It is a fool's pleasure to do wickedness

Chapter 10: For he adds rebellion to his sin

Chapter 11: A snare will take him

Chapter 12: And if the light in you is darkness

Chapter 13: Woe to you who destroy

Chapter 14: When you have finished destroying

Chapter 15: For how can I endure

Chapter 16: For the sin of their mouth

Chapter 17: Then your light shall break forth

Chapter 18: Behold, Yahweh's eye is on those

Chapter 19: Though I speak, my grief is not subsided.

Chapter 20: Therefore you are without excuse

Chapter 21: You shall not oppress

Chapter 22: before me continually is sickness and wounds

Chapter 23: All his days

Chapter 24: This sickness is not to death

Chapter 25: Two things I have asked

Chapter 26: By your perseverance

Chapter 27: A friend loves

Chapter 28: My son, give me your heart

Chapter 29: Don't be wise in your own eyes

Chapter 30: Depart from evil, and do good

Chapter 31: for I am poor and needy

Chapter 32: In all your ways be mindful of him

Chapter 33: Buy the truth, and don't sell it.

Chapter 34: I will not leave you orphans.

Chapter 35: Not only this

Chapter 36: your ears will hear a voice behind you

Chapter 37: and perseverance, proven character

Chapter 38: but for the glory of God

Chapter 39: Blessed are they who mourn

Chapter 40: and forgive us our sins

Chapter 41: This is the way. Walk in it

Chapter 42: that we should be called children of God

Chapter 43: Go through, go through the gates

Chapter 44: shake off the dust

Chapter 45: but whoever puts his trust in Yahweh

Chapter 46: Better is little, with the fear of Yahweh,

Chapter 47: Blessed is the man who trusts in Yahweh

Chapter 48: Let your light so shine

Chapter 49: But our God is in the heavens.

Chapter 50: Therefore Yahweh will wait

Chapter 51: Blessed are the meek

Chapter 52: You will be saved in returning and rest
Prodigal's Steps

It was a spring day in 2007 when my blinders finally, and completely, fell off. It was the day when my illusory world – the world our culture tells us is 'normal' – came to an end. It was the day I realized that, as we all walk this world, contrary to popular belief – we do not walk alone...
Chapter 1: "Awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give you light. Look carefully how you walk, not as unwise men but as wise, making the most of the time, because the days are evil." (Ephesians 5:14-16)

My dear friend Grace; you know that I often tell people about the amazing journey to wholeness that my family has been through. It has been one miracle after another. Things had gotten so ugly in our home, that we literally were thrust to our knees desperately seeking a way out. The only way that opened was the way of Abraham, the way of Moses, the way of Pilgrims, the way of countless other people of faith who have gone before; the way of the crushed and broken Prodigal. We could no longer stay where and how we were, and survive as a family. We simply had to leave.

Well, 7 long years later, people no longer believe me when I tell them that our children were rebellious; and our home a war zone. They think I am making it up when I say they cursed us, attacked us, ridiculed us, hated us. Our children are now beautiful, faith filled, exuding mercy and grace. Our home is now peaceful, joy filled, exuding laughter and light. In modern terms, it is even 'successful' with young people excitedly embracing caring, professional careers.

And so I blithely tell people – "step out in faith, you never KNOW what God can do!" I tell them that absolutely every good thing in J.J. and my life (and there are innumerable ones) can be traced directly back to a moment in time when we looked at each other and said, "This is the absolutely WORST thing that could have ever happened to us." I believe that this witness gives people hope; gives them a reason to hang on, a reason to try.

But I think I am neglecting something. I think I am neglecting the pain. It is easy to brush it off, to try to forget it, compartmentalize it, celebrate the good and forget – the evil. However – most people I speak to are still living the pain. That is why they are desperate. And so perhaps I should begin to mention it more.

But I am getting ahead of myself.

I had promised you, Grace, that I would write you my story – the story of a mother's hand-to-hand combat against evil, against Satan himself, to save her children. It's the story of the realization that when you fight Satan long enough – you begin to recognize him very well in the battle – BUT only when you are looking through the eyes of faith. Once your eyes are clouded with this world – he disappears into the fog. And that's when you begin to lose...

And so I begin where I last left off in my earlier book. I had originally written it for my family; a family that promptly thought I was nuts. But as St. Paul went to the Gentiles in the hopes that his own people would be brought back to faith – so I am now writing to non-family in hopes that perhaps it might speak to my own. And hope is all I have.

My first book had detailed all the miraculous interventions God had made in my life to open my eyes to really see. It was my first cure of one of the diseases of this modern world – cynicism and belief in the futility of goodness... This was during the time when the children were very small (Jessica was about 10, Colby was about 6, Rachel was about 4 ½ and Sarah was about 1) and I (Genovi (Gen) James) was a young Navy wife trying to make it through constant moves, long deployments (of my 'fighter-pilot' husband Jason (J.J.) James), and even more constant attacks by the enemy. I had grown up as a "New England Catholic" – someone who went to church on Sundays in some vague hope that if this 'God thing' was actually real – then it might be my ticket into heaven. But after God sent an angel to save me, physically, from death; my eyes began to open and my mind began to wonder. Hard to deny the reality of evil, when evil had just tried to claim your life; and hard to refute the reality of goodness – when goodness showed up to save you. So I had prayed for knowledge to know if demons were real. God opened my eyes to see them. I had prayed for knowledge to know if angels were real. God opened my eyes to see them. I was walking with eyes of faith and could see the truth – good and evil – so clearly. I was pouring that faith into my children, and they were excited to live it. Hence, the constant attacks.

At the time, seeing through worldly eyes, I just figured that this was the way life was – very hard. Now I look back through the eyes of faith and see an enraged enemy – angry that I had 'woken up' to the truth, in this world of lies and deception – so angry, in fact, that he was just plain trying to beat me down. But there is one thing, I think, that blindsides Satan; because there is one thing, I think, he just can't understand – Love. I love my children, and hence, the more he attacked them, the more I fought to save them, and the harder I clung to Christ.

Because Christ was all I had.

No money, no family, not even a husband around most of the time. It was Jesus, and me; and I was holding on for dear life. Not much else you can do when you have 2 missing children in 2 years – with search parties, helicopters, swamps and alligators. Or when you have doctors telling you that you need to find your husband (on port call in Spain – sure, no problem doc!) and get him home a.s.a.p. as there is a good chance your child will just not 'make it'. Or even the little inconveniences like broken bones, constant ear infections, emotional distress, and exhaustion... Christ – was ALL – I had. And I gotta tell you; it was hard, but it was also the best time of my life. Clinging to Jesus leaves you clinging to... joy.

And hope.

And love.

Which is a good combination, in a not-so-good world.
Chapter 2: "Whoever rewards evil for good, evil shall not depart from his house." (Proverbs 17:13)

You see, I've come to realize that life would be easier in a Disney movie. In a Disney world, you see 'good' by just looking around, and 'evil' by doing the same. 'Good' looks like a little cottage with the birds, rabbits, mice and Princess singing. Evil looks like the castle of the horrible step mother – dark and foreboding, spooky. There-fore, when deciding where to go, the decision would not be a tough one: "ummmmm, I think I'll avoid the castle and hang out in the cottage!"

Easy.

But "easy" is not found in this world today – whereas in ages past, it was pretty straightforward. Everyone knew what it was to sin, to be on the wrong side of what was right. It was not a guessing game; and people knew that their own choices put them on either of those two sides. They also knew that even though life could be hard and brutish; if you chose to go on the 'evil' side – then it would most likely turn out to be downright brutal AND horrific. Hence, life was usually lived as a life of intent – a life of meaning. And the meaning was not 'how to make money, how to be popular, how to get my "15 minutes" of fame'. The meaning had a higher significance – an eternal one. And so, one's choices mattered. And everyone, everyone, knew that. They saw through the eyes of faith.

However, in the world of today when most all have lost eyes of faith; we accept cultural statements that it is hard to know "evil" and, quite frankly, no one is really all that sure that it even exists anymore. To square that statement with reality, we are next told that no one is really all that good anyway... And if they are trying to be good – then you need to watch them really closely – cause it is just an act. We are told nowadays that not only is no one actually capable of being 'good'; but that no one has ever really BEEN good. All those old stories of purity and honor were nothing but fables or, in other words, lies; lies made to make us think that there was such a thing as 'impurity' and 'dishonor'. But we now know better; 'evil' is simply a word created by intolerant people, and being 'good' just means you are really naïve, and most likely a loser. And those who want to be 'good', and avoid 'evil', are just judgmental haters anyway...

Most people are content to stop there. Without eyes of faith, they reason that – if the culture says it, then it must be true and, quite frankly, it is hard to walk the other road. It is hard to walk the road to life, the road to "good" (or as all once called it: "godly") – especially when it is easier to tell yourself that such divergent paths don't exist. But do we REALLY believe this? Do we really believe that there is no such thing as 'good vs. evil' in this world? Do we actually think we simply have "lifestyle choices" that all must be tolerant of? Because if that's true; if we do believe there is no such thing as good versus evil, then we haven't actually been paying much attention; and we haven't been looking. And if we have; then the problem is that we've lost the will to fight.

For a time, I was one of those naysayers; buffering my belief in the futility of goodness with plain old cynicism. I mean, just look around, people are trying the best they can and who am I to tell them that what they are doing is wrong? I certainly can't 'judge' something as 'evil'; since it's really just human nature with a bad label... That kind of thinking, and vision, squared with the new reality and put me on the right side of society. It's a nice side to travel on; greatly applauded by all of us residing there. We pat ourselves on the backs and congratulate each other on our tolerance and open mindedness. This is most effective; of course, if we blind ourselves to the hell that is the world our children must now walk in. For when you stop calling evil out for what it is, that doesn't mean that it just goes away. Instead, it simply has the freedom to boldly walk among us. And it has the unfettered freedom to prey on the weakest – and who is the weakest among us?

Our children.

The ones we've left completely unprotected in our brave new tolerant world...

Once again, I'm getting ahead of myself. As I noted; without eyes of faith, I had easily bought into our worldly 'all things are good' culture and was whistling a tune in my ignorance-is-bliss little world. Nonetheless, cold hard reality eventually intruded into my life, beginning with my years as that young Navy wife in Florida. Because of that reality, I've come to see that it is not what you are looking at that shows you the truth – but through which eyes you are looking. When you are looking through the eyes of the world – then evil is hard to see because it permeates the world. But when you are looking through the eyes of faith – then it becomes crystal clear – for faith is the night vision goggles, so to speak, for evil. You can finally see the true goodness of the world – and the evil that permeates it like a low hanging fog. Suddenly, it is right there. You see it, you can touch it – and sometimes it reaches out and touches you back. In fact, as I've come to discover, it can downright throw punches.

But that's when you win – if you know how to fight.
Chapter 3. "A King's secret it is prudent to keep, but the works of God are to be declared and made known. Praise them with due honor." (Tobit 12:7)

I first began fighting as that young Navy wife in Florida. At that point, J.J. and I had lived in many different states around the country. Everywhere we had been, for the most part, 'faith' was an accepted part of life. We went to Church each and every Sunday – along with pretty much everyone else. In the Naval Aviation community, you never really knew if, perhaps, this could be your last chance to make it to Church – and hence, it was not something to put off for long... Accidents and deaths among the pilots were pretty darn common. Almost every time the ship went out – somebody did not come back (alive). And so, wherever we had gone in the Military – we had been living among people of faith.

And then we moved to Connecticut.

Once there, I became increasingly frustrated at the lack of faith around me. That was, in large measure, why I wrote my first book – to wake people up to the fact that God walks among us, even when we are not paying attention.

Yet even so, never in a million lifetimes would I have guessed that within 2 short years after releasing that book; I would be back at the little cottage in Prince Edward Island that I had written about – and that I would have one hand holding desperately to Christ and the other trying to pull my daughter back from the pits of hell itself. I was in a tug-a-war with demonic creatures that I had had no clue of until they manifested – and attacked. All I knew was that I could not let go – if I was dragged into hell itself. I would not, and could not, let go. For this was my child, flesh of my flesh and heart of my heart. Even though I no longer recognized her – I knew that she was in there somewhere. And if Satan had her captive, then by gum, he had me too; but unlike Rachel – I was still able to fight.

Even so, I felt overwhelmed and helpless, because back then I had no knowledge of the power available to me. For it was only after I was physically attacked by the demons tormenting her, and I watched them flee at the mention of Jesus' name, that I came to realize the incredible power that we have as beings Incarnated by God Himself. In fact, what Satan thought would be a huge victory, has ended up being used by God to educate us all. And we are still learning...

And so, you see that I have much to 'declare and make known' of the 'works of God'. And, as the famous Golf Instructor Harvey Penick once said, "An old Pro told me that originality does not consist of saying what has never been said before; it consists of saying what you have to say that you know to be the truth."1 What follows is precisely that – what I have known and experienced over the last few years that I have known to be true; amazing, but indeed true.

_____________________

1 Penick, Harvey; Shrake, Bud (1992). Harvey Penick's Little Red Golf Book: Lessons and Teachings from a Lifetime in Golf. New York: Simon & Schuster. pp. 21. ISBN 0-671-75992-2.
Chapter 4. "The way of Yahweh is a stronghold to the upright, but it is a destruction to the workers of iniquity." (Proverbs 10:29)

When we moved to Connecticut I was seeing with the eyes of faith. J.J. had left the Navy. His long absences on the children had begun to take too much of a toll; and hence, even though he had had a stellar career ahead of him if he had stayed – he left it behind for the sake of his children. God has continued to bless him ever since...

We were both living, and walking, each and every day seeking God's will for our family. I myself had had such amazing, miraculous experiences – that it was hard not to. For even though I had had my share of time traveling in the land of 'Denial' when I was younger, that land can only take you so far. At some point you have to acknowledge the reality that is beating the heck out of you – or just accept that you're a coward, stop up your eyes and ears, and sing real loud.

But of course, our enemy Satan is not stupid. He knows to work slowly. If he instantly attacked, you would recognize it for what it was – and resist. But instead he lures. Just look at drugs. He doesn't show you broken, wasted bodies rotting away in filth – instead he shows you young people having incredible fun at wild parties. And sex: you don't get to see the young men and women sobbing because their broken hearts, and diseased bodies have sealed a loveless future; the child silently and desperately waiting in vain for a father or mother to come back home – their little lives, hearts and souls destroyed because an adult fell for Satan's promise of 'love' and 'pleasure'. Instead you see romance, excitement, a 'new life' – but a new life without commitment is much like a house without foundation – most likely, at some point, it WILL fall down. And that's when Satan gets his reward for being patient; for luring. And he's good at it. I speak from experience, for shortly after moving to Connecticut, we were busy building our own 'new life'. A beautiful big home like we had always dreamed about, a cute little town like the Norman Rockwell paintings of old. How wonderful to finally be in paradise! That seems funny to me now, cause isn't paradise supposed to be on the OTHER side of this world? It seems that slowly becoming enveloped in darkness; I forgot.

But paradise it was; in my eyes. And that is the clue – "my" eyes. I had begun seeing through the eyes of this world – evil, once visible to me – disappeared. I was a sitting duck, once again...

Suddenly, we were 'busy' like all other young families. We bought into the belief that sports would save the children; give them skills they needed. And it did; but was it really meant to be their Savior? Yet they wanted to be with their friends, and their friends were playing sports. We were the young parents during the days when soccer games switched to Sundays. Sure there was some quiet protesting; we complained that it was harder to get to church, and HEY didn't they know that Sundays were to be kept as holy days? But we rationalized that we were together as a family watching the children's games – isn't that making Sunday holy?

Do you see how it works, how the enemy works? When you no longer see through the eyes of faith; you can make anything seem logical – even trading church for soccer and calling it a 'holy' day. Though even then there were moments when my eyes were opened. I remember being at a 'travel soccer' tournament. 'Travel soccer' was not your usual fun local soccer; it was held on Sundays for children who were really 'good' at soccer – hence the lure for young parents to have our children labeled 'good'. Isn't that a 'good' thing? Yet that day, I witnessed hundreds of young children being marched around the field (on a Sunday) by coaches who were more akin to Hitler than a youth minister. There were chants announcing how this team was going to 'kill' that team; how this team was 'number one' and would stomp the others – and on, and on. Little children who were tired, sore and just not 'winners' were held out for subtle ridicule. I saw sadness all around. I felt a sick feeling in my stomach and, suddenly, my eyes were opened. I then realized that I was looking at something akin to the Nazi Youth Groups – fueled by pride and hate, power and victory – at all costs. Not only were these children not being taken to church where they would learn about the love of God; but also the enemy himself had them in his own personal training camp. I felt a chill come over me when I realized that these very young children were being brought up in his values of arrogance, pride, cruelty and ridicule; were being taught that those values were good – that evil was good. Shortly thereafter, my children's 'travel soccer' days came to an end. I simply no longer had the stomach for it.

But the lure to fit in was there – and so too the cultural lure of 'having more'. I returned to work outside of the home. I had my law degree and had passed the Connecticut bar. Now we were finally back in Connecticut – time to make some bucks! Sarah was beginning kindergarten in a year; surely the children did not need me as much – or did they?
Chapter 5: "He who troubles his own house shall inherit the wind." (Proverbs 11:29)

Perhaps this is a good time to explain the 'eyes of faith'. Eyes of faith, I have discovered, have a different end game in sight. Eyes of faith look beyond this world, and measure every action, every thought, and every word in light of heaven. Back when this world was so very difficult, dangerous and just plain deadly – EVERYONE had eyes of faith. Heaven was just a bad cold away; a simple cut that became infected; a cold damp evening without a scarf around your neck; a difficult childbirth. Heaven was on everyone's mind because death was a constant companion and hence a reminder that one's choices determined whether one was going there (for all eternity) or not. The 'or not' makes a big difference when it is code for Hell – which, back then, everyone knew it was.

In the 21st century, we have cured that! In fact, not only is death no longer a constant companion – the fact that it still exists triggers lawsuits! SOMEBODY must be at fault, each and every time someone actually has the audacity to die! And not only have we banished death; but we're busily working on getting rid of imperfection too. When I was a kid, people had crooked teeth. If they could still chew and talk – then their teeth, obviously, were just fine. They did the job. Today, no one has crooked teeth – they are simply not allowed in our perfect world. In one generation, we have gone from valuing substance over appearance; no, from valuing substance to worshiping appearance. Who cares if that ball player abuses his wife and cheats on her? Doesn't he look good on the field?!! And what matter that those Hollywood stars glorify immorality – look how good they dress!!!

We have taken our eyes from an eternal end goal; and replaced it with a temporal one. We worship the temporary, and ignore the eternal. We hold up man's wisdom – and ridicule God's. We see – through the eyes of the world; and have lost the clear vision of the eyes of faith.

This is our current disease; and it is killing us. But like a silent epidemic – we are growing sicker every day without notice. Sure, since God's law is written on each and every heart – we know deep inside that something is wrong. But the problem is that we no longer have the eyes of faith to discern a cure. We tackle our uneasiness with the eyes of this world – and choose the same poison that has gotten us ill. We just ingest more and more of it.

Hence, the poison of having 'more'. When you stop seeing through the eyes of faith, you only have the eyes of this world to justify everything you do. In Connecticut, my slowly re-acquired eyes of the world led to these justifying thoughts:

I had practically killed myself trying to finish law school and take the bar exam; while J.J. spent years away on Navy deployments, and I was left raising our 1st child alone. Hence I 'deserved' to make it up and have MY day in the sun...

Therefore, living in Connecticut, where I had passed the bar exam and was a qualified attorney, I slowly began to believe that it was 'time for ME'. It was time to prove myself at a 'real' job; it was my turn to get a little respect from this world. J.J. was eager for more money to come into the household – I was eager for more than just that.

Unfortunately, neither of us was eager to explore the consequences on the children. But even if we had – would we really have found any wisdom in that exploration? Those were the days when women were 'finding themselves' outside of the home. Society had determined that raising children was something that any idiot could do – and, quite frankly – you would be one to give up your 'life' to do so. And since I was no longer seeing through the eyes of faith (eyes that encouraged self sacrifice rather than child sacrifice) – society was suddenly making some sense again.

Even so, I had arrived in New England on fire for my faith – remember? I was going to change it back to 'godly'! Initially I tried to find other Charismatic Catholic Christians – people who thought like me. There were none. I finally called one of the 'elders' in our church; an older man very much involved and active. He listened to my request and responded bluntly. "The Catholic Church", he said, "is dead here."

So much for pushing back the gates of hell... If I were to do so, I was doing it alone. Not only am I not that strong, but also Satan has a thing or two on me in the area of cleverness – and patience. He's gotten real patient – what with having millennia's of time with which to do so. Something tells me he's gotten human nature 'down pat' by now... So he just waited me out.

He had learned his mistake the first time I tried to return to the work force, shortly after passing the bar exam and while Jessica was a toddler. I got a part time job in California at a local firm. After a few months, the partners came and offered me a full time job as their newest associate on one caveat – I would have to work full time and my child could not interfere. So excited to have been sought out over all the other new graduates working there, I promptly made child care arrangements for Jessica with the woman next door. Jessica and her children were friends – how bad could it be for me to be gone each day? Within 2 weeks time, Jessica had begun to change. Her sleep cycle was now off; she seemed weaker, more insecure. She now clung to me each time I tried to leave; she cried frequently when I was home.

I just couldn't do it. I saw the effect, and had the sense to realize even back then that it was because of what I was doing to her; because I was putting my desires over her needs. I told the office that I had to refuse their offer. I was shocked at the scorn they had for my decision; but I knew, in my heart –where God's law resides – that I was doing the right thing. This was my child after all – the only thing in the world that was 100% my responsibility.

Hence, Satan worked slowly when I attempted the same in Connecticut. The children seemed okay. I was only working part time, and J.J. was there to fill in the cracks. I tried to work only when he was home. The few times I had to leave Sarah with a sitter killed me – but I justified that she was older – she would be fine. I never realized the fear that grew within her – a fear that Satan could play on for years to come.

But in the meantime, we were living an idyllic life. The children were young and loving a life lived with dad at home. J.J. became their baseball coach, and their softball coach, and their basketball coach – and on and on. His new job as an airline pilot allowed him to spend whole stretches of time at home; and he took advantage of every minute. Hence, in many ways it made sense for me to return to the work force outside of the home. And most importantly, the children were still young enough to listen to us, and to believe that what we said was true. Each Sunday we would all excitedly spill into church and sit in our requisite 2 front pews. While J.J. and I soaked in the Mass, Colby and Rachel secretly carved their names into 'their' seats. It was our home away from home; and life was good.

But slowly my job began to encroach on that life. As it did, things like 'having our dream house' and 'getting respect' and 'fulfilling myself' (FINALLY) in a 'real' job became paramount. As we let them, J.J. and I, like millions of other Americans, began down the path toward marginalization. The nice cars came, the golf course membership and eventually we fit in perfectly – 2 more dead people walking around rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic – just like everyone else. For with 'stuff' came responsibility. With responsibility came obligations. With obligations came the shortcuts taken to fulfill them. And somehow the shortcuts are rarely ever taken in one's 'outside the house' obligations – they are instead taken with the people who will always love you no matter what: your family. If those 'people' are too young to really do anything about it – then bonus! Bosses are loud and demanding – kids just suffer silently.

We became, in fact, the perfect 21st century American family. Our new mantra, and point of pride, was our 'busy-ness'. And though we tried our best to 'be there' for every sport activity, every school function, every field trip – there is a big difference between 'being there' physically and 'being there' mentally. I could write at least 10 briefs in my head while listening to my children recant their days. Ever the expert at 'time management', I could 'care' for the children while still engaged in endless cell phone calls with clients. Multi-tasking is great – until you add 'children's needs' into that equation. Then it is no longer 'multi-tasking'; it is missing your children's childhoods. We too deceived ourselves into thinking that you can raise children by throwing a few hours at their needs each day – without taking time to truly study their wants and desires – and hearts. We forget that children need more than their physical needs cared for – they need their hearts and souls cared for. Studies have shown that children in orphanages whose bodily needs were met still perished for lack of human attention and interaction. I am not suggesting that our levels of neglect reached that far – but there is something disconcerting when we think that providing only for our children's material needs in any way compensates for our time spent 'busy' with something else.

When our children were young and I was not working outside the home, they had very, very little in material things – yet they were happy all the time. When I began working outside the home, they were able to acquire more and more material things – and even so, their levels of sadness and discontent rose and rose. I was so busy 'muti-tasking' that I just didn't see it. It is simply impossible to be able to truly pay attention when you are rushing and exhausted from trying to do it all. 'It all' was never meant to be done – at the expense of the eternal beings, our children, that God had entrusted to us. On the other hand – there was no example around to show me that I was wrong – everyone was as 'busy' as us. In fact, few had the opportunities to engage in so many of their children's activities as we were with my own business and J.J.'s flying schedule. Even so, it was not enough, and the children's behavior began to reveal that fact.

Things naturally began to, once again, grow hard. But by then we were trapped. My money was a nice addition that we began to count on; J.J. constantly told me how relieved he felt that the 'pressure' was off. I began to see that it was my duty to work to keep everyone happy. For the first time we could afford the things we had only dreamed about; actual new furniture, nice toys and first-hand clothes for the children, activities they enjoyed. With each new want, the pressure increased to make more money. Soon I no longer felt like I was 'having it all'. Instead it felt like I was 'carrying it all'. I sought more earthly means to find relief. Of course those means all involved acquiring more 'stuff'.

Satan's patience won out. I had launched back into the 'real world'. Since my measuring stick was no longer eternal values, but worldly ones, it was easy to gain pride in all my new achievements. That pride, the original sin ("you can be LIKE GOD!"), clouded my vision so greatly that the transformation was complete. I had lost my focus. I had acquired the disease. The children, it seemed, were just being 'difficult'.
Chapter 6: "The way of the wicked is like darkness. They don't know what they stumble over." (Proverbs 4:19)

And then the teen years hit.

It was one thing when the children were young, and still listening to us and our values. We never counted on what would happen – living in a dark place – when they started listening to the values in the world around them.

It began to get ugly.

It started as they moved from childhood into their teen years. The world and values we had maintained in our home began to be questioned by the children as they ventured out into the world around us.

You see, you have to understand the condition of the values in Connecticut during this time to really appreciate the enormity of the situation. We lived in MTV world. Really, I mean it. Other adults told our children things like "Oh, we like your parents, but.... really, they need to come out of the dark ages", or "they are awfully old fashioned" or "they take this religion stuff a little too seriously" or – my personal favorite – "they need to watch more MTV". Now these were not strangers telling our children these things – they were our friends – other soccer moms and dads, people who attended church (!) with us, those whose children played with ours – FRIENDS. And our Friends were now telling our children that we were wrong to expect them to behave responsibly, we were wrong to expect them to seek to live godly lives, we were wrong to expect them to follow God's laws.

But it was more than just differing 'rules'; it was the very spirit of the age around – a dark spirit. It masqueraded evil as 'tolerance' for all things – especially 'tolerance' of all things that had once been considered evil. To continue to consider them evil meant that you were 'intolerant', 'repressive', and 'ignorant' of the brave new world. Those around us saw only with eyes of the world, and a worldly vision sees only this life as important. So, it only made sense that the culminating opinion would become: Life is short – why not party?

Well, if you were a rebellious 13, 14, 15, or 16 year old – whom would YOU believe?

Enough said.

Slowly the children began to turn.

Another example might help. Not far from us was a college, Wesleyan University. It was a fairly well known and respected university. While we were living in Connecticut, word leaked out to the press that there was a course offered by Wesleyan that was named "Introduction to Pornography". The students in this class – all impressionable young adults under the 'protective' arm of the administration – obtained college credits for studying – pornography.

I am not making this up.

The final grade in the 'intro to pornography' class was to be obtained by the student filming a pornographic video using their fellow classmates – for final viewing by the (adult) college professor.

I am STILL not making this up.

Well this article, as you can imagine, caused quite a stir locally. People began to question what the administration was doing at that school! I questioned what the Police were doing??!!! At that time, I worked in juvenile court, right down the street from Wesleyan College – in my courthouse, adults were PROSECUTED for less! For broken down to its most common-sense description, what was happening was this: Teenagers were engaging in obscene acts via the direction of adults, for viewing by adults – and this was acceptable? Heck, this was a class for college credit??!! At a supposedly elite, 'ivy-league' school?? (But then again, that alone may explain the whole story...)

The media, of course had a heyday. But at the end of it all, the general consensus was – "What is wrong with you people??!!! How can you not see how good this all is?!! What a bunch of ignorant prudes! How is it that we, oh enlightened students and adults of Connecticut in today's world, must continue to put up with you!!!"

And everyone said, "Oh, of course! We forgot how enlightened we are here! Forgive us for making a ruckus. We will try to better educate ourselves next time.... (Perhaps we should try watching more MTV?)"

This would be comical – if it were not in fact true. Welcome to Connecticut – where our forefathers began a revolution – for far less. The British, after all, weren't even trying to destroy the lives of children – they were just after some more money. In Connecticut a mere 200 years later, evil had reached such a level that public knowledge of the murdering of our own children's bodies, spirits, minds and souls resulted in a public yawn; as we turned the page to the sports and entertainment section...
Chapter 7: "Instead, we became vain in our reasoning, and our senseless minds were darkened. While claiming to be wise, we became fools" (Romans 1:21)

The problem with engaging in evil is that since God's law is written on our hearts, we know when we have sinned. But heaven forbid we convict ourselves of it! So instead, we justify. To assuage the sound of Satan's continually convicting comments, we glorify our sinfulness. For after all, if we can glorify something then it must be good, right? And if it is good, then WE must be good – right?

There is no other explanation for the parents of my generation continuing to push 'fun' and 'sex' onto their own children. I grew up during the 'sexual revolution'. I saw the destroyed lives wrought in it. I was THERE. You can't fool me by making me think anything 'good' came of it!! And so I am always amazed by my peers who saw the same things and yet have convinced themselves of the 'goodness' in it – because then they are no longer self-condemned.

As you can imagine, it grew increasingly harder to parent. To 'parent' – you know – the verb. That's when you raise up a child to be responsible, respectful, resourceful; healthy in mind, body and soul. Or not. There was a lot of 'or not's' going on in the households around us. Parenting had morphed into partying; 'understanding' your child's unwillingness to 'be controlled' (what used to be called 'govern themselves').

Because, you see, if your CHILDREN had to govern themselves – then that meant, gasp, that YOU might have to also! Banish the thought!! Marriages were falling by the wayside as grown people, (but not 'grown-ups'), were busy satisfying their own wants and desires – while ignoring their children's needs. My children would leave my house, where they were expected to act respectfully and responsibly, and go to their friends' houses, where they were offered alcohol (while underage) and drugs (while illegal). This – from our 'friends'.

As I said, parenting became difficult.

A classic example occurred the morning that J.J. drove Rachel to the bus stop. Now mind you, the bus stop was easily a walk-able trek; and yet Rachel was running late and so J.J. drove her to it so she could make the bus without stressing out. As she got out of the car, he noted that if she were to get out of bed when first called in the morning – she wouldn't have to be rushing around like a crazy person, and almost miss the bus. She apparently did not like that comment; and so she slammed the car door and huffed off. As she crossed the street to the bus stop, she stopped in the center of the road and turned back to J.J. in the truck. There, in full view of all the kids waiting for the bus, she raised her arm up high and defiantly 'gave him the finger'.

I'll never forget J.J.'s face when he walked back into the house.

"My daughter," he said in amazement, "just flipped me off at the bus stop. She flipped me off – at the bus stop. Right there, at the bus stop..."

He continued to shake his head in wonder, and repeat the amazing incident, as he walked away...

However, the truly amazing thing about this incident was that when Rachel got to school, she told her teachers that her dad was 'mad' at her and was going to 'punish' her when she got home. In Connecticut, land of 'all parents are bad parents', her teachers of course sympathized with her that her father was so 'bad', and then proceeded to call in the authorities. So instead of Rachel coming home on the bus that day, and told she was grounded due to such disrespectful and unacceptable behavior – I had to put on my lawyer suit and go duke it out with a Department of Children and Families (DCF) official. When I pointed out that the school, and DCF, had broken pretty much every law in the books by treating Rachel – and us – as they did; they backed down. Somewhat sheepishly – but certainly not apologetic because, as they explained, they must be forever 'diligent' due to the oppressive and abusive tactics of almost all parents. (Of course, 'oppressive' and 'abusive' is defined by them to mean parents who enforce rules; something that has pretty much been considered normal and necessary for the proper upbringing of children – since the dawn of time.) But what if I had not been an attorney? Now you know why a large part of my law practice in Connecticut involved defending good parents against the bullying tactics of DCF...

You might wonder how all this happened in a part of the country once known for its Puritan forebears. (Wesleyan, after all, is named for John Wesley – the famous preacher.) I have long wondered the same, and been confused at New England's descent into darkness. When I first told my Christian friends in Florida that we were moving to New England, they had given me a warning. They had said to be careful and guard my faith, as the spirit of darkness was so strong there. They were right. Yet how can you be careful enough? The spirit of darkness is so pervasive that it is akin to a fish swimming in polluted water. How can he not slowly poison himself? As diligent as he may be – the very water coursing through his body is permeated with killing agents. So too the air in New England.

But why there? Some people I have spoken to trace it back to the Salem witches. Although many innocent people were unjustly killed in that 'witch hunt', history does show that there was some kind of demonic activity there that precipitated it all. If you read the actual eye witness accounts (and not the non-eyewitness-opinions formulated centuries later) you will see that actual factual things occurred that have no basis in the natural world. Those things led to a witch hunt which led to – surprise – the killing of innocent blood (always another sign of the enemy's presence). Those who formulate the 'Salem witch history' as a potential cause of New England's current level of acceptance of evil note that since spiritual beings don't just die, or move on, what was in Salem back then – is still there.

But in my opinion, I think it goes back to pride. The 1st of the deadly sins takes high priority for a reason – it is the original sin of Eden ('you can be like GOD!'), and all sins have their source in it. Sin is nothing more than placing ourselves on the throne that God should occupy in our lives. Once we sit there, it is amazing what we will justify. I grew up being told how much 'smarter', more 'educated', and 'wiser' we New Englanders were. We looked down on all others – especially those ignorant Southerners and dense Midwesterners. WE had Yale, Harvard and all kinds of brilliant people – why, the 'best of the best' could all be found among us! (Pssst: of course don't tell anyone; but we defined what 'best' is too!)

The only thing we neglected was the fact that all wisdom comes from God, and can only be found in His Holy Word. Since we, oh so enlightened New Englander's, had tossed out the Bible as something only ignorant, helpless people read when looking for a 'crutch' – we had cut off the very source of any true wisdom. So now, you had a whole section of the country blind to its own ignorance, and terrifyingly grabbing control of all it could in its desire to rule through 'enlightenment'. What happened next is no big surprise for anyone who actually DOES read Scripture:

"(a)lthough they knew God they did not accord Him glory as God or give Him thanks. Instead, they became vain in their reasoning, and their senseless minds were darkened. While claiming to be wise, they became fools and exchanged the glory of the Immortal God for the likeness of an image of mortal man or of birds or of four-legged animals or of snakes.

Therefore, God handed them over to impurity through the lusts of their hearts for the mutual degradation of their bodies. They exchanged the truth of God for a lie and revered and worshiped the creature rather than the Creator, who is blessed forever. Amen. Therefore, God handed them over to degrading passions. Their females exchanged natural relations for unnatural, and the males likewise gave up natural relations with females and burned with lust for one another. Males did shameful things with males and thus received in their own persons the due penalty for their perversity. And since they did not see fit to acknowledge God, God handed them over to their undiscerning mind to do what is improper. They are filled with every form of wickedness, evil, greed, and malice; full of envy, murder, rivalry, treachery, and spite. They are gossips and scandalmongers and they hate God. They are insolent, haughty, boastful, ingenious in their wickedness, and rebellious toward their parents. They are senseless, faithless, heartless, ruthless. Although they know the just decree of God that all who practice such things deserve death, they not only do them but give approval to those who practice them." Romans 1:21-32

I would almost think that St. Paul was living in Connecticut in the latter half of the 1900's! Not being all that 'enlightened' and 'brilliant', I pretty much just have to go with what the Creator of the Entire Universe says is true. And so I think the fall of New England, and Connecticut, essentially goes back to pride. Since pride is from Satan, the more we crowed about our wonderfulness, the more his presence grew among us, and certainly, the last thing he would encourage is submission to God. Hence, "although we knew God we did not accord Him glory as God or give Him thanks. Instead, we became vain in our reasoning, and our senseless minds were darkened. While claiming to be wise, we became fools'.

And there we stand today. Exhibit #1: Wesleyan pornography class.

Enough said.

For when I reflect on the no-so-distant past, I see that the Connecticut I knew as a child has not only disappeared, but was fading even as I was growing up. My parent's generation, living in the suburbs of the 'great cities' such as New York, was engaged in one long 'cocktail party'. My memories were of grownups crowding my house, spilling drinks all over the carpet and each other, and acting more and more silly as the night went on. And yet our house was no different in that respect than anyone else's. Gone was the World War 2 generation that had sacrificed life and limb to protect the world for their children. Those same children grew up tired of sacrifice and seriousness. The 60's showed how much fun the world could be – one had only to embrace the new goddesses of the hour – intoxication, self and sex – and the world would be a much better place.

Children were being labeled more and more a 'burden'. In fact, they were the single handedly biggest obstacles to women's 'equal rights'. With 'equal rights', women could finally join that big party! They could engage in as much intoxication, self and sex as they wanted – and no man could tell them no! Men, of course, were not very happy with that. Their newfound redeemer was the 'corporate culture'. They were pursuing bigger and bigger dreams of success in the working world. They would finally be able to prove their full worth in the dollar sign on the possessions their 'status' let them acquire. Good grief, if women stopped dealing with those pesky children – they might have to!

Needless to say, in the Connecticut of my youth – we children grew up alone. Every day was droned home to us the fact – we were unwanted and our very presence an irritation to the real things our parents wanted to do – the things that really mattered – education, money, status, power. We were still in large families though – and so it was an even greater sense of loneliness. When there is little attention coming your way, well, little positive attention, than every sibling is a potential threat to your share of the pie. The same still happens today, but now parents are at least honest about what is most important to them. They multiply their possessions – and limit their children to one or two.

And Satan was thrilled. Still is. Because when you live a lie; telling your children how much you love them, and then treating them like they have little to no meaning and are nothing but an impediment to your real dreams – you leave a minefield of wounds. Or, as has happened in this current generation, you raise up children who are nothing more than an extension of yourself and your net worth – hence they better get into the best schools, with the best grades, and the highest 'worth'. Those children then never really know what it is like to just be a child and be satisfied with being – and not doing/producing. They never know that they, in and of themselves, are worthy of love – by virtue of nothing more than creation in the image and likeness of God. They grow up aching for love, aching for meaning, aching for hope. And since the advent of the culturally accepted orphanages, I mean, day-care centers – children grow up without any foundation of their actual being. You form your sense of 'being' based on being loved by your parent (usually mother) exclusively during (at least) your first year of life. Psychiatrists call the 1st 9 months of life the 'womb of the spirit'. That's when the development of our very psyche and/or soul is formed by the constant security of a loving presence 24/7, who is putting you first in their life. You learn that you are a separate, cherished entity because this person you adore is constantly treating you like one. You learn that the world can be counted on, and that you are safe. But if you are ripped from that 'womb' and thrown among strangers all day – then you never develop this sense of being. You grow up not knowing who you are. It is one of the fastest growing problems seen among the healing ministries today – young people who are completely and totally lost. They not only have no idea how to live; they simply have no idea who they are. They grow up... wounded. And Satan LOVES wounds. That is how he blocks our ears from hearing God; how he gets us to continue wounding those around us. Pretty soon it is a wounded world; where everyone grows up to believe it is better to wound, then be wounded. Pretty soon it is... Connecticut in 2005 – and today.

And where was God in all this, where was He in our lives during this time? Well, the amazing thing is that I was still spending an hour or so most days reading Scripture, seeking His Will, and trying to understand His Plans. I think, quite frankly, that that's the only thing that saved us. The problem was that He and I had two different end goals. I kept trying to get God to help us in the current situation; He kept trying to wake me up to the eternal one. If blessing our family with peace and harmony would end up with us settling down, being happy and relying on this world – to the neglect of our eternal salvation – then the solution was pretty simple in His eyes: there would be no peace and there would be no harmony. And there wasn't.

I suppose I had a lot in common with my teenagers – jumping up and down ranting and raving because I could not get my way.

Wonder why God calls all of us his "children"?

Slowly, the withdrawal of 'peace' and 'harmony' became more and more evident. The children, quite frankly, were becoming out of control. Open defiance and rebellion. We did what it seems most parents in America are doing these days with rebellious children. We blamed them.

Never once did we consider that our growing lack of attention to their hearts and our slow replacement of 'time' with 'stuff' were really at fault. No, we had GIVEN THEM ALL THIS STUFF and they STILL DID NOT APPRECIATE IT!!! Our friends urged us to do what they had done – give in. They never thought to look to themselves either; they just came to the conclusion that it was unreasonable to expect children to govern themselves. It was unreasonable to expect them to embrace goodness. After all, what's wrong with a little fun? You can't win – so just give up and climb on board.

We at least had the good sense to say to ourselves – "our friends have lost their minds."

But remember our pride? Pride has always been considered to be one of the 7 deadly sins. That is a shocking concept today – we are encouraged to take pride in ourselves, in what we do, in who we are, and on and on and on. We have equated 'pride' with 'self-esteem'; hence, we think you can never have too much of it.

The problem with Pride is not only that it makes you substitute yourself for God (and slowly drift to idiocy), but that it allows for no failure; no imperfection. (Hence our nation's perfect teeth.) Well, if there can be no allowance for failure – then how many people are going to readily admit to having done things wrong? We have an entire generation, (mine), who blindly embraced rebellion in their youth and threw off the 'shackles' of 'over-30-rules'. Sex was embraced as new freedom and women's 'liberation' from societally imposed modesty and virtue. We were finally able to embrace being one of the boys.

Problem is that most of us discovered that being one of the boys just left you as crude and disgusting as they were – without the civilizing force of modest and virtuous women. With all our 'freedom' we now had broken hearts, bodies and souls; unlimited sexual diseases; unplanned pregnancies and broken dreams. But in a culture dripping with pride, you just don't think there is room to say; "Guess what? We were wrong." And in a culture dripping with pride, you will ONLY be looking with the eyes of this world – hence you will be blindly seeking the world's solutions.

And the world's solutions? More sin.

But let's be honest. There's GOT to be more to this than just pride. As I've noted earlier: everything, absolutely EVERYTHING in this world has a spiritual component to it; and you can't know the reality of anything – until you know that.

And so when I heard of Baal – it all began to make sense...
Chapter 8: "For the lips of an adulteress drip honey. Her mouth is smoother than oil, But in the end she is as bitter as wormwood, and as sharp as a two-edged sword. Her feet go down to death. Her steps lead straight to Sheol." (Proverbs 5:3-5)

There is a woman by the name of Leanne Payne who has a worldwide healing ministry. She also ministers to those coming from "permissive and perverted sexual lifestyles".2 She has brought attention to the fact that, just as in Canaan of old; the god of Baal rules our culture. We simply have a different name for him.

The God of Baal was the god worshipped by pagans in the Old Testament, most notably the pagans in Canaan. Baal was the god that the Israelites of old were always doing battle against. Baal worship was the state religion under Ahab and Jezebel – the god that Elijah had his great battle against. Baal was essentially the worship of sex; the worship of the created – rather than the Creator. For when you deny the possibility of a 'Creator', then what is there left to worship? We, as beings created by God, are hard wired to worship. We do it naturally – just look at sport's fans! Hence, if there is no 'Creator' to worship, then we quickly learn to worship the created (Man, 'Mother Nature', the Pittsburg Steelers). From the worship of the created, we logically move on to worshiping the means to 'create' – i.e. sex and the sexual organs.

In ancient times, the means of 'worshiping' Baal began with sexual orgies facilitated by temple prostitutes. This led to the worship of Molech, the destructive side of Baal, when those pesky newborn 'fruits' of Baal worship were thrown into fires – living – as a way to not only worship Baal's power to create AND destroy, but to get relief from the 'burden' of raising an 'unwanted' child. Archeologists have uncovered massive graves filled with thousands upon thousands of tiny newborn skeletons in Canaanite cities. (One wonders what future archeologists will say of us when they uncover similar skeletons in areas known as 'medical waste'. What will they say when they see not thousands, but millions of them...? Will they note how much more 'enlightened' and 'educated' we are than the Canaanites of old?)

In fact, Anath, the great goddess of Baal, was known as the goddess of sex and war (violence) (the two things we are told that 'sell' products in America today). If you really want to stop in your tracks, listen to her other name: she was called "the great goddess who conceives but does not bear." And she, like abortion in our time, was worshipped for that – for the 'freedom' she gave to unlimited licentiousness.

How can one avoid the similarities between the god of Baal, and the worship of sex in America and the Western world today? In my life time alone, we have fallen so far under Baal's spell and possession as to make commonplace the things that crusty sailors would never have uttered a scant 30 years ago. And as our insatiable appetite for all things 'sexy' and 'sexual' (Baal/Anath) has grown – so too the destruction (Molech) in its wake. Broken homes due to extra-marital affairs; broken hearts due to premarital affairs; young boys and girls caught up in behaviors they cannot understand but emulate since portrayed as 'good'; a nation of adults who act like children; a nation of children wounded and betrayed by the adults that were supposed to do only 'good' to them – not evil.

I know mothers who consider themselves 'good' and 'educated' who run out and get birth control pills for their newly menstruating daughters. Knowing in their hearts how grievously wounded young girls become when allowed to be physically used by young boys – how can they possibly do this? Well, proudly proclaiming their enlightened minds, they, under the deception of Baal, are all too eager to offer up their young innocent daughters onto his altar. And under the darkness and confusion that evil creates, they agree to wound them in depths unimaginable in prior generations, and through evil that masquerades as 'enlightenment' – kill their very soul. In all other prior generations, someone who even suggested doing this to their children would have been publically executed – today, they are applauded. There is simply no other explanation for this then a spiritual force causing "senseless minds to become darkened".

Perhaps Ruth Bell Graham said it best when she reflected that 'if God did not bring judgment upon our Nation and our sin, then He owes Sodom and Gomorrah a personal apology'.3 Indeed, it is often noted that in the Old Testament, the Canaanites were the only nation that God ordered to be entirely exterminated by the Israelites. In fact, Deuteronomy 20:10-15 orders them to offer conditions of peace to other nations, yet verses 16-18 refused to let them do the same to Canaan. All other wars with other nations were only allowed for self-defense – yet the Canaanites were to be completely and totally destroyed – per God's orders. The reasons are very sobering ones for our times. For the Canaanites were destroyed so as to prevent them from corrupting the world (Deut. 20:16-18). "When a people starts to burn their children in honor of their gods (Lev. 18:21), practice sodomy, bestiality, and all sorts of loathsome vice (Lev. 18:23, 24, 20:3), the land itself begins to "vomit" them out as the body heaves under the load of internal poisons (Lev. 18:25, 27-30").

Have we any idea how a land 'vomits'? I don't know – but the thought of hurricanes, earthquakes, and 'weird weather' comes to mind. Who knows, but with this awareness, perhaps more people of good intention should begin to speak up for purity, morality and faith. No longer can we say, "well we don't agree with that, but we can't 'judge' others."

For when God's judgment comes – it will come on us all.

Even so, when one looks at the history of the Canaanite people, and how completely and totally they fell to ruin under the influence of the god of Baal; one begins to connect the dots here in our country – especially in places like Connecticut where people seem to have given themselves over to it entirely. Where adults have not only embraced Baal's ways themselves, but have convinced each other of the goodness of encouraging such among their children – then it becomes almost impossible to keep Baal's evil fingers from encircling your very home.

And encircle they did.

It couldn't have happened at a worst time in history. For this was the advent of the glory of 'technology'. Cell phones and personal computers had become mainstream; and all children were clamoring for them.

"Parents", intoned Techno Gurus and Educators, "should ensure their children become 'technologically literate' so that they are not 'left behind' in this brave, new, and exciting world!"

And we parents?

"Well," we thought, "what could it hurt? After all, a cell phone would be a means to keep them safe! If they got into trouble – they could just call!! And just think of all the fantastic knowledge they could look up with a computer!"

We never counted on the opposite – that it could also be used as a means to GET into trouble – without parents having a clue. Conversations that used to take place on the family phone in the kitchen, could now be held in a closet. And hey, if that still wasn't subterfuge enough – they could be wordlessly sent out in a text. And all that knowledge? Yeah that was a good thing, but with it came all the evil things they could look up – such as pornography. Not to mention things like 'chat rooms' that became open highways for pedophiles to reach our children... We were just plain clueless, and as such – we were enabling evil to take a stronger hold on our children's lives. Things have gotten a little safer today, what with parental blocks and all, but as time has gone on I have come to a conclusion – technology is just not good for young children – including cell phones. It makes them machine like – and cuts them off from the natural world during a developmental period when they should be learning all that nature has to teach them; all that is absolutely essential for them to learn. They should have little to no exposure to technology until high school; when their bodies have completely developed, and they are then ready to pursue things of higher intellect, having been formed with wisdom enough to make better choices. For today in our culture, we have stopped raising children. We have begun to raise machines. And machines are easily programmable – by anyone.

_____________________

2 Payne, Leeane. The Healing Presence: Curing the Soul Through Union with Christ. Ada, MI: Baker Books, 1995.

3 Graham, Billy. "Billy Graham: 'My Heart Aches for America'", Billy Graham Evangelistic Association, July 24, 2012. Web. (http://www.billygraham.org/articlepage.asp?articleid=8813). July 24, 2013
Chapter 9: "It is a fool's pleasure to do wickedness," (Proverbs 10:23)

Nonetheless, back in the New Enlightened Connecticut, we all had a 'heart issue'. Since God has written His Law on all of our hearts; everyone still KNEW they were sinning. But like any sports coach will tell you – a good defense is a strong offense. So as I noted when I began this story, in Connecticut, and most of the heavily 'secular' parts of our nation, people now proclaim that sin is ALL there is – and it is good. As long as we keep telling ourselves that; then we will keep insisting that children will disobey; children will be disrespectful; children will be promiscuous; children will not, and can not, be 'good'. Easier to say that sinning is inevitable – in fact, it's not really 'sin' at all – then to say, "Guess what? We were wrong." For after all, Prideful People are never 'wrong'.

Hence our friends in Connecticut confidently telling us to 'give it up', it's pointless; kids will sin just like we did – so simply join the party... Hence my generation never has to look in the mirror and see the whirlwind we unleashed on our nation – the destruction our sin has wrought on our own children. My generation never has to humble itself, fall on its knees and beg forgiveness from God. Why would we? We have long since come to the conclusion that, like Adam, WE can be 'like God'. And we think we are.

Darn the bad luck that we just can't convince the kids...

Take the 'virtue' of rebellion and put in the minds of young people with no adequate formation in the faith – and you have a pretty toxic combination. At least most of my generation had been raised in that faith – there were limits to what even we would do.

Those limits are lost today.

Every so often, you get reminders that wake you up real fast. One of the ones I had occurred when I was, once again, happily living in ignorance in Connecticut. (Perhaps that could be my theme song for most of the time I was there?) The phone rang, and on the other end was a police officer calling our house to tell me that he was coming by to cite Colby for trespassing.

Huh? Colby was asleep upstairs in his room. Although I could probably cite him for unlawfully trespassing upstairs – based on the level of cleanliness up there – I just didn't think that was a societal crime.

I was promptly assured that I was (surprise!) wrong and simply (super surprise!) ignorant of the entire situation. Imagine that! It turned out that there had been a party that weekend on public property and afterwards, J.J.'s credit card – that Colby carried – was found. Unless J.J. had somehow been on a back road mistakenly trying to purchase a leaf from a tree – the evidence was pretty good that our sweet teenage son had been at that unauthorized party where underage children had been drinking alcohol. This news did not exactly blow my socks off; but even so, I roundly chastised Colby for taking part in this party. Grounded – once again.

That was the pretty routine status of our teenagers during those years...

Later, when I was roaming about the house, gazing up to the sky and voicing 'woe is me's' to the heavens concerning the fruits of my parenting efforts; the girls quietly informed me of the reason for the credit card lying in the dirt. Rachel and Colby had gone to this party that was held by local teenagers. One small girl there was a brand new high school freshman. Three older girls decided, for fun, to 'beat her up' at this party, and proceeded to do so. The rest of the teenagers formed a laughing, leering circle watching this small girl get knocked on the ground, pummeled, kicked and beaten by these 3 much bigger girls – for no reason other than 'entertainment'. The watching teenagers egged them on to more and more cruelties. But when Colby saw what was happening, he alone jumped into the circle and began to pull these girls off of the young victim. It was no easy task and involved a lot of pushing, pulling and blocking of blows. In the end, he was pretty disheveled and his wallet was spilled all over the ground. But at least he stopped the assault on this girl. And his reward? A citation for trespassing. (Hint: If you want to know what spiritual entity rules an environment – just look to who manages to get 'in trouble'.)

So what made my son step up to prevent cruelty and evil? What was different? Well, he had been raised in a home that, during his formative years, was completely immersed in God. In essence, he had been raised in an environment much like my generation – an environment that still acknowledged, and recognized, good and evil. But since my generation has, at least up in Connecticut, determined that – as new gods – they would redefine evil to be good, and good to be evil: most of Colby's friends had not been raised in a Christian environment. Cruelty was just a new form of entertainment. Kind of like the days before Christianity permeated the western world – when throwing people to hungry lions was also a form of entertainment... Sure doesn't take long to get back to square one: without God.

After my girls told me this, I was appalled. I kept expressing disbelief that those teenagers – most of whom I knew – would be so cruel. Jessica, my oldest, looked at me and said "Mom, you have to understand that in all the years we have lived here in Connecticut, I have not met anyone who thinks like we do. There has been no one who truly believes there is a God and we must obey his Laws."

Still, I had a hard time comprehending that! "These are children I see in church with their parents on Sundays! Surely, there is someone who has faith among them!"

Jessica shook her head and looked at me like a doctor giving bad news. "There is no one, Mom. No one."

Which is pretty much another lesson. One hour a week in Church zoning off while listening to someone talk about God really doesn't do much for a child when the other 125 hours are spent never hearing His name. Add to that, that during most of those other 125 hours, the only time you hear about God is when He, or His followers, are being ridiculed. Feed this to a child for his/her formative years and you will discover that you have raised a pagan. Yes; as in 'Pagan: definition: an irreligious or hedonistic person; a person deemed savage or uncivilized and morally deficient'.

Are we surprised? If your child spent 1 hour a week in soccer practice, and the other 125 hours a week sitting on their butt and making fun of people who played soccer – do you think they would have much chance to make the Olympic team?

Enough said.

It's kind of funny actually. People in the past didn't have these problems when they believed in Jesus Christ enough to obey Him. You know – when we had faith enough to do what we're told. For instance, we don't say we 'believe' in our corporate job; and yet never follow any of the things our corporate employer says is important to our progress. We don't say we 'believe' in education; and yet not follow a single curriculum. When we 'believe' in something we do more than show up once a week, voice platitudes, sing songs and go back home 'justified'. We FOLLOW the WAY. If the Lord says sex outside marriage is a sin – we don't do it (a novel thought!). If He says we will only be forgiven to the extent we forgive others – we forgive (no matter how 'wounded' our pride). If He says 'follow me', then we obey that little voice – remember the one that tells you "no!" when you want to do something sinful – yeah that one! We obey it. OBEDIENCE – now that's a blast from the past! We have such a hard time with that word these days that I hear it is stricken from most wedding vows.

"What? Obey? Are you kidding me??!!!"

The funny part is that when you think about it, one of our biggest complaints is that our children no longer obey us – and who in the world can figure that out?
Chapter: 10 "For he adds rebellion to his sin. He claps his hands among us, and multiplies his words against God." (Job 34:37)

But lest you think that my children were such paragons of virtue growing up in our 'oh so Christian home', let me relay another story from the same time frame as the 'Colby saving the young freshman' tale. It was New Year's Eve and the children were all out at their respective friends' houses for parties. J.J. was gone on a trip and I sat alone, blithely writing in my journal all the things the Lord had been doing in my life, and waiting for the children to return. Underneath that entry is another one; penciled in at the close of that year, in December. It reads: (on December 26 – Rachel confided in us that she and Michael were so drunk on New Years that he started vomiting while driving home! And that she had to drive even though she had been vomiting earlier....").

And again, lest you think that Rachel was the only 'problem child' in our house; just 8 days after New Years I have another entry. It details how all the teen drivers had taken the 'good' cars for their fun activities that night and left me Colby's beat up old truck to drive Sarah to her basketball game. Apparently, that was routine – 'no concern for Mom' was the standard operating procedure in our house; expected and accepted. Well, after returning to the truck in an empty parking lot on a bitter cold winter night in Connecticut, I discovered that the engine was dead. My journal entry goes like this: I call Colby – he's arguing with me, doesn't want to come get us – even though broken down, in an empty parking lot on a winter night! Tell him he has to; he hangs up on me.

Welcome to our home in Connecticut. Have I mentioned that parenting had become difficult....?

But at this point, I still had absolutely no idea how 'difficult' difficult could become. Sure we had rebellion. Not a day or two went by without one of my children telling me how much they hated me, how awful I was, how mean I was, how stupid I was, how fill-in-the-blank-with-anything-awful-you-can-think-of I was. It was actually pretty routine. I would just answer, "I hear you, but I know in your heart that you really do love me." And that would REALLY make them mad! People at work were always so surprised that I was not more 'vain and boastful' as an attorney (since, apparently that is the modus operando expected for us in our brave new pagan world...). Yet I would simply explain that I had 4 teenagers, and hence I had lost any semblance of self-esteem years ago.

On the heels of their rebellion, my children had also become experts at lying and subterfuge. Had the CIA more sense – they would have been up interviewing my children for their next big spy operation. Then again, due to the grace of God, my children always got caught – so maybe the CIA had more sense than I thought. I would always tell the children – in the midst of grounding them yet again – that they might as well 'give it up'. I told them that I prayed for them each and every day and therefore God was NEVER going to let them get away with anything. He's always got their, and our, backs. And I think that is true. I have since seen it to be true in every family that prays regularly for their children. They always get caught; they always make stupid identifying mistakes. For instance, it is hard to hide the fact that you have started up and driven the truck without a license (or any instruction on driving cars) – when it is wrapped around a tree halfway down the back hill... Or how about trying to hide the fact that you were too lazy to walk across the yard and carry the firewood to the house – when there are tire tracks in a perfect line from the driveway to the woodpile. And of course my personal favorite – hard to hide the fact you are drinking underage; when you throw the empties into the woods where they stand out like shining jewels in the newly fallen snow...

We are not talking rocket science here.

But even so, rebellion is one thing. Rebellion just shows that you are being influenced by the ideas of Satan. It is quite another thing to become actually controlled by him – and that's what even we were unprepared for.
Chapter 11: "A snare will take him by the heel. A trap will catch him." (Job 18:9)

It all started harmlessly enough. Jessica had (finally) finished college. Colby was a senior in high school, one of the best golfers in the state, and certainly not needing a parent to 'tell me what to do'. He was a true son of Connecticut. Rachel was a junior in high school, having one run in with her teachers after another. She too had drunken the Connecticut Kool-Aid, and felt that 'obedience' and 'respect for authority' was a 'lifestyle choice' that she simply could not get behind. Sarah was in the 8th grade, and silently suffering through a cruel Principal in her (what we thought to be) 'safe' Catholic elementary school. J.J. and I were so busy working for all of their 'stuff' – that we pretty much had no clue.

The combination of Jessica's graduation, and Christmas, led to us planning to take them all by surprise. For once in our parenting lives – we were successful. Jessica graduated a week before Christmas, and we took everyone out for dinner. J.J. then made a ceremonial show of handing each child an envelope while saying that Jessica's graduation gift, and each of their Christmas gifts, was inside.

Rachel, eager to prove how rotten we were; waved hers in front of Colby's face, saying sarcastically, "Colby, THIS is our Christmas present! This is ALL it is!!! Can you believe that Colby? Can you BELIEVE it???!!!!!"

Colby however, busily opening his envelope and looking at the paper inside, began to say "Bahamas??!!!??? "

Jessica, 10 seconds ahead of him, completed the thought – "We are GOING TO THE BAHAMAS!!!"

Rachel, caught unawares, opened her envelope and chimed in – "Bahamas!... Tomorrow???!"

And for Sarah, this was her shining moment, since she had heard J.J. and I whispering and had told the others that something was up. Being the youngest; they had promptly dismissed her. Now, with a smile, she simply repeated over and over, "I told you so."

Nonetheless, we had gotten a Bahamas vacation for the whole family – and we were leaving early the very next day. They were shocked. The last family vacation away from home had been when they were all under 10. This was not a routine occurrence.

Rachel suddenly pushed away her food, saying, "I can't eat anything – I'm too fat! And, I don't have a sun tan!!!" (As I noted earlier, they had been astute learners of America's values...)

Next day found us winging our way to the Bahamas. This was shortly after the disappearance of a young American college girl during an island vacation when she left the resort –and her friends – with a total stranger she had met. She had yet to be found, and was presumed dead.

I spent most of the flight warning the children that – if they left the resort with anyone except us – they would die. (I am not called 'the voice of doom' for nothing.) The first couple days went smoothly – although it seemed that every time our children rented a beach vehicle – someone had to go rescue them. First the sailing boat tipped over – out on the ocean. J.J. and I watched from shore as the girls screamed, Colby tried to right it – and the rescue squad headed out. Then the sailing boat mast broke off – out on the ocean. J.J. and I watched from shore as the girls screamed, Colby tried to fix it – and the rescue squad headed out. And this was still only morning.

The kids gave up on the sailboats, and fixed their eyes on the jet skis. Certainly, they must be James-children-proof – or so J.J. and I foolishly thought. Next thing we knew, they came back in with the report that Rachel's jet ski motor conked out – and she was casually drifting off to sea – legs up, stretched out catching some rays, while waiting to be rescued. This time it was not quite so entertaining – even the rescue squad – who could not find her, looked more concerned than irritated. I was beginning to have old feelings of missing-child-panic rise up. Finally, thank God, she was found.

It was during this vacation that J.J. and I received one of the best compliments we have ever been given. The kids had actually relaxed and were sitting and talking one night. They began, of course, by critiquing J.J. and me. "You know," Rachel said, "I figured out that mom and dad haven't taught us how to do well in school, as much as how to do well in life." She went on to note that her friends' parents were really strict about school and grades; but not about how they dressed and what they did. I responded that it was because dad and I thought that character and morality were among the most important things – not just getting good grades. Grades, after all, last through school; character lasts forever.

It was a nice moment of peace between us all, and perhaps what set me up for such shock the next night.

We had given the children fairly free reign during our vacation. We would eat dinner, and then J.J. and I would go listen to the piano bar and the children would go play pool, Ping-Pong, walk the beach, or do one of the many resort activities. We would then check in on them when we were going to bed; and make sure they were not following too far behind. Having been raised as 'Navy brats' – we knew we could count on them looking out for each other – which they have always done. Although, in the teen years, 'looking out of each other' got a new name. It was now called 'partners in crime'.

This night, the partners in crime thing got taken a little bit too far.

When J.J. and I did our late night rounds, we could only find Colby and Sarah. That is a fairly odd combination, as Sarah is almost always found with her older sisters. We began asking questions. Finally it came out. Jessica and Rachel had made 'friends' with one of the ground crew boys – a local boy who worked for the resort. They had gone out to 'party' with him – against Colby and Sarah's advice, and pleas, to remain on the resort.

You know how you read in books, 'and then her heart felt like lead and sunk into her gut' and you always say "what in the WORLD are they talking about?!" Well, now I know. A cold wave of fear came over me. I wanted to call the police immediately – but J.J. asked me, "Just what will we say? 'Our daughters have gone out with a local boy –and since we Americans are convinced that the local boys are all murderers and criminals – the (local) police need to jump on this case right away...!' Oh, I'm sure they'd put extra guys on it immediately..."

Or not.

J.J. finally calmed me down and said the words that a control freak mom does not want to hear: "There is nothing we can do. We have no idea where they have gone, or where they could be. It is in God's hands now. We just have to pray."

I fell asleep doing just that.

The next day, I woke up and ran next door to the room housing all four children. They were all asleep in bed – and I thanked God for His protection.

Yes, He had protected their lives; but I was clueless as to what had happened to their souls.

The girls came to us once they woke up; apologizing like crazy and assuring us that they had 'learned their lesson' and would never, ever do something that stupid again. Colby and Sarah simply had a grim look about them, and had I looked closely enough – I would have also seen a look of total terror in Sarah's eyes.

For Jessica and Rachel had gone with this young Bahamian boy and his friend. They had been taken to a part of the island where they were told –rather matter of factly – to remain in the car, since if others saw them in that area – they would not make it back to the hotel alive that night. Eventually, they made it to a small house. All seemed okay, until what the girls thought was a 'joint' came out. They were asked if they wanted to smoke it. Being up for a party, they said yes. Rachel later said that the moment she inhaled, she was immediately overcome with an absolutely terrifying fear. She began to freak out, and made such a fuss that the boys took her and Jessica back to the hotel – they didn't want any trouble.

When Jessica and Rachel got back to their hotel room – they woke up Colby and Sarah – who looked with horror upon Rachel. She had turned deathly white, and her eyes were bulging out of her head. At one point, she ended up in the bathroom, clawing at her throat and insisting that something was choking her. She began striking out at the air around her and demanding that the kids stop choking her. They fearfully insisted that there was nothing there – nothing was choking her – nothing was on her. Nonetheless, she kept choking, coughing, gagging and spitting – constantly clawing out at nothing – to get it off of her. Jessica, in turn, began spastically rocking back and forth over and over again. Colby kept telling her to stop – but she had no idea what he was talking about – she didn't realize that she was moving at all. It was a terrifying night for them all; and when Jessica woke the next morning, she was afraid to look at Rachel. She was convinced that she would discover her dead.

However, she was fine and with an obvious sigh of relief – they all came to us and apologized. It actually was a sincere apology. They had had the scare of their lives; but fortunately – they thought – it was over...

As I've mentioned, the problem with seeing the world through worldly eyes, is that evil disappears from your view. Yet it never really disappears. You think that you are walking in a kingdom of light, but in reality, you are walking in the wrong kingdom – and you don't even know it. And the problem with walking in the wrong kingdom, is that sometimes that kingdom can come and start to walk in us. We may not even know it – but sooner or later – we begin to figure it out.
Chapter 12: "And if the light in you is darkness, how great will the darkness be." (Matthew 6:23)

The first one to fall was Jessica. She had decided to take the LSAT and try to become a lawyer. We sent her to a class to prepare her for the test. She was acing it. The day of the test, I expectantly sent her off – that afternoon, the door flew up and a sobbing Jessica walked in. It seems that the minute she sat down and looked at the test –she froze. She could not remember a single thing. Not only could she not remember the material; but she couldn't even make sense of the words on the page.

Huh? This was not the Jessica I knew – she was usually top in her class. She had been blessed with a sharp mind. Obviously, that blessing was there – but something else was there too; blocking it from working this time. Well, we figured, perhaps it was a freak thing, so she decided to try again. While sitting around waiting to 'try again', she began to put her focus more on having a good time.

Colby and Rachel, of course, continued their 'partners in crime' activities; but with even more of a vengeance. They had always been close, having grown up 19 months apart, but now they began to fight more and more. My journal records more and more instances of Rachel screaming through dinner. She hated us, we were horrible, she couldn't wait to leave, she would hate us forever – all those little sweet things you love to hear come from your children...

And she began to lose weight.
Chapter 13: "Woe to you who destroy, but you weren't destroyed; and who betray, but nobody betrayed you!..." (Isaiah 33:1)

I should mention that J.J. and I had, for the prior year or so, debated moving the children out of Connecticut. Every time there was a new crisis, we would discuss the benefits of getting out. But then we would back pedal. It is not an easy decision to leave your children's childhood home. We had been there 10 years. I had built up a (now) thriving and successful law office – making more money than I could ever imagine. Clients came to me as much on word of mouth as they did on advertisement. The Court had asked me to become a 'Special Masters' – mediating between divorcing parties and their attorneys in hopes of finding common ground and lowering the hostility. We had sunk deep roots in town; I was asked to run for Probate Judge, J.J. and Colby were the top golfers at the Country Club. J.J. was practically a celebrity as a former Navy fighter pilot, since there was not much of a military presence in our very liberal state. Places that worship rebellion rarely embrace the concept of sacrificing for something bigger than yourself – but even so, they are attracted to the oddity of it – hence, I believe, the fascination with J.J., and our prior-military-family. Even our children – who were so awful to us – were actually responsible and respectful to other adults; and greatly liked by all. They had also all been blessed with incredibly good looks, and people were always remarking on how 'stunningly beautiful' they were. (When J.J. was still in the Navy, he had been the lead Test Pilot on a project that had a huge 'press release'. The young female reporter followed J.J. around all day, gushing to everyone that she had found "the real Tom Cruise!!!" J.J. never lived it down among the other pilots; but I guess the kids' proverbial 'acorns' did not fall far from his 'tree'!) Nonetheless, the children were also looked upon with some curiosity. In a place where most of their friends cared nothing for their own siblings; our children were often asked how in the world they had become so close. In fact, I was told that our reputation in town was akin to the 'Kennedy's' – the perfect family who could do no wrong.

Note to self: anytime you hear you, or anything associated with you, called 'perfect' – duck quickly, a blow is coming...

But nonetheless, you can see why it was such a tough decision to move. Our families were close by; in fact, that was why we moved there. But that was another thing. Once we had moved so close, we came to realize that we actually had little in common with my family. There was a HUGE elephant in the room whenever we got together. That elephant was that my family, having been raised as good New Englander's; pretty much hated Christianity, and we were (shock!) Christians. Now they, like other New Englander's, will not tell you that they hate Christians – banish the thought! They just detest people who actually believe that Jesus Christ is God, and then have the audacity to live like they believe it! I foolishly tend to think that that is what a Christian is, and does. No. In New England speak, (and in the rest of the secular/pagan world), a Christian and/or Catholic, is a 'good' person.

Okay, I like to play along, so I ask: "define 'good'". You find out pretty quickly that 'good' is 'tolerant'. Okay, (I still like to play along), define 'tolerant'. 'Tolerant', you are told, is accepting any and all lifestyles, any and all actions, and any and all viewpoints – EXCEPT, of course, one that believes Jesus is God, and that we should live like we believe it. That is 'intolerant'.

Have I lost you?

It's quite easy to find yourself lost if you look at the world with the eyes of faith – in a part of the world that has made faith the enemy. So I will summarize it for you. A New England Christian/Catholic has learned to define evil as good. A mean, bad, hateful Christian/Catholic, on the other hand (according to those same New Englanders), continues to insist that evil is.... well, evil. Hence my dilemma with my family.

Don't get me wrong; if you were to meet my parents and siblings, you would like them. They are actually good people. However, like the fish swimming in a toxic cesspool, they have been living among a dark culture that tells them that evil is good; and that anyone who points out the opposite is bad. And in a dark culture, the spiritual entities swirling around and constantly encouraging hatred for such people intensify. Hence, my interactions with my family went something like this. I would show up at family get-togethers, and family – after a little while – would begin ridiculing Catholics and/or Christians. The whole group (while knowing that I was a Catholic Christian) would chuckle and laugh at how stupid they were, how mean they were, how hateful they were, how fill-in-the-blank-with-something-awful they were. And then I would leave, and cry on the way home. I could never quite figure out how people who were deliberately mean and hateful to me could be accusing anyone else of being mean and hateful – but I am obviously not looking at the world through New Englander's eyes. It is okay to be hateful to peaceful and loving Catholics/Christians who would never think of being hateful back. That just shows those Catholic/Christians how tolerant you are; and how hateful they are.

Get it? No? Well, do you get this? : "And if the light in you is darkness, how great will that darkness be." Matthew 6:23

The darkness was great.
Chapter 14: "...When you have finished destroying, you will be destroyed; and when you have made an end of betrayal, you will be betrayed." (Isaiah 33:1)

It was actually my family that tipped the balance toward moving, which is pretty ironic, since they were the reason I had brought my children into that darkness to begin with. I had wanted to live near 'home'. To accommodate that request, J.J. was driving 2 and ½ hours to work each time he had to take a trip. As an airline pilot; that was 3 or more times a week. Sure, my family had not exactly been very tolerant of our faith, but that affected me more – since they were rarely rude when J.J. was around. Anyway, I could just avoid family get-togethers. So the ugliness never really got on J.J.'s radar screen.

And then Colby changed schools.

At the beginning of Colby's senior year at Academy, his Catholic high school; he came to J.J. and I and expressed the great desire to transfer to the local public school where "all my friends are". He had well thought out reasons and, wanting to treat him as the adult he was becoming, J.J. and I listened, investigated, debated the pros and cons with him and ultimately agreed that he could.

Two weeks later, he wanted to transfer back.

I have identified the actual grey hairs on my head associated with this fiasco, in case you are interested. For you see, the Catholic school did NOT accept senior transfers. Especially seniors with attitude – aka, our son. This actually is a certifiable instance, however, where sports DID save my child because, since Colby was one of their best golfers, and since they were hoping to make it to States – they made an exception. After letting us sweat it out.

No problem, I had plenty of room for stress in my life. Or not.

Anyway, things calmed down and we had peace – until the day J.J. came home from the golf course, breathing hard and looking to hurt someone. It appeared that word was going around the club that Colby had left Academy not because he had wanted to (put us through hell), but because he had been thrown out for 'smoking pot'. Well, you know how rumors go: you correct the lie, find out who your enemy is – and keep a safe distance in the future. J.J. did just that. Tracing it through the guys at the country club, he came to a good friend who was the original source. The friend apologized, but told J.J. that he had had his doubts until he discovered that the rumor originated from my sister, and hence he had figured it had to be true.

J.J., of course, went ballistic. This was not just any sister. This was my little sister who I had pretty much raised since I was 8 years old – and in many ways, was still doing so. Except now J.J. was part of the equation, making personal sacrifice after personal sacrifice, to help me keep her on her feet. This was no easy task. As newlyweds, she had moved in with us when my parents discovered she was addicted to drugs and they gave up on her. We de-toxed her. The pattern had pretty much continued from there. We had given her money, dropped everything whenever she was in trouble, helped (in a big way) to get her the very home she now lived in – in our town. The list goes on and on. Never, in a million years, would J.J. have thought that that was how she would repay us – slander our son's good name, right when he was trying to get picked up to play golf in college – all over town. J.J. looked at me, and through clenched teeth said, "It's time to leave."
Chapter 15: "For how can I endure to see the evil that would come to my people? How can I endure to see the destruction of my relatives?" (Esther 8:6)

So that spring, when I began to notice Rachel getting thinner, was the same time that I was: closing down and selling my business, going through hundreds of old client files to transfer them over, transferring leases, notifying courts, shutting off suppliers, all while preparing for court and finishing up all outstanding law cases. And that was just the office. At home, we were finding a realtor, patching up and packing up the house in an effort to sell it. We were redoing landscaping, showing the house, and, once we had a buyer, jumping through every hoop that came our way to keep them. Since we had decided to 'save money' and move ourselves, I was single handedly packing up our 3500 square foot home, full attic and basement AND the 2 downtown offices that I had filled with furniture and supplies. On the side, we were helping Colby find, and apply to, colleges. Then we were taking trips to let him check out schools and their golf programs. Getting him recruited entailed putting together a huge golf 'resume' of all that he had done for the last few years. J.J. spent hours on it, with Colby getting him the information whenever he could. Although West Point wanted him, Colby came home from the interview shaking his head. "They have," he said in disdain, "more rules than ACADEMY!!"

In addition, J.J. was continuing to drive his 2+ hours trip back and forth to work, while every single ice storm and blizzard that could possibly hit during his trip – did. On my part, I was taking one trip after another (in all my spare time) trying to find a rental for our family in Northern Virginia. After I did, I was then driving U-Haul's down the eastern seaboard filled with stuff to put in it. J.J. drove a U-Haul to the cottage in Prince Edward Island, I drove one to North Carolina. We became experts in the moving industry; packing, cleaning and hauling. Fortunately, we never took up chewing tobacco.

All while the teenage 'partners in crime' continued their unlawful shenanigans. Rachel kept screaming, Jessica kept partying, Colby kept breaking curfew and Sarah kept fearfully getting ill. An example occurred when Rachel's friend Jeannie posted pictures of all of them drinking beer on her Facebook page (after, of course, taking herself OUT of the picture). We got a call from Rachel's school, Avalon; Rachel was suspended. In the process, they also let us know that they would be calling Colby's school – where he would be thrown off the golf team for drinking alcohol. That struck us as odd. It was one thing to punish your own student for something; it was another to go out of your way to injure her brother. For if Colby was off the team; his chances at college golf were pretty much over.

But I had had a little history with Avalon High School. A Catholic all girls school, I had questioned a few of their actions. First they had planned to bring in a magician who did hypnosis and black magic for Jessica's Senior Class sleepover party.

Huh? I called and asked if they really wanted to have someone who engaged in occult practices spending an evening with their students – at a Christian school. They reluctantly cancelled the magician. Then they brought in gays and lesbians to teach the girls that homosexuality was nothing other than an alternative lifestyle. Two of their teachers were living in a lesbian relationship and were cited for their 'bravery' in doing so. Jessica – having been brought up in a Christian home – had the guts to question them on that. Jessica was promptly ostracized the remainder of her time there.

I should have had a clue when their religious talk never quite brought up the word "Jesus", but always spoke of the "Spirit", and on occasion, "the Spirit, She..."

Nonetheless, our family was marked as suspicious, since we were not drinking the New England Catholic Kool-Aid. Hence, the odd behavior of actually trying to destroy our son's college golf chances. J.J. and I had yet another battle on our hands. Interestingly, Rachel's friend Jeannie – who started this whole nightmare by posting the pictures – watched us go through all this, sympathizing that Rachel was suspended, and Colby would have his golf chances ruined – all while maintaining the pictures on her website. It was only after our meeting with Avalon, when she asked and found out that HER name had come up – that she went into her Facebook page and deleted them. Heaven forbid she worry about someone else's life besides her own. And yet, in the secular/pagan world, she qualified as a dear and best friend.

So it is little wonder that Rachel's thinness went unnoticed. Especially since Jessica wigged out first.

As usual, it was just another day in the house. Jessica had used the car the night before and I was off on a weekend day of running the younger girls everywhere. I picked up Jessica's purse to fish out my keys – and marijuana spilled out. Since the rest of the house was still sleeping – I hid it and planned to address it later. I also left a note for J.J.. After everything our kids had done and been involved in, I figured this was just another parenting mountain to climb. Hence, I was caught off guard with his reaction.

He went ballistic.

Suddenly, in the midst of (and probably as a result of) the seemingly insurmountable stress that he was under, J.J. looked upon Jessica as the root of all evils. He could no longer take the chance that she would 'infect' the rest of the children (most of whom I had assumed were infected long ago...). He ordered her out of the house. Now.

Between errands, while on my cell phone, I managed to contact The Meier Clinic in Washington DC and secure Jessica a spot. At this point, we had had a long history of Jessica acting pretty impulsively, and I had considered Meier Clinic in the past after reading the book, Blue Genes, by Dr. Meier.4 In it, he had detailed the physical AND spiritual conditions underlying so many of the cases he had treated there. It was a Christian medical/counseling facility; and one where I knew the doctors were all working with a complete toolbox. Of course, being a Christian facility – our insurance did not cover her treatment. I plain and simply did not care. Plus, due to J.J.'s reaction, I no longer had the option of thinking about it. It was Meier Clinic – or the street. The next day found me driving Jessica, and all her stuff, to Meier Clinic in Northern Virginia (in all my spare time). I got her settled in with J.J.'s sister Chrissie who lived there; and drove back home. Satan, enraged again at the positive turn J.J.'s anger had resulted in, didn't let me go easily – first I came down with a horrific flu that had me lying on my sister-in-laws tiny guest bathroom floor for 2 days throwing up.

In all my spare time.

With Jessica out of the house, the odds were a little better. I began to notice Rachel's weight loss. Of course, she denied it. I was not convinced. As the winter clothes were being shed, it was more and more obvious – she had lost quite a bit of weight. I began to take her to the doctor. The doctor, a woman about my age, barely covered her condescending attitude. Obviously, I was a mother who needed a 'hobby'. "Rachel is fine", she assured me, "you are just over reacting." She insisted on talking with Rachel alone. Months later, after Rachel came back to the light, she told me what those 'talks' consisted of. The doctor was constantly trying to give her birth control pills. She asked Rachel if she was dating anyone. Rachel said yes, but that she was waiting until marriage to engage in sex. We were a Catholic family, she informed the doctor, and therefore we tried to avoid sinful behavior. The doctor insisted that that was foolish, that she was just being brainwashed by repressive parents, and that she would most likely change her mind – better to go on the drugs now. My daughter was 16 – she still could not take an aspirin in school without my permission. No problem, though, when it came to the very altering of her body hormones and chemistry – all of which has been shown to have significant detriment to growing bodies. Not to mention, the encouragement to destroy her heart and soul.

Of course, all of this makes sense in a secular/pagan culture.

Nonetheless, I continued the doctor visits. I kept insisting Rachel was getting thinner; the doctor kept insisting I was overreacting (or should I say 'repressive'?). Rachel was just trying to 'look good', and we've already mentioned that this is a god that EVERY pagan in America can get behind. She spoke to me as one would speak to a child; or an idiot; or say – a Catholic mom concerned about her daughter's body, mind AND soul. Any day, I expected her to give me a cross-stitch hobby kit.

Until the prom. When Rachel's boyfriend Michael and his mother showed up for the pictures, she came floating down the stairs. That's when the truth became known – to all. The dress she chose to wear was beautiful; a golden color, the silkiness of it flowed down over her body – or should I say skeleton? Her head looked so big in proportion that she seemed to have a pumpkin sitting on her shoulders. J.J. and I were in shock. With a house full of company, it was not exactly the best time to 'have a talk with Rachel.' She left for the prom.

In addition, it was a BIG weekend. Colby was graduating high school, and Sarah was performing in the school play she had been practicing for all semester. Our home was right between both schools. Academy High School was 30 minutes north of our house, Avalon High School was 20 minutes west of that, and Faith Elementary School was 30 minutes south. It was an hour drive between Colby and Sarah's schools – but I was pretty used to this drive. You see, every time the teenagers were grounded, they lost car privileges and I had to drive them back and forth to school. Needless to say, with my teenagers, I was racking up the miles... We averaged about $1000 worth of gas each month.

This BIG weekend was pretty much par for the course in our lives those days. We had lunch scheduled with my parents, and then we all planned to go to Colby's Baccalaureate Mass, on Saturday afternoon. Immediately after, we were going to leap into the car to get Sarah to her play on time, for her first evening performance. Her play would be over about 9-10 pm, and then the plan was to go home to bed. The next day, Colby's actual graduation was scheduled, which J.J.'s folks were going to attend (we had limited tickets for family each day, and hence broke it up between the two). Immediately after the graduation, we had pictures planned, and then a dash to squeeze in a celebratory late lunch with J.J.'s folks before Sarah's final performance would start. We had the weekend planned down to the minutes – with not a second to spare. But in our lives, that was just not difficult enough.

Saturday dawned, and as usual, I had high hopes. I got up at the crack of dawn and squeezed in a run with the dogs. A quick shower, and I was feeling on top of the world. Till I woke up Rachel. She was in a horrible mood, and before her eyes were even open, she was angrily proclaiming that she was NOT going to Colby's Baccalaureate ceremony!

I decided to give her time to get over herself, and proceeded to leave her room. That's when I remembered that I had given her about $50 the night before (in case she was in trouble and needed it). Seeing her purse laying in the corner, I went into it to take the money back – and found the pills. I had no idea what they were – it was a prescription in someone else's name – and so I quietly went downstairs to the computer and looked them up. Concerta. A drug used to control ADHD.

Huh? (There were a lot of 'huh?s' in my life those days...)

I researched further – I'm an attorney, remember? This is what we do. I found out that ADHD drugs, in a child who does NOT have ADHD, causes a loss of appetite. They stop eating.

Bingo.

While Rachel was still up in her bed, loudly proclaiming her refusal to go to Colby's ceremony, I quietly pulled J.J. aside and told him what I had found. In the midst of our discussions, Rachel came storming into the room. She had looked in her purse and found her drugs missing. Amazingly, she now stood in front of us, accusing me of taking them and demanding that I give them back. That was our first clue that she had lost her mind – little did we know it was more that she was no longer in control of it.

Immediately, J.J. started telling Rachel that she sure WAS going to her brother's ceremony, and that we would deal with this issue later! A full on screaming match ensued; and I finally insisted that we just leave her alone and go by ourselves. The whole way there, we were an emotional mess. I called our neighbor Terry, a young mom who I know Rachel liked. I filled her in just a bit, and asked her to check on Rachel – I was concerned for her being alone. We were all such a wreck that the fact that Sarah cried the whole way there did not strike me as odd. It was only months later that I discovered that Rachel had told her that she would kill herself while we were gone, and if she told us – she would definitely kill herself. Sarah, 13 years old, had no idea what to do, but believed that she would never see her sister alive again.

Have I mentioned how difficult things had become in our home?

We put on our good public faces, and made a passible show for Colby's big event. After all, he was graduating high school for goodness sake – this was not just another day for him! We stuck to the plan and went straight to Sarah's play. At 10 pm when we finally got home, we discovered the house was empty. Rachel was gone. I began calling her friends, and soon tracked her down at Jeannie's house. Jeannie lived about an hour away. Rachel refused to come home, and so I called Jeannie's mother – who was out partying somewhere. This point had pushed me beyond all endurance. In my best 'I will see you in Court' voice, I calmly told Jeannie's mother that I would be calling the police and reporting her for abducting my daughter; and that the police would soon be by her home to pick Rachel up. Suddenly her plans to 'rescue' my daughter from her mean and overly strict (religious nut) parents fizzled. She told me that she would meet me half way to my house – with Rachel in the car. I got there by midnight. Wordlessly, I picked up my daughter – I still had Colby's graduation, and Sarah's final performance, to attend to in just a few hours.

The next day dawned early, and hard. I had been up most of the night dealing with, and then worrying about, Rachel. The routine repeated with Rachel insisting that she would NOT GO to her brother's graduation. I was too exhausted to care at this point. I left early to take him to his graduation set up. Upon arriving, I realized that we could not get in without tickets; however, my brain was so fried that, try as I might, I actually could not remember what I had done with them. Poor J.J. searched the house high and low till he stumbled upon them. (One) crisis averted. J.J.'s folks showed up all excited for the big graduation – and dressed to the nines. We showed up looking like we had been in a brawl – and lost. We kept to the schedule once again – neighbor checking on Rachel, us plastering enthusiastic smiles on our faces, everyone else having a wonderful time.

Why ruin everybody's day?

We got through another day of celebrating graduation, lunch and final play. Academy award winners have absolutely NOTHING on J.J. and I. Saying goodbye to family and friends, we set our faces grimly and headed for home. Another huge fight with Rachel awaited us when we got home. J.J. kept trying to talk to her; she kept screaming at us. She was like a child possessed; attacking J.J. at every opportunity. At one point she grabbed a butcher knife and threatened us with it; then suddenly turned and slashed her arm. We were beside ourselves. J.J. finally got her calmed down, and shaken, he sat in a chair outside of her bedroom until she fell asleep. We were too afraid to let her out of our sight for a minute. In the early morning hours, we finally fell asleep; exhausted.

The BIG weekend had come to an end.

The next day, Monday, arrived with no improvement. Desperate, we kept trying to figure out what was going on. We removed more things from her room. She went ballistic; grabbed my jewelry and began running around the house – throwing it out the windows. At a loss, I called the doctor's office and told her what was going on – she no longer thought I needed a hobby. Instead, she gave me a phone number to call if Rachel got completely uncontrollable. It was a mobile crisis unit, and they would come and take her away.

It was just a matter of time before she wigged out again. To the day I die, I will never forget this moment. Rachel was trying to punch J.J. in the face, and he had grabbed her arms to restrain her. Suddenly, she grabbed the front of his shirt and slowly began to walk up his body like a spider. He and I both stood there in shock. Her body had become completely disjointed while climbing. She finished by kicking him in the face, and knocking him backwards. As she landed, I suddenly reached out and grabbed her and said in a loud voice, "In the name of Jesus, I command any evil thing to leave you!!"

Rachel paused, her eyes suddenly focused, and she looked at me in shock for a moment; then as though recovering herself, she asked sarcastically "What are you doing?!".

She leapt up and ran out of the room. J.J. and I just stood there, staring at each other, speechless. Finally I said, "I think that there is something demonic going on here."

"Oh yeah?" J.J. responded, "All I know is that every time she attacks me, she first yanks the cross off of my neck and stomps on it. I have had to put it back together more times than I can count."

Soon a new confrontation broke out downstairs. J.J. could barely restrain her as she tried to attack him and the kids. I could hear him yelling for help, and then heard him yell for me to call the mobile crisis unit. I grabbed the phone and ran outside so that I could hear above the screaming and fighting. A woman answered and I began to speak. Suddenly, it hit me that I had lost control – I was asking someone to come and take my child away – where was this going? How would it end? What would become of my once sweet child?

I began to sob. I could barely speak through the sobbing; but slowly I managed to get my words out. I told her our doctor had given us this number; I asked that they come because things had gotten out of control. There was a pause; and then the woman apologized. Apparently, they could not take someone under the age of 18. They would not come. She tried to give me encouragement, but I actually felt a sigh of relief. We had come this close to losing her; I realized that I was not ready to give up.

When I went back inside, things had calmed down. J.J. was holding Rachel down and Colby was slowly reasoning with her. She began to come back to normal. A short while later, I went into her room to talk with her. I asked her if she thought that there was demonic activity involved in what was going on. She looked at me and asked, "Why do you think I never want to sleep alone?" She went on to tell me that there had been a presence around her for a long time. At night she could sense it in her room, watching her. That was why she always ran to sleep with Sarah.

I decided to call in the Rosary group the next day.

_____________________

4 Meier, Paul D, Todd Clements, Jean-Luc Bertrand, David Mandt Sr. Blue Genes: Breaking Free from the Chemical Imbalances That Affect Your Moods, Your Mind, Your Life, and Your Loved Ones. Carol Stream, IL: Tyndale House Publishers, Inc. 2006‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬
Chapter 16: "For the sin of their mouth, and the words of their lips, let them be caught in their pride, for the curses and lies which they utter." (Psalm 59:12)

My best friend and I had started a Rosary group about a year or so previously. I remember the first night we began it – we sat at her house, looking at each other across her table and praying that God would send more women to pray with us. We had met a few months earlier since we occasionally worked together. I was a defense attorney, and she was a state prosecutor. Always on opposing sides, we were nonetheless both Catholics who were sick of the pagan culture surrounding us. We resolved to do something; anything. A year or so later, by the time my family had reached this crisis point, the group had grown to almost 10 or so women – all prayer warriors.

The next day, I took Rachel back to her doctor. Did I mention that the doctor no longer thought that I needed a hobby? In fact, she was so beside herself that I don't even think she thought of birth control once. Now this WAS serious!! Rachel confessed to having tied weights to her thighs each time she had come to be weighed. The doctor was furious – how dare this teenager outwit her, and prove her wrong! Not to mention proving her foolish! But that happens a lot when you are a pagan, living in a pagan world. Foolish is only the beginning.

Meanwhile, I had called Avalon High School to tell them about our discovery of Rachel's anorexia. "Oh?" the secretary responded with a yawn, "Let me transfer you to our Guidance Officer, she handles all of those."

Huh?

Sure enough, low and behold, a huge percentage of the Catholic girls who went to Avalon had serious physical, mental and emotional issues – and anorexia was high on that list. Remember? This is the religious school that valued tolerance, diversity, and 'the spirit' – while NOT tolerating people who actually believed that the 'Spirit' was a person named Jesus, and that He was NOT sharing His power with a 'She'. Oddly enough – that 'Spirit' they talked about? 'She' was leading their girls to death.

Imagine that.

Even so, Avalon did provide us with an exhaustive list of Eating Disorder facilities (where 'all their girls' went); and that is where we got the name of Renfrew. Renfrew was the first facility in the nation, many decades ago, which recognized eating disorders as an issue. It turned out that our insurance would not cover the original Renfrew facility that was located in Philadelphia; but they would cover the branch located in Florida. I added it to our list of possible solutions.

At the same time, I had to take Sarah to her doctor appointment, and her softball practice. I dropped Rachel back off at the house and contacted Renfrew and the other facilities on my cell phone while running errands and waiting to get Sarah after her practice. In the middle of it, my phone rang. It was Rachel on the other line, sobbing. Apparently she and J.J. had gotten into another huge fight; this time with Rachel claiming that he attacked her. They both insisted that the other had started it; but nonetheless, she had coldcocked him with a fist to the jaw, and J.J. had ended up tackling her onto the tiled bathroom floor. It's a miracle that her bones didn't crack in her now skeleton frame. She had called the police, and they had come to the house and talked both she and J.J. back down. Rachel begged me to come save her from J.J., J.J. insisted he could no longer deal with her and wanted her out of the house.

I had no idea what to do – I was beside myself. I told them to stay away from each other, and let me handle things when I got back home. I was concerned that whatever demon was in our home was causing everyone to get all worked up too. I hung up and felt like a thousand pound weight was crushing my heart. I could barely breath, and just sat in the car sobbing and praying for help.
Chapter 17: "Then your light shall break forth as the morning, and your healing shall spring forth speedily; and your righteousness shall go before you; the glory of Yahweh shall be your rear guard." (Isaiah 58:8)

The next day dawned early: it became the day when the healing began. I had told J.J.'s mother Margie about what was going on with Rachel at the graduation luncheon. Margie's Pastor's wife, Louise, was involved in a healing ministry that she called 'Theophostic Prayer'. I had never heard of it before. Margie told me that she had had a session and found great healing. I was desperate, and so asked Margie to schedule an appointment for Rachel immediately. We woke up early, and headed to Groton to meet Margie, and Louise.

The premise behind Theophostic Prayer is that we have all been wounded, not so much by how we are injured – as by the lies that Satan places in our minds when we are. So, a child who is beaten will be able to get over the hurt; but the belief that they are 'bad' and deserve to be abused stays with them forever – at least until Jesus is able to reveal to them the truth. Theophostic Prayer is a ministry that brings them back to that original memory so that Jesus can show them the real truth in it. And this is what Louise did with Rachel.

First, she made sure that Rachel knew, accepted and invited Jesus in to her life, and her memories. She did – which I believe was the turning point. While we all prayed, Louise had Rachel get in touch with the pain she was experiencing, and try to remember when she had felt it before. Rachel remembered it starting in 8th grade, when she could never get attention for being good; and so she decided to get attention by being bad. Rachel expressed the belief that her father thought she was bad; and Louise asked if she wanted to know what Jesus thought of her. She said yes, and while we all silently prayed, Rachel had visions of a father lovingly gazing at a child, holding her and walking with her.

Louise then asked Rachel if she was able to give Jesus the guilt she carried. Rachel tried; but said it was like a backpack that she could not get off. Louise suggested that perhaps she should ask Jesus to just take it from her. Rachel thought of that, but then responded with words that broke my heart. "I'm afraid to do that," she said, "it is all I have to define myself with – I'm afraid to lose it." Finally Louise asked Rachel to ask Jesus to show her how He envisioned her. After a few minutes, Rachel chuckled a bit. She said that a picture of Santa's workshop had come to her. In it, she saw toys being put together, and she felt God saying that that was how perfectly He had made her. Louise then searched in her bible and read the Psalm "For I knit you in your mother's womb..." Rachel stared in wonder. She then told us that before she had seen Santa's workshop, she had seen a little old lady sitting and knitting – but that it had not made any sense to her – so she didn't mention it to us.

Louise then, after praying, turned to us and told us that this was a generational sin problem. She ticked off a whole list that had come to her: performance based love, negativity and harsh words, occultism and finally, building walls and denying feelings to deal with it all. Each one of these struck home; they were things that both my extended family and J.J.'s had had to deal with. We each grew up in them, and they were repeating in our generation. Rachel and I both prayed that they would be broken.

We left that room as different people. Walking to the car, Rachel turned and told Margie and I that before we went in there she had felt this thing constantly sitting on her chest. It was always talking to her, telling her that she was ugly, that she was fat, that she was unlovable, that she had no reason for living, and on and on and on. However, she said, it was no longer on her chest. She could still hear it – but it was detached from her now, and traveled alongside. The voice was not as loud.

Unbelievable. But that was only the beginning of my education on the power, and authority, of God.
CHAPTER 18: "Behold, Yahweh's eye is on those who fear him, on those who hope in his loving kindness; to deliver their soul from death," (Psalm 33:18-19)

That same evening, the Rosary Group showed up. However, not all came. There were a couple women who, upon hearing that there was possibly demonic stuff going on, were just too afraid to come. At the time, I didn't blame them – and still don't. It's just that now I know how fooled, and hence ignorant, we have all been concerning this topic. We have grown up watching Hollywood movies of people, and even Priests (!), running screaming from the devil. But as with most everything else coming out of Hollywood – it is all untrue. For since we are believers in Jesus Christ; Satan has absolutely no power over us – other than what we actually give to him. He is like the rabid, vicious dog chained to the doghouse out back. As long as we don't venture into his territory – there is no way that he can get at us – and therefore there is no need for us to live in fear. It is only when we are ignorant of that chain; or when we are dumb enough to walk too close, that we find reason to be afraid.

My prayer warrior friends who showed up seemed to know that however, and we spent the night praying the Rosary and then walking throughout the house blessing it and delivering it from any evil. It was incredible the difference that one day had made...

But Satan does not give up without a fight.

J.J. woke up the next morning, and suggested that I take Rachel to Father Douglas at Prince Edward Island for additional prayer. If you recall, I spoke at length of him in my first little book – he was a retired 'White Father' from Africa (now back in his birth place in Prince Edward Island), and had spent a life time dealing with demonic activity there. He was the only one we knew who might be able to help – we were quite clueless when it came to this stuff. Rachel initially agreed to go, and we began packing. And then the phone call came...

I had contacted the doctor whose name was listed on the prescription drug I found in Rachel's purse the day after finding them. I needed to know if there were any long-term effects I had to watch for; and also wanted him to know that his patient was giving other students her medicine – according to Rachel, she was selling it at school. The doctor had asked if he could give my number to the mother of the girl, and I had said yes. The mother called the morning after our wonderful day.

When Rachel discovered that I had contacted the mother, and that word would get out that she had 'turned her daughter in', she wigged out again. Ranting and raving, she now refused to go to Prince Edward Island. We were almost back at square one – and in such a short amount of time. Obviously this was going to be harder than we thought... J.J. told me to just continue packing, and we tried to ignore her ranting for the rest of the day.

The next morning I was up at 4am. I bundled Rachel into the car, and headed north. We took our golden retriever Lady with us for protection. Rachel slept most of the way. When we got to the hotel at the half waypoint, the temperature was 92 degrees, and Rachel was in a foul mood. There's no way I could leave Lady outside in the car in that heat – and no way I wanted to be cooped up in a hotel room with my miserable daughter. I pressed on. Each time Rachel woke up, I would try to talk to her. I kept telling her over and over again that, no matter what was going on, she needed to remember the Scripture verse that said 'greater is He who is in me, then he who is in the world'. ("You belong to God, children, and you have conquered them, because greater is he who is in you than he who is in the world. " 1 John 4:4). I wasn't sure if she was even listening to a word I said.

At some point we stopped to get a bite to eat. Rachel was 'not hungry' and so I pleaded with her to eat something. She had half a tuna sandwich, and a couple spoonful's of soup. Then she was 'too stuffed' to eat anything else... I realized that this eating situation was something that I knew absolutely nothing about. We were soon back in the car where Rachel slept the remainder of the drive. Arriving at the cottage at 9pm, I hurriedly unpacked the car before dark. The 16-hour drive, and worry about Rachel, had wiped me out.

The next day I waited for Rachel to wake up. She didn't. Finally at 4pm she got up, in a foul mood because she had eaten 'so much food' yesterday. I managed to get her out to the beach, and she perked up somewhat. The rest of the day was spent fairly quietly. I drove her around showing her some of the sights, and we rented 2 movies to watch. Things remained calm – which was a blessing at this point.

Upon waking the next day, we headed out to Sunday Mass. There was a Prolife processional after the Mass which we took part in. However, Rachel was not dressed very warmly, and with so little muscle left to her – she had little ability to stay warm. We left before listening to the prolife speakers. For once in my life, I just could not handle listening to speakers talking of the urgency of prolife problems. I was just so overwhelmed with my own problems – that I knew if I heard just one more awful thing – I would simply fall apart. I could only fight one overwhelming evil at a time... Strangely, that night I no longer had any appetite for food. Thoughts kept coming to me that I really needed to lose weight; I was just putting on too many pounds. We went to bed without dinner.

That night, Rachel suddenly rushed into my bedroom and asked if she could climb into bed with me. Jolted awake, I said yes and rolled over. Soon we were both fast asleep. The next morning, I asked her why she had come into my room. She said that she had woken up to feel herself being battered. She could feel 'them' flying all around her, and smashing into her body. She was terrified, and in pain. Suddenly, she remembered what I had said to her in the car and she began repeating over and over out loud: "Greater is He who is me, then he who is in the world; greater is He who is me, then he who is in the world; greater is He who is me, then he who is in the world!" In amazement, she said that she watched as a glow began to come out of her chest. It grew brighter and brighter and brighter and – suddenly – the creatures were gone. That's when she jumped out of her bed and ran into mine. I asked her how she knew that these 'things' had been flying around her. She responded that she could feel the wind from their wings on her face as they passed. I just sat up in bed, dumbstruck. As Rachel slowly began to get out of bed, she let out a moan. I examined her body and sure enough, she was bruised and sore. It was time to get her to Father Douglas's – as soon as possible.

We went over to see him first thing. He listened to our story briefly, and then asked Rachel to sit quietly and close her eyes. While I watched, he reached out and with his eyes closed, slowly moved his hands in a big circle around her. After some time, he stepped back, opened his eyes and said, "Yes, there are spirits there."

Huh?

I had just watched him do nothing more than feel the air around her, so I asked how in the world he knew that there were spirits around her??!! "Because", he answered, "when I move my hands in the space around her, I can feel the wind from their wings as they try to get away." I sat there speechless.

Father Douglas then gave us a mini lesson on demonic activity. He said that there can be demon possession – where they take over your body – and demon obsession – where they continually harass you. Rachel immediately said that she believed she was suffering from BOTH.

Huh?

That's when the Bahamas story came out. I, once again, sat there speechless. This is not a normal reaction for me.

When she finished telling us the Bahamas story, she continued with her rationale as to why she was battling actual possession. She turned to me and said, "Mom, there have been some days when I have been looking at either you or Sarah and suddenly, out of the blue with no warning, I have wanted to tear you or her to shreds." She went on to explain that this was no 'ordinary' tearing to shreds, but that she actually pictured herself ripping the skin and muscle off of our bodies and tearing at us until nothing but our bones were left. She said that each time the image came to her – she was so shaken afterward because she had absolutely no idea where such an evil, gruesome and horrible thought had come from. But the thoughts had begun after the Bahamas trip, and had continued to return over and over. She now knew that it was a demonic spirit inside her that was prompting her to think such things. However, she said, it was gone since she had prayed with Louise and asked Jesus to save her. Now, she felt that she had demonic obsession, because she could still feel a demon at her side constantly whispering to her, and others flying around her face.

At this point we both just looked at Father Douglas. He believed that there may have been some kind of witchcraft/black magic spell associated with the 'joint' smoking they engaged in. In witchcraft-infested cultures, it is not uncommon for practitioners of black magic to conjure up spirits to attach to those who partake of the drugs they prepare. That is apparently what happened with the girls. It hit me – no wonder they had each begun to have so many more problems and issues after the trip!

With some trepidation, I asked Father what in the world we could do about this! He looked at me, a little confused, and said "We just get rid of it." Just like that. He then prayed over Rachel, and over me, and commanded that, in the Name, Power and Authority of Jesus, anything that was evil was to leave immediately.

And that, was that.

I remained somewhat skeptical. Father Douglas then suggested that he come by the cottage and pray the same deliverance prayer throughout it. That afternoon, he did so. He went into every room, sprinkling Holy Water, and commanded that all spirits leave immediately through the Power, Authority and Name of Jesus. As he left us, he turned and gave us a warning. He relayed that in most cases of demonic activity, the demons would make a try to return. He said that they tended to continue to come back for three days, to see if we had let our guards down – just as Jesus had mentioned in Scripture. We had to remember to simply demand that they leave, just like he had just done. And then he was gone.

I prepared for bed that night with quite some apprehension. While doing so, my gaze fell on the Blessed cross that I was wearing around my neck. I asked Rachel if she had hers with her. She didn't. I took it off, and, fastening it around her neck said, "Here, you need this more than me."

My instincts were right.

In the middle of the night, I suddenly woke up. Rachel was sleeping soundly next to me. I was filled with fear. At the same time, old memories of things I had done wrong flooded me. Over and over the thought came that I was worthless; a horrible person with no reason to live. I thought of the knives down in the kitchen, and realized that – with just one slice on my wrist – I could rid myself of this pain, and this world of my horrible presence. The thoughts were overwhelming. I had no idea what to do, and kept praying over and over, while drifting in and out of sleep. Each time I awoke, they would come back with a vengeance.

Suddenly, I came to my senses. Out loud, I repeated the words that I had heard Father Douglas say: "In the Name, Power and Authority of Jesus Christ, I command any and all evil to leave me and this place at once." Instantly – it was quiet – they were gone. I laid there in shock. I had no idea it would be that easy!

The next morning, I told Rachel what had happened. She relayed that she had slept peacefully all night. At one point, she said, she did wake briefly and heard the snarling, hateful voices in the room. She said that she quietly whispered one Hail Mary, and suddenly she felt what seemed to be two fingertips press her ears shut. She no longer could hear them. She believes it was her Guardian Angel, stopping up her ears, so she could get back to sleep.

Unbelievable... But I was becoming a believer faster by the minute.

We had a lovely day, and went sight seeing to Green Gables, the childhood home of relatives of the author of Anne of Green Gables. Everywhere we drove in Prince Edward Island, we were overcome by the beauty of it; the simplicity of it; the Grace of it. It was such a blessing to be there; and the beauty and peacefulness of it was quickly healing our souls. We got back home shortly before nightfall. Once again, I faced the evening with some apprehension.

The situation repeated itself. This time, however, the strength of it seemed less – and they were trying a new tactic. I woke with a terrible pain in my chest. It actually felt like there was a hook sticking in my chest. I figured that I must have pulled a muscle somehow, and gingerly tried to move to stretch it out somehow. The pain just increased. I laid there in pain, and it came to me how weak I was, how... worthless. I began to be bombarded once again, with horrible thoughts, suicidal imaginings. But I was slowly learning. "Wait a minute," I thought to myself. Once again, I spoke the words I had learned from Father Douglas, and, once again, it was all INSTANTLY gone. No debate, no fight, nothing – gone. And it slowly dawned on me – Satan is absolutely NO match for the power of God. Jesus fights. Jesus wins. And Jesus rules. Always.

We spent the last couple days up there in blissful peace. Rachel was like a sponge, soaking up everything I could possibly tell her about God, Scripture, the Saints, our faith. She had a hungry desire to pray the Rosary, and we began doing that together. We drove all over the island having a wonderful time together; each time we got to the top of another hill, yet an even more spectacular vista appeared before our eyes. It was like touring through heaven. It was just such a blessed, blessed time. And then it was time to go home. We had made such incredible progress, but I suppose I was a little naïve to think it was all behind us.
CHAPTER: 19 "Though I speak, my grief is not subsided. Though I forbear, what am I eased?" (Job 16:6)

The problem with 'woundedness', is that there are no quick fixes for it outside of the healing power of Christ. As we grow with our wounds, we develop habits and routines that help us deal with them. We think that these defense mechanisms are protecting us – when in reality they are preventing us from acknowledging our pain, turning to God, and seeking healing. In fact, those defense mechanisms, cruel as it may sound, are also sin. We have denied that God has the power to help us; we decide that it is all up to us. Does this sound familiar? 'And you shall be LIKE GOD!!!' Nothing keeps God from reaching down and helping us, more than pride – even if that pride comes from a desperate attempt to heal our own wounds.

As long as we do not turn to God for help – then we will remain in the same spot that woundedness has brought us to. And so you see that even though Rachel had been freed from demonic oppression – the wounds were still there; along with her habits of dealing with them – including starving herself if things got really bad. With a huge move in front of us, the leaving of her childhood home, friends and boyfriend – things weren't exactly going to be peachy keen anytime soon.

As I continued to pack up the house, getting rid of more and more things, all of the kids slowly came to realize that this was really happening – we were leaving for good. The sadness levels began to grow in the house – not the least of which were my own. I had sold my practice to Bill, the lawyer that had first hired me when I returned to the workforce. I left his employ after 2 years to begin my own practice. It was now very successful, and so he bought it when I offered it to him. The night I signed the papers giving him possession; he, J.J. and I went out in our cute little downtown for a drink. My office was just down the street in the historic building I had rented. J.J. had painted it, and I had decorated it to look lovely. Wherever we went, people knew us and gave us friendly and boisterous greetings. After an evening spent celebrating his new purchase, and our impending move, he turned to me and in utter seriousness said: "How can you ever leave all this? Have you lost your mind??!!"

How could I tell him that it was not my mind I was afraid of losing, it was my children's very souls – if we stayed.

And so the packing continued.

I experienced new wounds of my own. In the years we had lived there, J.J. and I had tried to make ourselves available to help friends, neighbors and family with moves and difficult times. In fact, we gave up our 20th wedding anniversary weekend away from the kids, because my sister had had no one to help her with her move. Yet, when it was our turn, when we sorely needed a hand – there were none but our own. Everyone was 'busy'. It hurt. That, combined with the pain I experienced seeing the children suffering so much at this impending life change left me increasingly numb. I had long known that I had my own issues with 'defense mechanisms' of turning off feeling when the feelings got too bad. The more I hurt, the more I convinced myself that I just didn't care. But denial is a tough place to live. Not only can you no longer find yourself – but you can no longer find anyone else. We all suffered alone.

The inevitable finally came. We had to leave. I had been packing for months, and now was only a day or so away from an empty house. I wanted to take one last walk through when it was empty – giving myself time to come to terms with the loss and a chance to move on. Once again, that was just wishful thinking. Each day dawned with me thinking I would be finished that day. Each day found us packing till late at night. The kids had been sitting with their friends for 2 days in the driveway – crying in anticipation. Finally J.J. and I could take it no longer. He insisted that I get in the car and start driving – it was at least a 6 to 7 hour drive; and it was already 5 o'clock at night. He said that he would finish up, and come down and meet me either late that night; or the next morning. He was driving an actual tracker trailer truck with all our remaining stuff.

I didn't want to go. The kitchen cabinets were still full, and there were still so many small odds and ends to tie up. But looking out the window, I knew that if I didn't leave, the girls would go to sleep in our house again – and have to repeat the agony of goodbyes all over again the next day. Wanting to scream out in disappointment, anger and anguish – I just gave in. I got the dogs in my minivan, had the girls get in Rachel's car and we both drove away.

It is a moment I will always remember. It is etched in my mind as clear as if it just happened. I am driving down the hill, looking back at my beloved home. It was now almost empty of my belongings. The landscaping was still there – each bush planted for a particular child. The 4 beautiful pear trees for the 4 pilot friends J.J. had lost on 9/11. The birdhouse he had stuck on a pole – simply cause I loved the look of it. The mother's day garden at the back, with the fence he had built with the children when they were still young – still innocent – still in love with their mommy. The stone wall at the back had grown over the years as each new stone popped out of the New England ground after a hard winter's freeze. I had loved the way we were building our 'colonial stone wall', just like the first colonists had done. There was the tire swing. It was the best one EVER because it sailed the children out, way out, over the top of the hill. They had a view into infinity as they squealed with glee.

We had laughed when we built the home and J.J. had insisted that the kitchen breakfast bar stick out 7 feet. "This way," he had said, "you can lay me out on it when I am old and dead and we won't have to hire a funeral home... Cause after all it took to build this house – I ain't leaving till the hearse takes me out!!!"

The story made for a wonderful late night neighborhood joke. And those neighbors that we had grown to love. Sure we had fought the 'bus stop wars' when the children's little legs were fiercely protected by moms who didn't want them to walk so far in the snow. But we had gotten over that. Now we enjoyed the bonfires late at night; the dogs that made the rounds and romped with the children; the reservoir across the road, behind the huge pine trees. Although off limits and owned by the water company, we still snuck over just to walk in the silent paths that Indians had once trod – picking up arrow heads every so often. When the children were really young, J.J. and they would sneak there with fishing poles – hoping for fish, but really just having fun. Those days had long since passed...

All these thoughts raced through my mind as I took one last look. In the eternal numbness that now seemed to go to my very soul, I was shaken to discover a searing pain. It began in my gut, grabbed ahold of my chest and rose to my throat. A jagged sob tore out, and another, and another, and another. Doubled over, crying without control, I drove away. My home, my life, my career, my history, my future plans – all were gone.

All were gone.

At the bottom of our hill I turned left, not right. How could I drive past our Norman Rockwell town, past the cute little law office I had built with my own two hands? I remembered moving into it giddy with anticipation; J.J. painting the walls a 'professional blue'. We giggled with thoughts of clients, cash flow, court battles, excitement. Now successful, now well known – I had essentially sold it so we could escape. Bill's words, as I handed over the keys, came back to my mind. "How can you ever leave all this? Have you lost your mind??!!" I had had no answer.

Pain can leave you without words; in fact, it frequently will.

By the time I reached the bottom of the last hill, I was awash in a sea of pain. Pain within, pain without. Behind me drove Rachel and Sarah – both sobbing; having spent the better part of the last two days sitting in the driveway and crying with their friends. There was the boy Rachel had been dating for 2 years – in their teenage hearts they were convinced they were 'meant' for each other and would be together forever. There was also Sarah's best friend Amy from across the street; they had first met as chubby 3 year olds fighting over ladybug jars. Amy was now in high school; now bereft at being left behind, left alone. A sea of pain, felt by – it seemed – an endless train of people. I felt to blame. Surely, if I had been a better mother – this would not have come to pass. Surely, I had dropped the ball somehow.

We drove through the night. Heaven and earth conspired against us. We had left, exhausted with grief, exhausted with work, at 5 pm for a 6-hour drive. We sat on the highway, one traffic jam after another, watching the clock tick by – too numb to protest, too exhausted to care. I forgot that the girls had never driven longer than 2 hours. They, in their grief, forgot too. At 3 a.m. we straggled into our new home – a tiny town house with a brown bracken pond across the street. If dead fish were floating in it – I would not have been surprised. Too tired to unpack even a pocketbook. We dragged our bodies the 3 levels to try to find a bed.

The next day, the 4th of July, we were alone in a new home, a new town, as far away from our New England country home as one family could get. We were the only Caucasians in a sea of immigrants outside of Washington DC. Groggy with lack of sleep, lack of rest, lack of everything that makes a person whole – I woke early to searing southern humidity and heat. Somebody had to walk the dogs. They, unlike the rest of us, truly were the innocent, unknowing parties.

That day, our town house was hit by lightning. In the hottest heat spell to hit that area in decades – we were without air conditioning. I didn't even flinch – this was pretty routine by now.

Perhaps, as I noted when beginning this tale, I need to mention these things. I downplay them, like they were just a slight detour on our path to LaaLaa land. But perhaps I cheat others from recognizing their pain. Perhaps I cheat myself – from recognizing my own.

Yes, Jesus' resurrection was spectacular and every day I am so very grateful and awed by it. But we forget, perhaps to our peril, that the road to resurrection can be traced with bloody footprints.

Sometimes they are His – sometimes they are ours...

It needs to be said.
CHAPTER 20: "Therefore you are without excuse, O man, whoever you are who judge. For in that which you judge another, you condemn yourself. For you who judge practice the same things." (Romans 2:1)

Our first summer in Virginia was a blur. I kept trying to keep everyone's spirits up – planning one thing after another to keep their minds off what we had left behind. School was approaching, and Rachel and Sarah were looking at attending a public school 2 to 3 times the size of their old schools – without knowing a single soul. They were absolutely obsessed with looking 'good' and of course with being 'cool'.

To my heartbreak, Colby had refused to come down to our new home. Upon graduating from high school, he got a job working for one of J.J.'s father's friends at their town in RI on the beach. I fought against it the whole way – but I lost. Yet it didn't take long for my in-laws to get mad at our son. They threw him out of their house and stuck him on a train down to us. He got off in Connecticut, and had his friends pick him up. They all went to a concert, leaving my in-laws upset that he was not made miserable by their actions.

This was the other aspect of modern day faith that I have encountered. In years past, faith seemed to begin focusing more on rules, and less on love. Hence, I have often found that today those who claim to have 'faith' more often than not also have a lot of 'judgment' masquerading as faith. We have become either a Pharisee – one who follows countless rules and has little love, or a Sadducee – one who wants to remake the rules, due to being so much better 'educated' than the rest. In other words: right wing religious versus left wing religious. Lacking are the Jesus religious – those who rely on a relationship with Jesus Christ, realize that humans are sinners, and just try to love the best they can – all through the power of Christ. Real followers therefore, tend to spend their time looking at overcoming their own sinfulness while remembering that everyone else is doing the same.

J.J.'s family had all left the Catholic faith in the 1980/90s and become 'born again'. Don't get me wrong, they are all lovely people who are trying to follow the Lord, but unfortunately, in their version of born again, there was no room for sinning, and less room for love. We witnessed this when Jessica went to stay with J.J.'s sister, Chrissie during her time at Meier Clinic. Chrissie's life consisted of work and church. She was horrified when Jessica wanted to do anything else – such as go to movies and/or meet other young people. Surely these were the actions of a great Sinner! She threw Jessica into the street. When her mother Mary, who was visiting, stood up for Jessica – Chrissie threw her into the street too. This, I suppose, was to show them why it was better to be a Christian; like her.

And then shortly after we moved, we went back for a weekend to see Papa and Nana, J.J.'s parents, with Sarah and Rachel. Unfortunately, J.J.'s nephew Danny had come to visit from Texas. Danny's parents, Steve and Janet, were also 'born again' Christians. This was a good thing, since when our children were all very young, I was the lone Catholic among the group who was teased for always being 'no fun'; i.e. not agreeing to actions like leaving the kids with total strangers while everyone went away for a party weekend, etc., etc. Steve and Janet were pretty much fun-loving pagans in those days – and I, as an 'over-reacting religious person' putting other's well being before our 'fun', was a 'party-pooper'. Hence, I thought that 'born again' was an awesome step forward for those two... Yet once again, it was a version of 'born again' that had no room for sinners (and not simply their sin), and hence after their son Danny arrived, they became very upset that our daughters were there – they felt that the girls could 'tempt' Danny with indecent clothing and/or behavior. Therefore, at their request, J.J.'s parents asked our daughters to leave, fearing that they would 'infect' Danny (who actually appeared pretty much already 'infected' to me.) We had to scramble to locate another place for the girls to stay. It was now 3 for 3 – Ashley, Rachel & Sarah.

And lastly, there was Colby. He had a job, and was meeting other young people at his employment. His co-workers asked him to go with them to a local amusement park, and Colby asked (and was given permission) to borrow Papa's truck to go. Once again, Danny was visiting. He wanted to go too. However, Steve and Janet decided that Colby could not be trusted to make good 'born again' decisions – and so they decided that their son could not go to the Amusement Park with Colby and his friends. That's pretty fair, since all parents have ultimate say over their child's upbringing. However, their decision was taken a step too far. Since their son couldn't go, he would be mad at them if Colby went. Hence, Colby was told he couldn't use the truck to drive there. Being a former 'partner in crime', Colby was fairly resourceful – he just got someone else to pick him up. The entire household was furious that he went, had a harmless good time, and came back – making his cousin furious that he was left behind. Obviously, the best decision, in their minds, was to blame Colby. That's why he was tossed out of the house.

4 for 4.

In just a couple months time frame – every single one of my children was thrown out of a James household – all by people protesting that, due to their religious beliefs, they could not tolerate sinfulness.

Yet in my own experience, I had seen that – from the very beginning – Jesus had become my friend. He hadn't waited for me to stop being 'selfish' or 'pro-choice' or even sinful. He became my friend and loved me as I was. And just like Zacchaeus before me, Jesus' love brought me into truth and repentance. That is always His chain of events. Yet my four children had a different chain of events in their long, slow and painful walk into the light of faith. In essence, they were tossed out of homes by people who showed zero tolerance for error, zero tolerance for mistakes, zero tolerance for the very humanity that Jesus died for. Yet I was used to this by now – on the left OR on the right – I found little residue of the love of Christ.

Which, ultimately I think, is why we are losing the 'American Culture War'. Very few are actually imitating Christ. Jesus neither condoned sin, nor condemned sinners. The Left tries to remake Him into a 'loving' guy who loves, and hence lives with, sinners AND their sin. Jesus never did that. The first thing He did when embracing people was to show them their sin – and expect them to do something about it. Hence the liberal left in this country are denying the real Jesus. Yet those on the right forget that Jesus did not expect those same people to be spotless before He loved them. He loved them where they were – and His love was the 'light at the end of the tunnel' that gave them hope to keep trying to overcome their sin. The conservative right, therefore, are just as guilty of denying the real Jesus. Since all these people claiming to speak for Him are not saying ANYTHING of the things He would actually say – people find confusion, judgment, sin and pain when they seek him among many of His more vocal 'representatives'. Hence, they turn away.

Can you blame them?

However, in Virginia, for what may be the first time in my entire life – I began to find representatives of the Real Jesus. For starters, I was shocked to discover paid, full time Youth Ministers! The Diocese there seemed to think that the youth were the future of the church, and therefore began acting like it. Imagine that! And then they actually went out and hired individuals that young people would want to hang out with – young college graduates who liked to have fun; and who liked to show the real fun that loving Jesus brings into your life. Believe it or not – but it was working!

These young college graduates were most frequently from a place called Franciscan University of Steubenville – the actual spot where God opened up the heavens, reached down and grabbed ahold of my Rachel.

But once again, I'm getting ahead of myself.
CHAPTER 21: "You shall not oppress an alien, for you know the heart of an alien, since you were aliens in the land of Egypt." (Exodus 23:9)

Back in Virginia in that first summer of 2007, it was rough going. I began bringing the girls from one youth group to another – trying to find someplace where they would fit in and begin to call home. But everything was different from 'home'. We had come from a place where the variety of races went something like this: light skinned Irish to dark skinned Italian. We're not exactly talking 'diversity' here. In the suburbs of DC, however, the sky was the limit. A trip to the grocery store introduced you to about a half a dozen languages, and the people – and clothing – were right out of a UN brochure. And that was at times a huge blessing. As I wrote in my journal one day: "Just as I am tempted to feel sorry for myself being so far from 'home' – I hear voices outside and see my neighbor – from India. I can get in a car and drive 5+ hours and be 'home'. How can I complain? What must it be like for her – a young mother – so far from home?"

I'm not so sure the girls had that same perspective – especially Rachel. On her bad days, she stood at the window and muttered not so nice racial commentary about everyone who walked by. We were shocked – but then realized she was just trying to vent – and get a rise out of us. What she was forgetting was that, by this point, we had pretty much seen it all. If a space ship landed in the front driveway (there was no 'yard'), and a green Martian got out and knocked on our door – I think the only 'rise' would be me getting out of my seat and asking what he was there for.

But there were days when – even while still unpacking – the freedom began to hit me. Another journal entry went like this: "As each day goes by, I wonder more and more how we were able to live for all those years at that level – huge house, huge yard, tons of social/work commitments. It is hard to fathom – now that we are here... I feel like my heart is escaping a cage that it has been trapped in for so long. The freedom to just live life as it comes without being tied to the 'stuff' and the trappings of 'the good life'. The 'good life' is nothing but a trap. I see now. A lie to deaden our souls to God."

But while I was escaping, the girls were dreading. How hard it is, as wounded people, to go into new environments where you have zero control. Fortunately, Jessica had finished The Meier Clinic, and was evidence of what healing could do. She was a breath of fresh air whenever she came. Yet even she had 'baggage' following her – for whenever she slept over, Rachel would awaken the next day feeling attacked demonically once again. Something was still going on.

But the new busy-ness of a new home and all the changes kept us pretty much on our toes. I was just trying to 'get it all done'. One day, while doing just that, I was in the doctor's office with Sarah getting her school physical. The phone rang; it was Rachel.

"Mom," she said, in her hurried, exasperated voice, "I can't get in the townhouse! I forgot my key, and the garage door opener is locked up in Dad's car in the driveway. I can see it."

"Okay," I responded, "why don't you go around the corner to the coffee shop and I'll let you know when we get home."

"I don't want to wait that long," she replied, "Should I just smash dad's car window and get the opener?"

Pause.... As I took the cell phone away from my ear and stared at it in my hand...

I couldn't believe I was hearing this. Did she expect me to say, "Of course; Yes! But only if driving the car through the garage door doesn't work first."

You just can't make this stuff up as a parent!

Needless to say, when I told her no – she could not smash the window in her dad's car – she got mad at me. So she just shimmied up the deck post to our 2nd floor deck and went in through the door. I guess that had been Plan B.

Who knew?

Shortly afterward, she got a job training as a waitress for a new restaurant opening in town. She tasked me with going to the store and buying her the necessary black pants that she needed. She showed me exactly what to buy, by drawing a picture of them for me. It looked something like this:

I showed the ladies working the cashier – and we all had a good laugh.

Like I said, you just can't make this stuff up!
CHAPTER 22: "before me continually is sickness and wounds." (Jeremiah 6:7)

And so you can see that life continued on. Even though the girls were moaning and complaining; they were no longer surrounded by a black, negative spirit, and so things began to get a little easier. As school drew nearer and nearer, we had more changes to face – Colby was going off to college. He had been recruited to play on a golf team at a Division 2 school in California and was enticed by the California lure. He was eager to go. I flew out with him – nervous about the culture that would be surrounding him. My suspicions were not exactly ungrounded. As we stood in the check out line at a local store, a woman fished in her totally-cool-California-worn-and-faded-jeans pants pocket for change. She looked to be older than me, and most likely one of the original hippies, for as she pulled her hand out of her pocket, with it came a joint. No big deal; she just bent down, picked it up and stuck it back in her pocket. Welcome to California. A nice place to visit – but do you really want to leave your SON there?! Enough said.

I flew back home, praying all the way.

A major thing on my mind, that summer, was getting Jessica up to Prince Edward Island to have Father Douglas pray over her too. The discovery of the Bahamas' incident had clued me in to the fact that there may be more to her behavior at times than we thought. It would be good to get a little expert help. And so, right before the girls began school, I flew up to PEI with all three girls, and we had a lovely few days to ourselves. I had Father Douglas pray over them all, and that left me feeling much, much better! When we returned, J.J. and I made arrangements to return for a couple days to ourselves once we got the girls settled and in school. His mom came and watched them, and we took off. That night, after arriving, we got a phone call from Rachel. Her boyfriend from Connecticut called and broke up with her. He was now dating her best friend. Rachel was devastated.

We returned home, and initially everything seemed tentatively okay. But about 2 weeks later, J.J. came to me with evidence that Rachel was vomiting in the downstairs bathroom. He had become suspicious and was making sure it was clean every day so he could see any evidence. And he did. We both decided that we knew enough to know that we didn't know enough when it came to handling this issue. We would have to seek professional help for her. That evening, we confronted her with our concerns. Her response? "If you didn't make me eat, then I wouldn't have to throw up!"

The anorexia was back.

As I noted earlier; woundedness is a difficult thing. If we do not turn to Christ to help us deal with it, then we will find another way to make it stop hurting. Many people choose alcohol or drugs, others choose work, some choose sex – either choice, it is all an effort to fix a problem with things that don't heal – they only temporarily numb. Rachel had learned to deaden her pain with starving herself. When you are starving, you don't have much brainpower to concentrate on much else – do you?

For she had gone from being one of the most popular girls in a very small school to a nobody in a gigantic school. She and Michael had been the 'power couple' in our neck of the woods in Connecticut – both were young, beautiful, talented, wild and 'cool' – basically the Hollywood definition of 'having made it' in our current culture. But in Northern Virginia there was a different definition to what was 'cool'. This was a highly educated area, full of immigrants who had left everything behind to make better lives for their children. Imagine that! And although there was a wide diversity of faith – the concept of faith was highly respected. Whether Muslim, Hindu, Christian or Jew – people knew that faith was the main bedrock of their lives and hence ALL faith was greatly esteemed. Imagine that! Therefore, the 'party' mentality among children AND adults was reserved for the losers. And really, truly try to imagine THAT! Nothing that Rachel had learned in Connecticut about being 'cool' worked anymore. Try as she might, she was no longer a part of a 'power couple' and in fact, the other half of her once power couple was now gone; dating what had been her best friend – the girl who first introduced them all to anorexia as a 'slimming device'.

Even with her new faith in Christ, even with knowing all that she now knew – it was just too much. The woundedness won out, and the coping mechanism was back.

When she told us that she wouldn't have to throw up if we didn't make her eat – J.J. responded with the statement that, if she didn't want to eat, she didn't have to – since we wouldn't make her anymore. I promptly thought it was one of the most lunatic things I ever heard.

The next day, as I spent the day on the phone with Renfrew, J.J. left on another trip – and I began the long vigil of watching my child starve before my eyes. Utterly helpless, I could do nothing but turn to the Lord. I wrote:

"This is my sacrifice Lord. This is my burnt offering – a discouraged, beaten heart – so tired, so sad. Another sick child. The craziness has not stopped. Now it is manifesting itself in absurdities. A child, who will not, cannot (?) eat. Who is wasting away in front of me. And I am helpless. Not supposed to get angry??!!! How can I not? This is so stupid. Straight from hell it must be, as it makes no sense and is pure evil. And destroys.

Oh Lord, I am so tired. 24 years into this pouring of myself out for my children – and I see NO END in sight. Yet what more can I do Lord? They are my children. Hearts of my heart. I will get up today and keep giving, and tomorrow and keep giving, and the next day. But I cannot do so Lord, unless you give me what I need to give them. Strength, love, compassion – grace. I need it all in full measure Lord – I am running on empty here ---"

I then claimed, and wrote out Psalm 26: "Those who sow in tears shall reap rejoicing. Although they go forth weeping, carrying the seed to be sown (care for my children – the bottomless pits of need), they shall come back rejoicing, carrying their sheaves."

Little did I know it then – but God hears prayer, and is true to His Word. Was I any different than the Israelites in exile? At that moment in time, I could not imagine any good end. I knew I could try, like the ancient ones carrying seed to be sown – but really – it is all just a hope and an aching wish – one too good to ever anticipate. But has anything ever really changed? We all have moments of that 'hope and aching wish' – drowning in too much pain to ever believe it could end.

If you are there right now – I want to give you a promise. It is this –

We serve an Incredible God. And He is true to His Word.

Learn it.

Trust it.

Believe on it.
CHAPTER 23: "All his days he also eats in darkness, he is frustrated, and has sickness and wrath." (Ecclesiastes 5:17)

The thing about moments of crisis is that those are the times when God really works. He sends his emissaries. They simply pop up everywhere. They popped up in the form of the doctor I called. We were brand new in town – no doctors who knew us – and yet, when Rachel and I met with this wonderful man... there was God's little emissary. He listened with great compassion and ordered everything 'stat' – which means 'as fast as possible' in non-medical jargon. He knew that she was not eating – time was of the essence. I just sat and fought back tears at the compassion and caring of this total stranger. God is so good as He works through others...

Unlike Avalon, where anorexia was – ho hum – just another day; it was fairly uncommon in this part of the country where faith still ruled lives. Nonetheless, the professionals we dealt with acted quickly and efficiently. Renfrew needed certain evidence before they could admit her and before insurance would be justified that she had a 'problem'. Our doctor set about making sure that evidence was collected quickly and professionally.

I contacted the guidance counselor at her school. He was an amazing man, and the compassion and concern he showed to Rachel and our family brought me to the verge of tears on more than one occasion. For so long, I had been told that I was 'overbearing', 'obsessive', a 'fanatic religious' when battling this culture for my children. Now here were real adults – those who also thought children were worth battling for; were worth protecting from evil. They were adults who also refused to call evil 'good'. I no longer felt so alone. It was good, because as Rachel gave in to this evil – she began to revert back. She was critical and angry, constantly arguing and criticizing every thing I did. My sitting quietly in the doctor's office bothered her, so did my talking. What ever I did, what ever I said – she was nasty and mean in response. All while I was trying desperately to save her. I was thankful, afterwards, because it gave me a brief glimpse into what the Lord did for us, on the Cross – as he desperately tried to save US.

And we continue to mock him with our sins; even to this day.

I can tell you – it hurts. It hurts terribly to be giving all that you possibly can for someone who, if you looked at it logically – is plain and simply not worthy of it. It leaves you frustrated, and it makes you angry; but the anger is not at them! When you look at it not 'logically', but with love; then the anger is directed at this ancient enemy who so controls our lives that he makes sin look and/or feel 'good' – this enemy that holds us so deceived, and hence so captive. The father of all lies, and the source of all destruction. You begin to see others the way Jesus sees us – tied up in bondage and being tortured. Not many tortured people act politely and nicely in the midst of their torture; nor do we do so in the midst of our sin.

And the starvation clock kept ticking.

In hindsight, we all agree that what helped save Rachel was the soymilk. Although Rachel had stopped eating, she was at least drinking. And what she was drinking was soymilk. Unbeknownst to her, it had plenty of calories. Even so, as each day went by, she grew weaker – and I grew angrier. I had no understanding whatsoever of the dynamics of anorexia. It simply looked like outright defiance, and a stupid defiance at that!

At last the moment came – the evidence was in, and Renfrew opened wide the door to Rachel's admission. J.J. and I boarded a plane with Rachel to take her to Florida. How did we get her to go, you ask? Simple. She was still underage. At 17, we told her, we could have her committed to a psychiatric institution since what she was doing was crazy. "And," we threatened, "don't think for one minute that we won't!"

She got on the plane.

I was never so happy in my life that J.J. was with me. We arrived and spent the night in the hotel. Rachel was angry and scared. In her calmer moments, she admitted that she needed help; in her not calm moments, she voiced fear that they would 'make me eat.' It was obvious she needed help.

The next day, we brought Rachel in. While she was checking in, we met with 2 other sets of parents who had brought their daughters in also. One daughter was in college, another was in medical school. Their parents appeared like us – dazed, and looking like somebody had just roughed us up. I was still angry, but it was a relief to see other adults who also had no clue whatsoever why this happened, and how to deal with it.

Renfrew, on the other hand, did.

Rachel was assigned a counselor, a nurse, a nutritionist and a psychiatrist. All set to work immediately. Rachel was horrified at their plans – they planned to make her begin eating again. Meanwhile, we had met with her psychiatrist. Rachel had confessed to him that she was drinking ¾ of a liter of alcohol a day, smoking 6-7 cigarettes and taking all kinds of prescription drugs. We were floored – we had no clue. Because of all this, he had to put her on medication to slowly detox her, as she could begin to suffer seizures. Since her heart was already stressed with the anorexia/bulimia, it was just too dangerous. I just couldn't believe this could be true, and wondered if she was exaggerating for the attention. He also brought up 'oppositional defiance disorder' – but he was still trying to figure her out.

Join the crowd.

Still reeling, we met her shortly again before we left. She was a wreck. The girl who shimmied up a back deck, who barely winced with broken bones, who had handled every adversity with calm, grabbed ahold of me and begged me not to leave. As I hugged her close and kissed her goodbye, she began to sob. Suddenly I was back in time, with a wounded hurting child who was begging me not to leave her. It took every fiber in my being to peel her off of me, and walk to the car. This was when I realized what a blessing it was that J.J. was with me. I was in such a state of shock and grief that, when we got into the car, I couldn't remember where we were going. I had no clue how to get to the hotel, could not remember the name, and couldn't even remember where we were. My brain had just shut down. It had never happened before, or since – thank God.

J.J. drove the car while I sat and cried. When we got to the hotel, he pointed out that it was well past dinner, and we hadn't eaten. He suggested we go down to the restaurant and get something to eat. I had zero appetite, but felt like a caged animal in the hotel room – so I agreed. Still crying, I sat at the restaurant table staring blankly out to the ocean. Nothing was registering. Suddenly, a young mother walked by with 2 kids in a double stroller – one toddler, one baby – looking stressed and overwhelmed. J.J. said, "Look at her. She has no clue. She thinks her life is hard now!!"

With that, I suddenly burst out laughing and regained my mind again. He had managed to pull me back.

The next day, we returned to see Rachel one more time before our flight. We had to, when they had unpacked her suitcase, they discovered that she had smuggled in a liter of rum. Clueless, once again, we had to go and retrieve it. We saw her in the hall; she had come from her counselor and was loaded down with a notebook, papers and other stuff. She put it down and began to cry. She sobbed that she hated it there and that they were 'making' her eat. At that, she pulled up her shirt and pointed to her stomach that she claimed was now 'sticking out' so much. Of course, she was still skin and bones – but that was the moment when I was convinced that we were doing the right thing. She was just so, so very ill and she didn't even know it. If these people knew how to help her – then she was safer there with them – then with me. Even so, it was the hardest thing in the world to leave her there. Words simply can not describe what it is like to walk away from your child as she is pleading with you to stay – knowing that you are getting on a plane and leaving her far, far behind.

How could it have ever come to this?

Setting my face like flint, I turned to go. It would be a long haul; and I had to trust that God would take us all through it. Once again, He did not disappoint.
CHAPTER 24: "But when Jesus heard it, he said, "This sickness is not to death, but for the glory of God, that God's Son may be glorified by it." (John 11:4)

The first couple weeks of Rachel's healing treatment were especially difficult. We were handling everything long distance, and her nightly calls consisted of mostly crying. It went against every parental instinct we had – keeping her there where she was miserable – simply because we knew that she needed help and this was the only place available for her to get that help. We knew enough to know that we did not know enough to try to fix this problem on our own. Additionally, J.J. had a major battle – from the very beginning – with the insurance companies whose policy is to try to save money any way they can by denying benefits. How in the world did a free nation allow a system like this to come into control? All we knew was that Rachel needed the help this place provided and we were determined to keep her there until she was healed. Most of the other patients were not as lucky; at the very first sign of improvement, the insurance companies would kick them out – all but guaranteeing relapse and a worsening of the problem.

But we had other children to care for also. Sarah suffered pretty much in silence. It was not until some time later that I discovered that the week after Rachel left for Renfrew, Sarah's health teacher showed a documentary all week entitled 'Thin'. It was filmed in the same exact location where her sister was then residing! In the documentary, drastically thin girls were followed through their treatment showing the pain and suffering they were experiencing in trying to cure this evil disease. That in itself was hard enough for her to bear – but in addition, the students in the class spent the period laughing and making jokes about the sickeningly thin patients they were viewing. Of course, they would have been horrified to know that a sister of one of those patients was sitting in the same class listening to them – but they didn't know. Sarah was maintaining the lie that Rachel was still enrolled in school! When Rachel's new friends would ask where she was, Sarah would state that she had just seen her in the hall – they should run after her and try to catch up! It was all just too much for her to deal with as a new student in such a large school with no one to turn to as a friend.

Fortunately she soon made the volleyball team, and slowly friendships began to come about. Jessica was also doing well – for the most part. She had gotten a job in a home for mentally disabled young adults. She was their caretaker and would care for them as they went about trying to live as normal a life as possible. She loved it, and the patients loved her. She had obtained an apartment, and actively sought young Catholic women to share it with her. In it, she created something of a young fellowship group. Each week she had the girls meet to discuss faith, and any issues they were having with each other. The closeness they all developed has remained to this day.

Shortly after I returned from Florida; Jessica, Sarah and I flew out to California for Colby's parent's weekend. We had a wonderful time, and I was able to see how he was doing. Nonetheless, we were all crying when it was time to leave – he was simply too, too far away.

I began making trips down to see Rachel after a few weeks. Renfrew had advised we give Rachel time to settle in, before visiting. It was good advice. When I finally felt she was stabilized enough for me to see her again, I was amazed at how much better she seemed. Truly, they were doing wonderful work here! Renfrew explained that drastic weight loss actually affects the brain chemistry – and hence, until Rachel put on some weight, she (and all other anorexics) would not and simply could not think rationally. After a couple weeks, she had put on enough weight that she was beginning once again to make some sense. She was no longer begging to come home, and was instead talking about the progress she was making toward recovery. I was able to, for the first time, have some cautious optimism concerning her healing.

Even so, I remained realistic. My journal from one of my visits recounts:

"Talking with Jessica last night. I realize that I have been in mortal combat, hand to hand, with Satan for oh these long years – just trying to get my children to adulthood – to following Jesus. I need to remember, AT ALL TIMES, that this is War. And War with an evil, ancient and intelligent being that does NOT play fair. Only the overwhelming grace and mercy of God has saved us thus far. Oh Jesus – SAVE US, SAVE US ALL!!!"

During my trips to Florida, I was only able to get there by flying into an airport on the other side of the state and driving 170 miles south, and then 120 miles through 'Alligator Alley'. I was always rushing to try to get there before visiting hours were over. Sometimes the visits went well; and sometimes I would drive away in tears as I witnessed my child struggling so hard with the healing that she so desperately needed. It was combat indeed. I would go back to my hotel room, read Scripture and PRAY. One day, my eyes were opened even further to what was going on, and I wrote:

"When I read of the commissioning of the 12, and the Acts of the Apostles – I always feel a rush of excitement. The possibilities of what I could be doing in Christ's name! The miracles, the conversions, the going forth and preaching the gospel!! And then I put down my Bible and go forth – and pick up my daily Do List. Is it supposed to be this mundane? Is it this hard for faith to break out of ordinary life? Isn't there more? And it is one thing after another. One huge issue per child after another. Already I can see that Sarah needs nurturing after all this attention to Rachel. She is struggling at school and friends also. Withdrawing into that shell. It is always something Lord. I try to follow your will – even if there be no great and wonderful miracles. I drink no poison and live, wrestle no snakes. But then again...

Do I not wrestle with the original snake as he seeks to devour my children? Do I not work to make his bites non-lethal, to overcome his sting? Do I not drink the poison of his world each and every day and yet, with the power of Christ in me – still live? Still overcome and live? Still speak the truth, in love --- and live? Oh praise be to you Lord Jesus! You still work miracles in our daily lives – we just don't see them for what they are..."

By the end of October, we were beginning to see some real progress. Rachel was being healed and beginning to blossom again. Sarah and Jessica were involved in their youth groups, attending one event after another, and beginning to 'catch the fire' of their faith. I remarked one day that I was "really beginning to see why we had to battle so to get out of New England. The amazing spiritual progress my children have made since coming here! It is such a blessing. I don't know where to begin!"

And then Jessica and I both flew down to see Rachel. Jessica sat in on a therapy session with Rachel and her counselor, and came out furious. Jessica confronted Rachel and told her that she had to begin to be honest. She could see that Rachel was withholding some of her true feelings, and past history, because she didn't want the counselor to think poorly of her. But, as usual, this is just another lie of the enemy. As long as we hold back the parts of our heart that need the most healing for fear of 'offending' others or 'looking bad' – then we don't open them to Christ for His healing. Jesus is truth, and He will only be found where truth is found. And the truth is.... We are all sinners. Whether physically or mentally – sin is sin – and if it is in us; then it must be rooted out, confessed and healed. That is why Confession is so absolutely essential. Indeed, it is no small coincidence that the Church schedules First Confession prior to First Communion. Sin puts up blockages to God's grace – and if we are trying to deny it, then we are partners in crime – something that not only my children are good at!!!

Rachel took her words to heart, and finally began being honest about things. Her recovery and growth went into hyper-drive then, and we began seeing amazing progress. But my most prized moment was the day that we all engaged in 'family therapy' – via speakerphone... I had flown down to Florida once again, and sat with Rachel and her counselor. Back in Virginia, J.J. and Sarah called in from home, Jessica called in while commuting to work and Colby? He had set his alarm to wake up and call in from California. It was fantastic. All did whatever was necessary to be there for Rachel. I was never so proud of my family as in that moment. As J.J. said later, "after seeing all of us like this, I now know that there is nothing we can not overcome together!"

Truly, the sacrifice of our move began to have incredible fruit – through, not surprisingly, the endurance and acceptance of even more pain as manifested in Rachel's illness. Whereas it had seemed that we were down for the count – that is exactly the moment that Jesus came through. After an evening spent visiting and talking with Rachel, I wrote:

"All these years of all this stuff I've read – always wanting to share with my children. I now finally can. You bring to memory story after story –and Rachel soaks it all in like a sponge... Oh Lord, you are so good to me. All these years and now is the time for answered prayers... It is marvelous to see. And it is all through suffering and pain – and hope in you. For almost 20 years or more I have sat each morning and prayed for my children's faith – through discouragement, dryness and hostility. And yet I have just kept praying. And now you are working suddenly – exploding in their lives. It is so overwhelming for me. I almost hate to trust it, but I will. Because I see that you ARE in charge! Even if their faith grows lukewarm – which it might – you are in control of that too. You are there working Lord – you are there. And the tiny glimpses you give me of your strength and power are enough to take my breath away. Too awesome to describe... Impossible to imagine without your help; and yet I will continue to pray, always, for all of my loved ones. For I now know that You are working on it. You are on the job. And that's all I need to know!"

The spiritual things that were busting out all over our family were just amazing. Like the night that God filled Rachel's heart.

Just like that.

She had been reflecting on the quote I told her about from John and Stasi Eldredge's book "Captivating"5 where there is a hole in our heart that only God can fill, but also a hole in God's heart that only we can fill! As she prayed about this, she suddenly realized that she had had such a pain in her heart from the breakup with Michael, that just wouldn't go away – no matter how much counseling and healing she got about it. She began thinking about what I had said and suddenly she felt as though someone gathered her up in their arms and was gently cradling her. Next thing, she felt something like water being poured down into her chest – filling up her whole body. As she felt this 'filling'; the pain over Michael slowly disappeared. Gone. The next morning, she told me all this and I asked how she felt about Michael and Chelsea, her best friend that he was now dating.. With a look of radiance, she said, "Fine, just fine. No pain, nothing. I am just so very, very happy."

Jesus was on the job!

Even so, not even I had any idea of what a fast worker He was! In my journal, I was still noting that it would probably take a long, long time. I realized that, even though God had promised Abraham that his descendants would be numerous as the stars – Abraham never did live to see them all. He had ONE son – that's it. And with that one son – he had to trust that someday – his offspring would number too great to count. I mused that "I need to settle in for the long haul. Pray, pray, pray. Perhaps I will live to see the end result – but just as likely I will not! That does not mean it will not happen. God is faithful to save. He does answer prayer – But His time is not ours..."

_____________________

5 Eldredge, John and Stasi. Captivating: Unveiling the Mystery of a Woman's Soul. Nashville, TN: Thomas Nelson, 2005.
CHAPTER 25: "Two things I have asked of you; don't deny me before I die: Remove far from me falsehood and lies." (Proverbs 30:7-8)

As the children began to recover spiritually, emotionally and physically – I felt that I had to begin to address the fact that I was not feeling so well myself. My stomach had been bothering me for several months whenever I ate anything, and had finally gotten to the point where it remained bloated and swollen almost all the time. Eating anything was torture. I was the 'anti-Rachel', I wanted to eat, but the pain was killing me.

Being a usual Mom, and so busy trying to keep the lid on everything: I just kept ignoring it and hoping it would go away. Until the day I spoke with Jessica. She pointed out that, although I had raised them to believe all the tenants of our faith and the good, positive things, I didn't seem to believe them for myself. She noted that, for instance, I would tell them all the time that once Jesus forgives them – they are forgiven, and that they can do anything through Christ. However whenever she would tell me that I could be a Saint one day, my response was that it was impossible as I am too much of a sinner. She pointed out that although I live my life one way – loving and caring for others; I think of myself in another – being a horrible person. It seemed to her that my mind was constantly racing with guilt and terrible thoughts about myself and everything I did – and that that was my 'thorn in my side'. She felt that Satan was constantly torturing me like this, since I had worked so hard to raise them as warriors for Christ..

I found these thoughts interesting; but then she really struck home when she mentioned how hard it is to really love yourself. She had slowly come to realize that it is because – we never love someone who treats us badly. And whenever we don't do something to care for ourselves, or we let another person bully us into things we know we shouldn't do – then we are treating ourselves badly – and so how could we then 'love' ourselves? Her solution? She thought that we would only begin to love and trust ourselves when we begin to treat ourselves with respect, and as though we matter. Obviously, we do matter to God; along with our bodies – since they are the only means we have to accomplish His Will in this world!

I made an appointment to see a doctor about my stomach...

It was only after a couple of months at Renfrew, that Rachel finally reached down to one of her deepest hurts and opened it up to her counselor. It was this: in her wild and carefree 'party' days, she had gotten herself into a situation where a young man was able to take advantage of her lack of control – and badly hurt her. She had suffered in silence because, she later said, she knew that it was everything I had warned her about happening if she engaged in what 'the culture' said was 'no big deal'. And now, along with countless nameless statistics, my own daughter was a victim.

I hate this culture. It kills, it maims, it rapes, it pillages – all while telling us that it is 'good'.

I HATE this culture.

The culture of today tells a young girl to dress in ways that were unimaginable just a few years ago. When I grew up, people made fun of you if your underwear showed – today it is considered 'sexy'. And that's not all that 'shows'. Girls are no longer warned about the fact that men are visual beings. Why do you think pornography has taken such hold of men? If men see things that 'show' on a girl that are really, truly not supposed to 'show'; then it doesn't stop there. They begin engaging in unbidden thoughts and desires that – in prior years, they had been raised to control. They are no longer raised that way today. Instead, they are raised to think that girls are just like 'one of the guys' and need no special treatment or respect.

And the same culture that tells young girls that it is 'sexy' to dress like only hookers (trying to get a job) used to dress – remains ever shocked and confused as to why 'date rape' and sexual assault continues to occur and increase. Showing indeed the truth in God's word where He warns: "Instead, they became vain in their reasoning, and their senseless minds were darkened. While claiming to be wise, they became fools..." Romans 1:21-22

In fact, let's test culture's latest theory by trying a 'Common Sense Check.' If a guy got dressed in a thousand dollar suit with a Rolex watch and hundred dollar bills hanging out of his pockets and then went for a long, leisurely stroll in the most crime ridden part of the city – what do you think you would tell him (when you visited him in the hospital)? How about – "What, are you STUPID??!!"

Well, when our culture tells young girls to walk, talk and act like prostitutes trying to get a job, and is then surprised when they get treated as horribly as prostitutes have been treated since the dawn of time, I have one question – "ARE YOU STUPID?"

Or just plain evil?

"Just plain Evil" gets my vote. And yet we have swallowed it: hook, line and sinker.

My daughter, encouraged by the 'oh so enlightened' adults of New England, swallowed it; and it almost destroyed her life. How many other "Rachel's" do you think are out there now? My guess would be millions.

Welcome to the true price of 'Enlightenment'.

Nevertheless, once Rachel was able to reveal one of the major sources of her pain – the grip this evil had on her began to loosen. Day by day and week by week we waited for the word we had hoped to hear since Day 1. Rachel was healed, as well as Renfrew could heal her, and was COMING HOME!!! I couldn't get to Florida to bundle her up and bring her back fast enough!

Once again, as we joyfully celebrated, we thought it was all behind us. But there was still something missing.
CHAPTER 26: "By your perseverance, you will secure your lives." (Luke 21:19)

"It is no small coincidence," I wrote, "that the day I bring my Rachel home is the Feast Day of St. Andrew – the 1st evangelist!" St. Andrew was the apostle who first brought Peter to Jesus. He brought the Greeks, and the boy who had the loaves and fishes. St. Andrew was simply a man who brought others to Jesus – and let Jesus do his work in their lives. I believed in my heart that Jesus was going to do powerful things through my child Rachel; and that He would use her to bring Him to the world and all that she met. So, as I noted, "what better day to serve as the day she is finally delivered from confinement and 'sent forth'..."

It was a slow re-entry. Rachel was very sensitive to the fact that she had gained weight at Renfrew. Jessica and Sarah were trying to introduce her to the youth group at St. Andrew's; and enticing her to act in the upcoming holiday 'talent show' where they were performing "White girls CAN Rap!" She decided to do it; but wanted to get blonde highlights in her hair to take the focus off of her weight gain. She went to the hairdresser, but after a couple hours, I got a phone call from Sarah alerting me to trouble. I rushed over and discovered Rachel almost in tears. The hairdresser had given her red highlights – not blonde; and Rachel was beside herself. The hairdresser was a nice woman, but could not understand why it was such a big deal. The hair did look nice; but it was not the 'look' that I knew Rachel wanted. I tried to calm down the situation. The hairdresser did not want to do anything else – she had already spent a couple hours, and kept insisting it was not good to change it. On the other hand, Rachel wanted her to dump a bottle of Clorox over her head and bleach it all. I finally managed to get them both to compromise. The hairdresser would add very blonde highlights to the strawberry blonde highlights. After another couple hours – Rachel was very happy and thankful. However, it was clear in the hairdresser's comments that she thought I was just another one of those mothers who gave their child everything – but since I could not explain exactly why it was so important to Rachel – I just let the hairdresser think that. Rachel's peace of mind, after all she had gone through, surely trumped my 'reputation' in the community.

This was actually a big step for me; but I had taken it years earlier for Jessica when she was only about 10. She had wanted to be in a team picture of the kids' soccer team because she had been 'helping' coach it while J.J. was on deployment. Each practice and game she had run around and done whatever she could to help the adult coaches. It was time for the team picture, and they were not exactly encouraging her to be in it – since she was neither a player, nor a real coach. I remember this moment as though it was just yesterday. I knew that if I encouraged her to get in the picture, the coaches would think I was just a mom who was 'giving in to' her child. But I also knew it would crush Jessica if she were excluded, since everyone had always told her she was the 'team helper'. So I just told her to get in the picture. The adult coaches rolled their eyes and looked at each other. I didn't care. The look of happiness on Jessica's face was worth any and all damage to my 'reputation' as a parent.

The reason this was such a defining moment for me was that it was an instant when I went against every single thing I had been taught as a child. Both of my parents were embarrassed about the social status they had growing up. Therefore, they worked long and hard to rise up out of it once they were married. They did – but remember what I said about 'woundedness'? Unless you give it to Christ and receive His healing – it doesn't just go away. Instead it comes out in other forms. The form it came out in for my parents, when I was growing up, was this: appearances were everything and one's 'reputation in the community' (i.e. what other people thought of you) trumped even the feelings of your own child. Hence my parents always backed anyone, and everyone, in the community before they would ever back us. They still do. Their reputation is everything to them. But it is a hard thing to grow up as a child and feel that there is not a single person in the world, bigger than you, who 'has your back'. I've never forgotten the loneliness and feeling of betrayal that that bred among us all.

It is interesting that the very thing my parents sacrificed their children's feelings to protect; their standing and reputation in the community, is the one thing they have lost in their elderly years – due to the actions of their youngest child who acted out her woundedness, loneliness and anger in very public and humiliating ways. I think it shows that the Lord does not leave us with our idols forever. He will ultimately point out their futility – in the hopes that you learn to turn to Him instead.

The jury is still out as to whether my birth family ever will. Once again, if you don't learn to deal with your own woundedness; and take it to the Lord, then it becomes harder and harder to find your way back to Him. Healing is Key – as I was soon to discover even more fully in our lives.
CHAPTER 27: "A friend loves at all times; and a brother is born for adversity." (Proverbs 17:17)

The 'White Girls CAN Rap' skit turned out to be a big hit for the youth group. It was wonderful to see the girls all having so much fun together. It was also a moment that made me realize what a blessing it was that we moved to such a caring faith community. Rachel's guidance counselor was working on her 're-entry' into the school community, and found out that she was going to be putting on this act with the youth group. Now mind you, the skit was on the last day of the school semester – just a couple days before Christmas. It was also being held almost an hour away at the church that Jessica was involved with. It was an hour in the opposite direction from her guidance counselor's home. And yet – while sitting in the cafeteria waiting for the show to begin, I was suddenly conscious of a man standing at the back, looking a little out of place. I turned my focus on him, and realized it was Rachel's guidance counselor! I was in shock. As I escorted him to our table, he explained that Rachel had told him about it, and asked if he wanted to come. He had seen how nervous she was about being out in the 'community' for the first time since returning from Renfrew, "and," he said, "I thought it was important to come and support her."

Just a few days before Christmas...

At the beginning of his own winter vacation.

Once again, I saw that in communities where faith is strong, people everywhere are able to become new conduits of the love of Christ. I had fresh tears in my eyes when I considered the grace and mercy that was flowing through this young man. Having been so long without any sign of it in the communities up north – it always jumped right out at me here, and took me by total surprise.

At the end of 2007, I noted in my journal how far as a family we had come. At the beginning of the year – before all the trauma and pain – we had been 'living the dream' as the perfect American family. In that 'dream family', we never really spoke to each other. Oh, we had plenty of conversations; it's just that none of them involved our hearts. A year later, after pain, sacrifice, more pain, and more sacrifice – we as a family had much less material things – but a far deeper and more enriching family life. We spoke to each other honestly, and with our hearts. I would not have traded anything for it. And as I closed my journal that year, I gave thanks, praise and glory – to God – the one who had orchestrated it all.

And then began the New Year, and new desert paths to tread. It started on New Year's Eve. There was a party that some students at school were hosting, and we had promised the girls that we would drive them to it. Unfortunately, when we began to pull up front, Sarah suddenly doubled over in pain. It was bizarre, but she begged us to drive past the place quickly. Our first view of the party had not looked all that good anyway – kids spilling out the front door, loud music playing, no sign of adults around. Sarah told us that she thought she was under attack – that she had a strong sense of foreboding about the place. Rachel of course was desperate to go – it was a PARTY – and she was one of the brightest and best 'party partakers' around.

J.J. and I also had grave reservations; and we sat there a little further down the road – debating it while both girls begged us to rule in their favor. Finally we reached the conclusion that we should go with our gut feelings – and Sarah's gut pains. We decided to just go home. As we began to drive away, we were shocked when Rachel threw open the side door of the minivan, leaped out and began running back to the party. She kept shouting over and over that it was "NEW YEARS EVE!" And that there was "NO WAY," that she was going to miss a "NEW YEARS EVE PARTY!!!" Once we got over the original shock, we drove up behind her and told her to get back into the car. How J.J. got through to her, I still don't know to this day – but she cursed and sobbed all the way home at how horrible her life had become.

And thus ended our year.
CHAPTER 28: "My son, give me your heart; and let your eyes keep in my ways." (Proverbs 23:26)

But it was a year that had woken us up to the REAL battle that was raging around us. Nonetheless, the next day I was still reeling with how quickly Rachel had reverted back to her old self. After all we had gone through, the potential for disaster was still there. The enemy kept pounding me with discouragement after discouragement. All I wanted to do at this point was to just get in a car and drive away – and keep driving. It didn't help that the doctor had discovered that all this time I had had an ulcer; and now I was on some meds to cure it. The medicine left me with blinding headaches and total fatigue.

Thank God that J.J. was home that New Year's Day. We were able to talk with Rachel after she calmed down, and set some ground rules. Nonetheless, I continued to be down and discouraged – one awful thought after another until I finally came to my own senses and realized what was going on. The enemy was using this as a means to defeat me. I immediately turned my attention to Jesus and demanded that any and all evil spirits leave and stop bothering me – and the feelings of defeat and depression left. Just like that.

I couldn't get over how easily I forget, and fall prey to the same old battle tactic over and over again... The next evening J.J. was gone on another trip and I went with Rachel and Sarah to the counselor Rachel was seeing locally. They were having a group family counseling session. Two or more of the parents there began talking down their teenagers – right in front of them. They were almost boasting as to whose teen was the bigger loser, when suddenly my girls took them on. I was so proud of my daughters as they expressed all the things I wanted to – calling these parents out for trash talking their kids, and pointing out that that might be the reason their children were having the problems they were! The parents were fairly chagrined that teenagers were pointing out the obvious to them – and calling them on it. They acknowledged what they were doing, and the session improved as everyone began to be more honest. It was a moment when I realized how much we had all learned from what we had been through. It was worth it. No wonder the enemy took every opportunity he could to try to beat us down and make us give up – my children were already beginning to push back the darkness wherever they went.

But there is something frustrating about this world. It seems that for every step forward, there is another one back. A week or so later, I came across Luke 16:16 in my bible. "The law and the prophets lasted until John, but from then on the kingdom of God is proclaimed, and everyone who enters does so with violence." Clear as a bell it hit me – this life is NOT a cakewalk if you're living it to enter heaven. Here I had been thinking it was all about me, and how poorly I had been doing in everything. But for the first time I saw it clearly: the failures, frustrations, feelings, fights... it is a battle to get to heaven – and one must fight to win – even if violence against Satan ensues. And what is this violence? Prayer, the Word of God (sword of the Spirit!), perseverance, boldness in making Jesus known and fighting (praying) for those we love. In fact, if you're not fighting – you're probably moving backwards.

It made me think of the German People leading up to World War II. The vast majority of them were getting up, going to work each day, coming home, eating dinner and going to bed. They had no problems with the Nazi Political Party, nor could they understand why anyone else did. However, there were those whose eyes were opened and clearly saw the slow progression of evil against the weak, the poor, the unprotected, and the unwanted. They spoke up. To them, they had a sense that the Nazi Political Party was not just another political group. And because they spoke up, that political group began to show its true colors and crush them – one by one. Nonetheless, those who chose to remain blind (and silent) did so happily; but as war-ravaged-Germany eventually proved – not forever. We can choose the easy and quiet way – but we lose in the end. The enemy is more than happy to keep us stupid and busily chasing idols until it is too late – and he has possession of us. The rest of us, who choose to fight, may struggle through in this world; but our ending is glorious. It helps to remember that when you are in the trenches fighting back one assault after another!

Meanwhile, we continued to struggle; and so did Rachel. I noted a couple weeks later the issues we were still having with her – catching her outside late at night smoking cigarettes and talking with another 'boyfriend' on the phone. All I could do was continue to pray for insight into her heart and mind – so that I could possibly understand and try to reach her. The habits, and attitudes, that she had formed while growing up in such a dark place continued to have a hold on her. I simply had no idea how to break them. And so I kept praying.

Soon I had my own adventure; one that may have been a little bit of an answer – without an answer. I was scheduled to take a trip to Israel with my parents. My mother had asked me before we moved, and since it was the year I turned 50 – J.J. encouraged me to go as a birthday treat. He had gone to Israel during one of his many Navy deployments; and he knew that it would be wonderful for me.

However, since I hadn't wanted to travel with only my parents and their church group, I had asked my good friend, and prayer warrior, Joan to join us. She said yes, and signed up for the trip too. The day we were due to leave, she and I were at daily Mass when one of her friends walked in, looking for her. It turned out that her brother had just had a massive heart attack, and the whole family was in the emergency room waiting on word of his condition. Joan and I rushed to the hospital, and found her shell-shocked family waiting. This was a family that was used to this posture by now; accustomed as it was to tragedy, and grief. Joan was 1 of 7 children. One sibling had died during an accident while a toddler; another had died of cancer just a couple months after giving birth to a child; and now it was her brother's turn – he would, within days, die of heart failure. Yet throughout Joan's mother's lifetime of tragedy, she has remained, like Job, faithful to her Lord. It is a witness that shines everywhere throughout the community. I can only imagine the glory awaiting her, and them all. Nonetheless, Joan obviously did not leave with me for the Israel trip. I left her sitting in the emergency room with her family, and headed to the airport with mine.

From the beginning, the trip was difficult. Although I was traveling with a Catholic Church group – this was a New England Catholic Church group – hence they were all fairly clueless about the Christian faith.

I am always amazed at how Catholics could live an entire lifetime believing in God; and yet never read His Word that He specifically left to us. It's as though you were an orphan your entire life and suddenly someone handed you the only letters your parent ever wrote – and they were all written to you. "Naw," you say, "I don't need to bother reading them," as you put them aside.

I mean, really, how do we DO that??!!!

Some of the adults in the group had no idea who King David was, no idea who the Apostles were, no idea about anything written in the Bible. On the one hand, it was great for them to finally get that revelation during this trip. On the other hand, I felt like a doctoral student in a kindergarten class. I was looking for new revelations myself – and was getting The-Catholic-Faith-101.

The downside was that my own human weaknesses, emotions and sin kept getting in the way of my journey. I was either battling the sin of Pride in knowing much more than 'those other fools', or the sin of Frustration & Ridicule at being held back by 'so many idiots' (yes, those where the actual thoughts that would come to me – while traipsing the Holy Land seeking a close encounter of the God Kind...). My own human sinfulness kept being a road block to the experience I had waited so long to have.

Had Joan been there, we would have never even noticed the others, and instead spent endless hours talking about our faith, glorifying in the ability to BE RIGHT THERE, discussing how it must have been during the days Jesus and His followers walked our same path. Instead, I spent my time asking if we could please leave the gift shop and go see part of Israel. I was told that these kind of trips were "all about the gift shops;" and to stop wrecking it for everyone else...

Ugggggh. More sinful thoughts... often involving smacking someone...

And when we did see 'parts of Israel'; they were covered in fog. We stood on Mount Nebo – and were told all about the glorious things that Moses had witnessed from there – since all we saw was fog, thick as pea soup, around us. And when we stood on the shore of the Lake of Galilee, we envisioned Jesus walking across the water to the other side – but could not see the other side – as the fog acted like a curtain call across it. Each time I was disappointed, but still happy to be in the exact location where God had worked such miracles.

I never expected that He would show up again, simply to work one just for me – but He did.

It happened as we were leaving the Sea of Galilee. Everyone crowded into the bathroom before boarding the bus. I was among the last, and therefore was walking to the bus after most had boarded. I was looking out at the Lake one last time, when suddenly, the dark clouds overhead – way out on the lake – parted. Like a knife piercing through, a sudden shaft of light formed a line on the water in the center. As I was marveling at the loveliness of it, another section of cloud parted, and a second knifelike shaft pierced through. The two shafts of light intersected on the water, in the middle of the lake, to form a perfect cross. I just stood there – awestruck. A huge lighted cross was shining on the waters right in front of me. I began to yell at the bus. As people spilled back out, they all rushed to the sidewalk and began to gasp in wonder. I was smart enough to pull out my camera and take pictures. I still have the image of the miracle that God performed just for me.

And as I looked out at it, I suddenly had the sense that God was telling me not to give up. No matter how dark and foreboding things looked – "Remember" – He seemed to be saying – "that I am there. I AM, Who AM. And I AM there." It suddenly put my trip to Israel in a whole new light. It was as though God was showing me that I was walking through a dark time in my life – not just a dark and rainy time in Israel – but a dark time everywhere. Rachel was still not cured, Colby was still rejecting our family, Sarah was still struggling with pain, Jessica was still battling her own demons, and J.J. and I were still battling each other. And my family? They were still breaking my heart. Darkness... Everywhere.

But I had forgotten. I had forgotten that God is higher than the darkness. The darkness is, like the clouds, just a part of this earth. God, like the sun, shines far, far above. The darkness does not overcome Him. He overcomes the darkness. And if we are patient – He eventually shows up. It's just that He shows up on His own timing – not ours. And His timing, like the sunshine after a summer's rain that waters the earth – is always the best for our long-term growth. We are, after all, growing each and every day. We need water, and yes, darkness – at times – to help that growth along. What our enemy means for evil – God uses for good. Our good. It was a lesson I needed to learn – and remember.

I returned from Israel, ready to renew the fight. It was good; cause I still had several more months of fight left. And that was just the fight for the kids! For as they slowly got better, I slowly got worse. The rejection by my family had begun to take a toll. There was a defining moment for me in Israel. Our little (clueless) group was finally at the spot where Christ was laid in the tomb. Needless to say, hundreds of other pilgrims were there too. There was a long line. Our guide had said to try to stay together the best we could. I was with my parents, and in that moment I witnessed their 'dog eat dog' New York City upbringing, and their own woundedness, come out in raw measure. They began pushing and shoving people who tried to get ahead. My little mother, standing no more than 5 feet tall, said insulting things to those around her as she tried to assert her right to be in front of them in line. I was mortified. I listened as people all around began arguing and fighting – right outside the tomb of Christ. The evil had been unleashed, once again in the same place where it had murdered our Savior so long ago, and it spread like wildfire. Soon everyone had a negative, nasty response – fighting and snarling to keep his or her place in line. I kept trying so hard to concentrate on where I was, and to keep the holiness of it intact – but all I could do was feel the relentless onslaught of evil. I tried to distance myself from my parents; while staying somewhat close. I was afraid that their nastiness would cause someone to haul off and slug them – and I knew I would need to try to protect them in case it happened. They simply seemed to have lost all sense of what they were doing. I was reminded of Jesus' words, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they are doing." Luke 23:34.

The only thing that saved them, I think, was the fact that they were elderly – and we were, after all, standing outside the tomb of Christ. Finally, we were at the entrance, and began to walk into the tomb. My father, who was still acting like a crazy person and insisting on keeping their place in line, turned to me in anger, grabbed my arm and snarled "And who are YOU?! Do YOU belong with us??!!"

I stopped and looked him in the eyes and said softly, "Dad, I am your daughter."

With that, his eyes were opened and he came back to his senses. He seemed embarrassed, and ducked down into the tomb – ahead of me. With a broken heart, I followed, touched the resting place of Christ – and wondered how it was that His sacrifice was still not breaking through to so many in this world...
CHAPTER 29: "Don't be wise in your own eyes. Fear Yahweh, and depart from evil." (Proverbs 3:7)

It is a thought that I still wonder at today. But I have seen progress. And I have seen that progress always follows healing. It was beginning to be obvious to me that I needed healing myself. It first became apparent when, a couple months after returning from Israel, I turned 50 years old and my parents did not bother to call and wish me a happy birthday. They never have; and so I'm not sure why I thought they would this time – but something about the significance of that birthday made me think they would. It didn't help matters that my dad did call a day or so later. He had asked me to introduce him at an awards banquet that was honoring him later that year, and so he wanted to know if I had begun composing my speech yet. We discussed what I would say – and then he hung up. Never once did my birthday come up.

I was completely and totally unprepared for the emotional reaction this would engender in me. I was grief stricken – and it was just a birthday! I could not in the world figure out what was wrong with me! But it was a clue that there was something going on deep inside. Nonetheless, a day or so later I got into an argument with Rachel when she, once again, broke curfew. J.J. was able to intervene and cool things off; but I later realized that I was judging my parents for their parenting when I wasn't exactly doing such a hot job myself. It is always easier to blame others for their mistakes, then to take that 'log out of our own eyes'...

I was given good advice, and a purpose, from a wise and caring Priest during confession some time later. When I confessed the anger I was carrying against my parents for this and other incidents in my past, he advised that I offer the pain of these things up for those children who are still in abusive homes – with no loving husband and children – and no immediate end in sight. Now that was something that I could do – that was something I could direct this painful energy toward; instead of just holding it, nursing it and becoming a victim. As soon as I followed his advice, I discovered that the emotional pain was gone.

Praise God. I was still learning...

Shortly after this incident, I made the mistake of letting the girls talk me into returning to Connecticut with them. It was Easter break, and they wanted to see their 'friends'. J.J. and I debated it back and forth, and eventually the girls won out. I made arrangements to see Joan, and they made arrangements to see their friends. Foolishly, I thought it would be a lovely trip.

Have you noticed my propensity to walk around with 'rose-colored glasses'? Heck, I might as well be in a rose-colored body cast.

We drove north, and once again finding myself in enemy territory – my defensiveness came out. I found myself ever ready to prove God is real, to convince these 'clueless New England people' of His Significance in the world. After yet another encounter with someone, and trying to 'prove' God's significance; I felt Him speaking to me. He seemed to be saying that He does not 'need' my help – He is actually quite fine on His own.

And it hit me.

What in the WORLD am I thinking?! Does God really need people to 'choose' Him? Is He diminished AT ALL when they reject Him? Who exactly will lose out by rejecting God – God, or man? Well, there is one thing I know, and that it will NOT be God in Hell – because hell is the absence of God. But there is no end of mankind there...

I mean, do we ever stop and consider WHO GOD IS? As our society descends more and more into sin – as people ridicule God more and more – is He worried? Perhaps saddened – but WORRIED? I think not; and I realize that I need to get this straight in my brain. I need to realize JUST WHO GOD IS – and then perhaps I can move forward with more confidence. After all, I have God – so basically – I have enough.

Meanwhile, while I was off having new revelations of God – Rachel was off – planning new escapades of defiance. I had foolishly forgotten how weak she still was, and how great the lure of evil still was in that spiritually dark place. For, back with her Connecticut friends, they were once again honing up on their skills of deception. She and her two girlfriends asked if they could take a day and go to the mall in Providence. Although it was quite a drive – it was also a beautiful mall and so – living in my rose-colored world, I innocently said yes.

The problem with a rose-colored world is that the real world is colored with reality – not roses. Hours later, I realized that Rachel and her friends were not back yet. I called them to discover that they were just now beginning to head back to the hotel where I was staying. Meanwhile, they were supposed to pick up Sarah from her girlfriend's house on their way back. We were due to get on the road at about 5 in the morning, so as to miss the traffic driving back home. I packed up my suitcase and laid down for a few minutes. At 11:30 pm my cell phone rang and I heard the frantic voice of Sarah's friend's mother. Rachel had still not shown up to get Sarah from their house!! I couldn't believe it! I called Rachel and was told that they were still on the road back – but the mall was nowhere near that far away! (I later learned that they had gone to visit a boy up in Vermont.) I was furious. There was no way I could sleep now.

Rachel showed back up at about 12:30 am with Sarah. I was now completely humiliated at what I had put Sarah's friend's family through – up till God only knows what hour on Easter weekend, waiting for my daughter who had deceived us both. The minute Rachel and Sarah walked in the hotel room, I ordered them to use the bathroom and then get into the car. At 1:00 am, I began the long drive back to Virginia. My energy came from sheer rage. Once again, deception and betrayal had taken me completely by surprise when I had offered my trust. I was livid – and felt like a fool. There was obviously no end in sight for us, when it came to Rachel's healing. No end at all.

Yet Rachel was not the only one struggling with lying. While up in Connecticut, I had been driving when suddenly my cell phone rang. As soon as I answered, a man began congratulating me on winning a new guitar! I was confused, and asked where he was calling from. He said California – and I told him that there must be a mistake – I lived in Virginia. He paused. Now he was confused. He asked if I had been in his music store and put my name in a box for a chance to win a guitar. I said no; unless I somehow teleported myself during my sleep; I had not been there. "Oh," he said. Thanking me, he hung up.

It made no sense, and so I called and left a message with Colby asking him if he knew anything about it. That was my first mistake. Colby called back almost instantly – hyperventilating. HE had put my name into that box! I can't remember why now, but for some reason he was disqualified from entering the contest and so he had lied and put my name down. Now, he said, I needed to call that place back IMMEDIATELY and tell them that, YES!, I had in fact been in their store and entered my name in the contest.

If not, I had just ruined his life.

Who knew?

I refused to do it. I told him he should not have lied and entered my name to begin with; and that I would certainly not call back and expand the lie myself. He was beside him with fury. How could I DO that to him, he screeched!!! He had NEVER won ANYTHING, and NOW – when he had – I had STOLEN it away from him!!! I wasn't quite sure I followed the logic in that chain of events – but he remained unconvinced. I was the most horrible mother in the world, he informed me, and this aversion to lying was downright evil. It was preventing good things from happening for him!

Once again, who knew?!

So I had that wonderful exchange to also think on as I drove through the night to bring my deceptive, ungrateful children back home to Virginia. It is just so frustrating to live in a world that calls evil good – when you continue to insist that it is, well... evil. It is equally heartbreaking to know that those you love – and have raised – are also among the ones who insist on calling evil; good.
CHAPTER 30: "Depart from evil, and do good. Live securely forever." (Psalm 37:27)

Back at home in Virginia, it was a subdued Easter. I was exhausted after having driven through the night – not to mention the toll that my anger took on me. Everywhere I turned, it seemed that I was under attack. When I tried to do good – I was either taken advantage of, or attacked for my inability to 'come into' the modern world. You know – the world that calls evil: good.

I ended up with one infection after another – causing trips to the doctor simply to get some relief. The result of all this negativity actually caused my body to break down; but at least it gave me some insight into Scripture. In my journal from that time, I noted how badly the negativity had affected me, and reflected that:

"Is it any wonder that Jesus, St. Paul, etc. said to avoid the negative, and think on only good things? For when you think negatively, you actually begin stepping into Satan's unseen kingdom in this world – and it gets easier and easier to go further into it; but the mental anguish increases and you can't figure out why. It is because you have ingested toxins into your body and they are slowly killing you.

So that is the detour (that Satan creates) – unmarked and slyly made confusing. It appears as a familiar, well-worn road and so you follow it. It is well worn from years of trodding on it – in a circular pattern, never reaching anywhere better; never leading to anything else.

But once Jesus rescues you, He takes you from that road and sets you on the road to heaven. It seems unfamiliar and is not well worn – since every step on it is a new step; always leading higher, opening up more and more to more glorious vistas. But because each step is new – it is sometimes rough going. You sometimes must struggle to get through the underbrush and continue to make your way. And that is when it is easy to fall back onto the well-marked road – the one left behind. The gossip, negativity, judgment and sin all come rushing back so quickly! So glad to have you back! But this time it is different – because you've seen some of those glorious vistas on the other road. You now know THAT THEY ARE THERE. And so deep inside you feel something is not right. And that part of you – however meek and mild – fights against the sin, and the sin attacks HARD – and you end up in mental anguish, fetal position, lying in the road. And all you can say is...

"Help."

And Jesus comes, yet once again, lifts you up and carries you back to His Road. He strengthens you for the task and gently says; "I love you, try again."

I resolved, with Him and through Him, to try again.

And so, when Colby told us that he was not coming home that summer and would instead remain in California working for his coach in a golf clinic – I did not get upset. I realized that God was more in control than I was and although I was upset that Colby was going to remain in such a godless area – I reminded myself that God was actually bigger. I thought that He was more than capable of handling the situation without my advice. The best thing I could offer were my prayers – and so I did. I also made amends, somewhat, for the guitar incident. Since I could well afford it, I called the store back and simply bought it for Colby. I wanted him to see that God uses those who DO follow His express Law to bless even those who don't. Much as God has blessed me – when I surely do not deserve it.

Meanwhile, Sarah was having issues of her own. She had begun dating a boy in her high school who seemed like a nice young man. However, they went to a party with his friends, and he began treating her in what would have been considered incredibly disrespectful in prior times; but in these days is just part of showing you 'care'. He insinuated to his friends that there was something sexual going on between them. When one of them teased and said, "Don't you two have sex!" her boyfriend responded with a sly, "We're making no promises."

Baal was obviously making inroads everywhere in this culture. Even in locations that were not as dark as Connecticut – he was still making his ways seem enticing. I mean, let's face it, in prior generations any boy who publically insinuated that the girl he was with was 'loose'; would have been ostracized forever. Today, it's what he says to appear 'cool'.

However, the only 'appearance' that left Sarah was one of humiliation and horror. She was mortified to think that that impression of her would go around in the teen community. In addition, she stood about in horror as the boys picked on a weaker one among them; physically abusing him and laughing about it. Sarah's boyfriend did nothing to stop them. The day after this incident, she sat at the breakfast table, and cried at how evil it all was. While talking with her sisters, it was decided that she had no choice but to break up with him – as heart broken as that left her. She did. He was furious; and of course, began to make her life miserable at school.

But something else came out at that breakfast. I was remarking on how different her two semesters had been. In the Fall, she reported being a 'nobody', made fun of, having difficulty at school. Yet half way through her spring semester – she was suddenly well liked, with lots of friends. What had happened? With a smile, she said, "I gave up wearing makeup for Lent."

Huh?

Apparently, shortly before Lent, she and Rachel had been discussing what to do. Sarah had never 'given anything up' before – and had no idea what to go without for the 6 weeks. Rachel asked what would be the hardest thing for her to go without – and Sarah said, "makeup." So Rachel said to give that up! With a great deal of hesitation, Sarah did. And everything changed.

I couldn't believe it; but it was soooo like God! All this time, Sarah had been wearing makeup to try to fit in and be 'popular'. Once she gave up on her own efforts, God was able to say, "Ok, now I can show you 'popular', My Way." And He gave her favor with everyone she met. Once again, the lesson was clear – it is only when we give up our own puny efforts that we make room for God to work. And boy, God's efforts sure do get results!!!

I was finally beginning to pay attention enough, and to learn from my daughters! One occasion, for instance, was the day I had to pick Sarah up from practice. It was pouring out, but as I pulled in front of her school, suddenly a hole formed in the clouds and the sun shone through. It looked really, really odd. I just stared at it, trying to figure it out, when Sarah came up to the car and said, "Praise God!"

I asked her what she was 'praising God' for, and she replied that she had asked Him to let the sun shine for her when she went outside! Wow, I thought. I couldn't believe it, but knew that I had to walk our dog Lady when I got home and so I said, "Well Lord, can you let the rain stop so I can walk Lady?"

Sure enough, guess what? It rained all the way home until I pulled onto our street – and then it just stopped. As I returned to our home after my walk with Lady... it began to rain again.

It seemed as though Jesus was wooing me! He was showing me just how much he listens, and loves, me. Thankfully, I have 3 daughters that help Him in this endeavor!

However, that was only when they weren't struggling with their own issues. Just a few nights later, J.J. came back home late from a trip – and discovered Rachel just getting in at 2:30 am. Once again, trust and other kid issues raised their ugly heads.

In our own little world, J.J. and I were pretty used to this. We kind of figured that this was just plain old parenting – until we got around other parents. For instance, Jessica's school girl chum, Colleen, from our days in the Navy came to visit with her mother, Nancy, a month or so later. At this point we had already resolved to let Colby spend the summer working at his coach's golf clinic – and had arranged to ship our car out to him so that he had a means to get to and from work. That was a story in and of itself: but suffice it to say that a guy showed up one day in our tiny little neighborhood driving a HUGE tractor trailer with tons of cars stowed on it. He spoke almost no English. It seemed that He was from the Balkans, or some such place. All I know is that he produced a legitimate looking paper, had me sign it, hooked up the car and hoisted it on top. He then jumped back in his tractor-trailer and deftly maneuvered it around the block and out of sight.

As I watched him disappear, I could only hope that somehow – miraculously – our car would end up across the country in the hands of our son.

But of course, that would have all been just too easy.

As I noted, Colleen and Nancy were visiting Jessica and I for a few days. The day they arrived, another dear family friend and her husband showed up for their daughter's graduation from a local college. I ran around reorganizing beds and places for people to sleep, and we had a wonderful late evening reminiscing with them all. The next day, after getting my friends off to their daughter's big event, I decided to show Nancy and Colleen the 'big city', and hence scheduled a bus tour of Washington DC. The evening before, the girls had ended up sleeping at Jessica's house and Colleen came back home upset because one of the roommates had a huge Great Dane puppy that remained locked up in a giant cage all day long and into the night. Colleen was devastated that the owner did not care for that poor animal enough to let it out. Hence, our tour of DC was interrupted with heated discussions concerning what we could do about it – along with almost tearful renditions of the plight of this dog.

While watching monuments zip by.

In the midst of all that, I was also texting Colby back and forth all day since the car was to be delivered to him at any moment – and I knew the non-English-speaking Balkan was not exactly going to be going door to door asking where he was. Suddenly, Colby stopped answering me. I waited, and waited – and waited. For hours.

Finally, I saw that I had received a phone call from an unknown number. I called it back. It was Colby, using a friends phone. It seems that he had gone swimming in a pool with friends, and as he ran and leapt into the pool – he looked down at his hand just as he was about to hit the water – and noticed that he was still clutching his cell phone.

So, he was using his friend's still functional phone to call and find out what to do.

Of course the only contact phone that the Balkan had was Colby's – which was now sitting on the bottom of the pool – and not exactly getting much reception.

Nancy turned to me and said, "How is it that NOTHING in your life goes according to plan?"

I had to admit, I simply had no answer.
CHAPTER 31: "for I am poor and needy. My heart is wounded within me." (Psalm 109:22)

It was shortly after that that we moved to our final home in Virginia. It was really just a mile or so away from our rental – but finally the home we decided to purchase. As usual, the move was filled with out of control chaos, drama and unbelievable trauma before all was said and done – but, as noted before, we were pretty much used to all this.

Our first morning after we were FINALLY in the home, I noted that all of our furniture and lives had led up, it seemed, to this house! Everything that we had accumulated along the way fit absolutely perfectly here! I wondered.

Is this what heaven will be like? Will we discover that absolutely everything in our lives was just a precursor for our time there? Will we see that all that went before will 'fit' perfectly when we get to where God is leading us? I had a very strong feeling that the answer was "Yes".

Oh why, then, do I fret so with all that happens?

No clue.

But I was beginning to find out. As I noted, I could not understand why I was so upset at my parent's lack of notice of my birthday. It was the silliest thing in the world! But it still tore me up. I realized that Rachel had had such amazing insights when she went through Theophostic prayer – perhaps it might be a good idea for me to try it as well. It was, once again, when the healing began.

If you recall from our earlier (one-sided) conversation; the idea behind Theophostic prayer is that we have feelings and reactions to current situations that are rarely actually being caused by those situations. They are caused by instances that have happened to us in the past that gave the Enemy an opportunity to plant lies in our hearts. Every time something remotely similar happens – it triggers that lie, and our defensive reaction against it.

It is only when you trace the emotion of the current situation back – in a prayerful situation – that you can find the root of the real problem. If you seek the Lord's TRUTH in that situation – you become released from the lie, and those things no longer bother you. I had seen it happen with Rachel, and I was hoping it would happen with me. When I continued to have such sadness over something as silly as my parents not calling me for my birthday – at the age of 50 (!!) for goodness sake – I had a very good inkling that there was a much deeper 'root' to this issue. Since I couldn't seem to get at it myself; I sought the help of Theophostic prayer.

It was one of the best things I ever did. You see, I grew up in a household where people sinned. I know; it's shocking isn't it? But in all seriousness, it was not until I was an adult – and listening to other adults and witnessing them interact with their families – that I began to suspect that perhaps my childhood was not exactly 'normal'. When you are 8 years old and your mother flies into a rage and tries to kill your older sister – that is not normal. But it was not exactly out of the ordinary in my home. Indeed, I was raised to believe that, if it were not for us children and all the terrible things we did to set our parents off – they would be just fine. But if, God forbid, something were not exactly perfect when they got home from work – there would be hell to pay. And we knew, it would be no one's fault but our own.

An even more violent father had raised my mom; and hence she was barely able to contain her own woundedness. It came out in rage that got exceedingly worse as she grew older. My dad had come out of a loving home; but had experienced a terrible event as a child; an event that allowed Satan to plant deep, deep lies into his heart.

He was the youngest of five boys, with a devout Irish Catholic mother. One day, when he was only about 5 or so, his big brothers were playing stickball. My dad wanted to play; but of course, was too little. He threw a temper tantrum, and his brother Robby's best friend, Jimmy, went over, shoved him and told him to go home. Dad began to cry and Robby – being a big brother – punched his friend in the head and told him to leave his little brother alone. As things usually go with a bunch of knucklehead boys – they worked it all out and got on with the game.

That night, Jimmy died in his sleep of a brain hemorrhage caused by Robby's punch to his head.

A huge trial ensued, where Robby was charged with Jimmy's murder. The only thing that saved him was Jimmy's parents. Although Jimmy had been their only child; they tearfully asked the court to spare Robby. They knew, they told the Judge, that Robby loved their son as much as they did – and that knowing he had inadvertently killed his best friend was a far worse punishment then they could ever imagine.

The Judge let him go.

But Robby didn't let himself go. The grief and guilt over having killed his best friend drove him away from the neighborhood and into the Army – after lying about his age to get in. When his parents found out, they attempted to travel down south to the boot camp he was in, expose the fact that he was underage, and bring him back home. Before they could, Pearl Harbor was bombed. And by the time they tracked Robby down – he had long since been shipped out.

Robby fought his way through all of World War II; and lost his life shortly after it ended. My dad never forgave himself for having thrown the temper tantrum that – Satan so ably convinced him – ultimately led to the death of Jimmy, AND his brother.

He has since avoided controversy, and standing up to people, his entire life.

The only problem with that is when you avoid standing up to evil. For this is exactly what he did. As the enemy triggered my mother more and more to take out her woundedness on her helpless children, he equally triggered my dad to believe that dad could do nothing about it. So instead, my father became 'busy'. He had a life of great success in business and politics and is widely respected by all who know him. Yet it came at a cost; and that cost was our childhoods.

My older sister turned her pain inward, and has spent a lifetime suffering from depression and autoimmune illnesses. My little sister turned her pain outward, and has spent her life in one angry altercation after another – along with autoimmune illnesses. My older brother ran away, and returned with his anger still intact – along with autoimmune illnesses. My younger brother simply caved. Like my older sister, he has lived passively. All my siblings ended up never really leaving home – as grown adults they still rely on the generosity of my parents. That generosity comes at a price, and often that price is silence, and denial of the truth.

I however, just plain left. For another thing happened when I was 8 years old; something that changed my focus. My little sister Sally was born. From that moment onward, I sought not so much to protect myself – as to protect her. And I did. I can remember being around 10 years old. Sally slept in the same bed with me, and on frequent occasions she would wet the bed. I had seen what happened to children in my house when they did that. My poor younger brother still wet the bed at his age; and we would awaken to hear my parents dragging him down the stairs to the basement; him crying, begging and pleading for forgiveness the whole way; and then we would listen to his screams as they whipped him for it.

It is a horrible thing to be so little and so helpless. I would lie in bed and know that I should help him – he was my little brother for goodness sake (!) – but I was also too terrified to do anything about it. It was a prime breeding ground for the Enemy's lies. I grew to believe that I was a horrible person, and too selfish and weak to do anything good for anyone else.

And so, when my little sister began wetting the bed we were sleeping in, I would quietly get up in the middle of the night, change her pajamas and settle her down onto the floor. Then I would tiptoe around the house, quietly and silently stripping the bed, washing and drying the sheets and putting them back on. No one would ever know; and, most importantly, she would be kept safe from harm. I learned, early, that it was all up to me. And I was 10 years old.

Even so, it was, as it turned out, a way to shelter myself from the evil. I could take my pain and direct it to good – to saving someone else. It insulated me to a great extent. And like much of everything else in our lives – it was a generational reaction. But back then; I of course didn't know that.

For the grandfather who had so badly abused my mother had himself suffered great woundedness as a child (no shocker there). He was only a few years old when his mother died. Since those were the days long before 'child care', there were little options available to men other than placing all your children in an orphanage until you could wed again. Hence my great-grandfather did just that. My own grandfather, it seems, remained bitter his entire life over it. His sister, however, had a different reaction to their time in the orphanage. She was older than him and their other brother – and hence, she set about to protect them the entire time they remained in the orphanage. She took on the pain and the sacrifice – and tried to make their time there as sheltered and pain free as she could. And the result? She grew up and entered the Dominican Religious Order and continued to pour her life out as a kindergarten teacher until the day she died. For many, many years after her death, former students came back to her Order seeking to hug the tiny little nun who had been the most loving and kind person they had ever known in their lives. My grandfather? In his bitterness, he took out his rage on his children – and the generational sin continued on down.

Once again, sacrifice is proven to unleash the power of God in this world, and in the one who sacrifices. Does this really surprise us? How did Jesus unleash the power of God's love in this world? Yes, his stories were great, and hey – the miracles were awesome! But it was none of those that ultimately broke the power of sin. It was the sacrifice.

God is a fairly simple Being, I've come to see. And He has designed a world much like Him – simple. So if you want to know how it is supposed to work – look to Christ. The simple Face of God. We are not told to 'follow Jesus' for no good reason. We are told to do that, mostly, to unleash His Power, Grace, Mercy and Love into this world – and into our own lives.

I don't know about you; but that sounds pretty much like a win / win combination to me.
CHAPTER 32: "In all your ways be mindful of him, and he will make straight your paths." (Proverbs 3:6)

Needless to say, I had plenty of 'roots' to dig up; and countless 'lies' to expose. As I did, 2 things began to happen. One, obviously, was that I stopped reacting to all the triggers that had once kept me in misery. Less and less things bothered me. The unexpected second thing that happened is that my prayer life; and my experience of the closeness of God, began to take off. It was as though one blockage after another between us was knocked down, cleared through and vaporized.

But there may have been more involved than just the Theophostic prayer. That prayer is what began my healing – but it was someone else's prayer that GOT me to go to Theophostic prayer. And that someone was Jessica.

Unbeknownst to me, about a month before the idea came to me to go for Theophostic prayer, Jessica had an amazing experience in front of the tabernacle at her church. Apparently she was frustrated at the bondage I appeared to be under. For you see, I was constantly being triggered by the lies that I was selfish, mean, worthless and did nothing for anyone else – all the things Satan had planted in my brain when I was young and unable to 'save' others. The difference now was that I could do 'something' for others – and my constant triggers had me constantly doing just that. Regardless of how tired I was, how weak I was, how sick I was – I was tortured with guilt if I wasn't doing something for somebody. It was killing me; but I seemed to be the only one who didn't know that.

Jessica did; and hence one day, she had it out with God. She sat in front of His Tabernacle and pleaded with Him to release me from my bondage. She told Him that He had the power to do it – and that she knew it! As she continued to pester Him repeatedly, she suddenly had a vision. In it, she saw the Throne Room of Heaven, and God on His Throne. At that, all she could do was say, over and over again: "Holy! Holy! Holy!!"

Suddenly she witnessed a covenant made with St. Michael to break the bondage that I had been held in, and she heard it proclaimed, "Done!"

Then she felt God ask her to pray for all people.

Instead, she began praying for the souls in Purgatory, while a tiny fleeting thought came from deep inside, "so that they can then pray for me!"

Disobedience is not exactly a good move when you have the Direct Attention Of God.

She said later that it was the most horrible moment of her life. Instantly she felt the WRATH of God. In horror and agony, she fell onto the floor writhing in unbearable pain. She said that there are simply no words to describe the incredible wrath of God. But she then felt the presence of the Blessed Mother. Mary was advising her to go and kiss the altar in the church. She stumbled and struggled to get to the Main Altar where she sobbed and threw herself down. Suddenly, there was a hand on her shoulder, and a woman was there who held and rocked her like a small child. The woman kept soothing her, saying over and over, "It's alright, it's alright. I love you."

And it was then, that Jessica knew.

It was MARY. It was Mary who deflected God's wrath! Jessica was in complete and total awe at the power of Mary – the Mother of God, and our mother – and at Mary's power to hold back the Hand of God through her humble intercession. Jessica was also in awe, and incredibly humbled and bowed at the power, and wrath, of God. Later, as she told me this story, she wondered whether people would continue to live the lives they were living – if they had any real clue about it. Never, ever, in a million years, would she EVER want to do anything to be subjected to it again. Not even for a second.

And there are those in our culture today who openly say: 'Hey, just bring it on!!!'

– for all eternity –

Which is proof positive, I guess; that ignorance is NOT bliss.

Nonetheless, it was right after this that the thought came to me that I needed to seek out Theophostic prayer. Which, I think, shows us another important fact. God can heal us – but He usually uses the people He equips and empowers on this earth to do it through. Can He heal us outright? You betcha! Can He also use others – therefore making them a part of the blessing also? Sure can!!!

As I began uncovering lies, and finding the real Truth in the circumstances I had been through, I discovered that I was beginning to actually be able to feel things again. For so long, the only thing I had felt was panic and fear – which was not unusual with the children I was given – but that's beside the point... Long before I had those children, I had learned to protect myself from pain by closing off my heart. If you build a wall around your feelings; then you just don't get hurt. Problem was, that you just don't feel either! As the walls were coming down, I was beginning to feel more and more. It was wonderful, and it seemed like new life had begun to come to me again.

This was good, of course, because the 'old life' was doing its best to keep up.

The night of Rachel's high school graduation, we all celebrated by going out to dinner. Half way through, Rachel had to excuse herself, because, she claimed, the 'All Night Graduation Party' at the school was about to begin – and she had to get there before the doors closed for the night. We all congratulated her again, told her to enjoy her graduation party, and get going! Once again, the rest of the story was much more complicated.

The next morning I woke at 5 am, and went to fix my morning cup of tea. I noticed the telephone message center blinking. I listened to the message and heard, "Hello, this is Goodwin High School. We are checking on Rachel James because she never showed up for the All Night Graduation Party at the school here tonight – even though she has signed up for it and paid the $65 fee." (Correction: I paid the fee!!!) The call had come in at 1:50 am – long after J.J. had received Rachel's text letting him know that she was at the party and having a 'wonderful!' time. I checked Rachel's bed – never slept in. I immediately placed her in God's hands. I knew that she was safer there – especially right now – than in my own...

Needless to say, Renfrew had not completely 'cured' Rachel of her tendency toward sin – since sin is a spiritual condition – and one cured only by God. Rachel had had other's do the work to heal her – but she herself had not yet set her own will to obey. She was, like pretty much every one else who follows today's 'culture', willing to simply go through life reacting to events – and then bemoaning why nothing ever changes for them. Who do we really think is the one, therefore, who is 'creating' the events for us to react to? Well when our actions involve lying, deception, rebellion and other sins – is that really a question we don't already know the answer to?

I had to realize that until Rachel decided that she loved us, and respected us, more than her own desires – there was absolutely nothing I could do to change her. My own healing was beginning to open my eyes to see that I simply could not make someone love, respect and care about me. After all, I am NOT God.

Who knew?! Certainly not me.

And anyway, not even God makes us love Him – and He... Is... GOD!

You know, this 'free will' stuff sounds so great when it is your own will and you are getting to be mighty 'free' with it. It's not so hot, though, when it is someone else's; and you are watching them ride it all the way to hell. Literally.

As Rachel continued to disobey and rebel against us; I finally got to the point where prayer was the only thing I could do. Little did I know that that was where I should have started...
CHAPTER 33: "Buy the truth, and don't sell it. Get wisdom, discipline, and understanding." (Proverbs 23:23)

For the thing about healing that is so great, is that you begin not only to live your life the way you were meant to live it – but you also stop trying to live others. In my pre-healing state of being triggered into the need to save everyone, I had translated that into even saving him or her from himself or herself. It's kind of hard to do that – and do it well. But with healing, I no longer had that need, and so I began letting truth come into the co-dependence air around me. A few days after yet another one of Rachel's deceptions, she ran out to get a cup of coffee – and didn't come back for a few hours. When I called her, she was sooo apologetic. She just didn't know why she did the things she did, but she wanted me to stay up late and help her try to figure it out. I just looked at her and asked, "Why?" Why did she think I owed her sitting up half the night trying to figure out why she was incapable of doing what she knew she was supposed to do? What more was there to do and say? I pointed out that we had given her every opportunity – doctors whose appointments she skipped (that we were fined for), medicine in the cabinet she wouldn't take, counseling she stopped going to.

Why?

I told her, finally, that it was obvious that it was simple; the only person she cared about was herself. If she really, truly DID care about others, she would take measures to show it. That's what you do when you really do love others. I drew her attention to my younger sister. Sally was much younger than the rest of us, and after we had all fled our home, she was left alone. The way she dealt with her woundedness was to pour her own needs onto animals. She was forever loving and protecting animals as an unconscious means of loving and protecting herself. The problem with that is that when you spend all your efforts loving and protecting something else – you never heal your own wounds deep inside. Nonetheless, Sally grew up to love all animals – but especially horses. Denying any need for healing, she had instead at some point in her life determined that she deserved to have horses. The only problem was that, like most of us, she couldn't afford them. Her husband did not make enough money – even with all the countless overtime he worked – to support a wife, children AND horses; and Sally was not working outside of the home. She was too busy riding her horses.

For most people, the solution to financial problems is simple. You give up the things you want; for the sake of the things your family needs. But that was not the solution my sister came up with. She decided instead that her family would give up its needs, so that she could have her wants. Her children had no heat in their house aside from a small wood burning stove on the first floor – but her horses had power and running water in their barn. Now a wood-burning stove is not so bad – except when the smoke is damaging your child's lungs – and the doctors tell you so. It didn't matter. My sister wanted horses. However, since there was never really enough money to pay for all the things that came with the horses, certain things went by the wayside. Things like the protective measures you put into place to keep your small children safe from running horses – like, oh say... fences. Twice, the ambulance had been called to take her unconscious daughter from the farm after having been kicked by a horse – the same mean horse that tried to kill Sally herself – but the one that Sally loved most of all. The second time, her daughter was left with minor brain damage and hence an acquired learning disability.

No matter. The horses stayed; the daughter just learned to live with it.

Now, if you were to talk to my sister, she would cry and tell you that her children were the most important things in her life! Having clung so desperately to denial for so long; she was unable to recognize the truth that was staring her in the face. So she would say that she was heartbroken the children had no heat in the winter, and she was furious that her husband simply didn't work three jobs so they could afford to care for their children adequately. But what she wouldn't do – was to give up her horses. It was simple. She wanted them. She refused to consider that perhaps she was in the wrong – perhaps she had issues deep inside that she should address. No, it was easier to just continue on the path she was on – it was easier to just deny, and blame everyone else of being 'mean' when they didn't agree with her. You knew that she had chosen to live in denial, because when you pointed out the truth of all the things her family could afford – all the wonderful things that they really needed – if she simply got rid of the horses; then that's when she REALLY got mad. Now you were attacking her – or rather, the thing she loved – herself.

As I pointed this out to Rachel, I noted that generational sins tend to repeat in families – and she was in danger of allowing it to repeat in hers. I, for one, would no longer just stand there and buy into the Enemy's lie that there was nothing she could do about it. There was. She could stop putting her wants first; and start thinking a little more of the needs of others. And if she really was physically, emotionally or mentally incapable of doing that – then she could do the hard work of going through healing available to her, until she was able to.

I noted then Christ's words in Matthew 9: 16-17 that: "no one puts a piece of unshrunk cloth on an old garment; for the patch would tear away from the garment, and a worse hole is made. Neither do people put new wine into old wineskins, or else the skins would burst, and the wine be spilled, and the skins ruined. No, they put new wine into fresh wineskins, and both are preserved."

In other words; you don't just try to piecemeal yourself back together when you know you have a problem. You begin anew and take a look at your whole self. You may have to completely tear it apart and start over – but then you are putting 'new wine' into 'fresh wineskins' – and preserving your life AND soul.

I don't know if she really heard me; but I know that God did. And I think He was happy that I was finally beginning to put 'new wine' into my own 'fresh wineskin'. In doing so; I was putting truth into the world around me – and measuring things according to that. For God has set up this world in such a way as to eventually lead us all back to him. And it is fiercely tied to the concept of reaping and sowing. If someone sows sin – then the natural outflow of that is bad stuff. The sinner 'sows' sin, and 'reaps' pain. The pain, God hopes, will be enough to make them wake up and turn back to Him. If they don't, then the sin continues to be sown and the results reaped get worse and worse. Sooner or later – it usually has the desired effect.

Denial happens when someone gets between the sinner and the natural results of sowing sin. These people are often referred to as 'enablers'. They continue to 'enable' someone to sow sin – while they run around trying to soften the blows of the 'reaping'. Therefore, a sinner can make it through an entire life – depending on how diligent their 'enablers' are – without ever being forced to turn back to the source of true life, grace, mercy and peace.

We all know someone like this; they are frequently right in our family, and are often known as 'black sheep'. If they are siblings, we are usually bemoaning our parents who are 'bailing them out'. The first step, however, to stopping the enabling is to bring Truth into the equation. Truth is a source of pain to us sinners – because it shines God's light onto our sin. Like a schoolgirl and a puppy, we have usually dressed up that sin in cute little doll's clothing – and it has become our own little pet. We then work hard to keep the truth of that sin far from us. When the enabling stops – then our pet (like a puppy in doll's clothing) begins to do what is natural; it pees all over the perfect little picture we have created. Nothing like puppy pee all over doll clothing to get somebody to rip those clothes off real fast... Aka, Truth Prevails!

My healing had shown that, growing up in a house filled with denial of the reality of what was happening in our home, I had learned to accept lies and grown afraid to confront them. Now I saw that when there is an absence of truth; then there is an absence of Christ. For Jesus IS Truth. He himself told us so.

"Jesus answered, "I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me." John 14:16

He was clearer still when asked by Pilate what He was there for:

"Pilate therefore said to him, "Are you a king then?" Jesus answered, "You say that I am a king. For this reason I have been born, and for this reason I have come into the world, that I should testify to the truth. Everyone who is of the truth listens to my voice." Pilate said to him, "What is truth?" John 18: 37-38

Like Pilate, we have become a culture that scoffs at truth. But we cannot live without it – because we cannot live without God. When we deny it, we invite evil in. For as we all know; as Aristotle suggested; and as physics proves: nature abhors a vacuum. If we remove one thing – God (who IS truth) – then another will rush in to take its place – His enemy, and ours. Is it any big wonder why our culture grows more and more depraved and evil filled each and every day?

No wonder to me.

I could only pray that it would be no wonder to Rachel either. And, as I've noted, prayer is where we should all begin.
CHAPTER 34: "I will not leave you orphans. I will come to you." (John 14:18)

Little did I know that God was, once again, biding His time until the moment arrived that He had planned for. That moment showed up in the guise of the Franciscan University of Steubenville Youth Conferences – being held some place in Ohio. I had heard of these conferences before, and had actually roped Colby and Rachel into going to a similar one up in New England back before we moved. That, however, was yet another disastrous story. Suffice it to say – not much happened other than my children fleeing.

Yet now we were at the proverbial – and actual – end of our rope. We had tried everything with Rachel; and yet she continued to struggle. For some reason, she lacked the power to let go of the signature markings of the enemy in her life – lying, deception, rebellion and denial. She was choosing to listen, once again, to the broader culture that continued to insist those things were just fine.

I insisted that all 3 girls go to the Steubenville conference; and actually made arrangements for J.J. and I to drive them there. And so, early one July morning found us doing just that. We arrived at the campus about 5 hours later and took a tour. It was a lovely small school, built first and foremost around the Chapel. They even had an exact replica of the church that St. Francis of Assisi had built. Just being there brought you into a sense of the Presence of God. It was amazing.

We went to noontime Mass –and were completely unprepared for the experience. The Chapel was packed with old and young – mostly young. The participation in the Mass had the roof practically coming off; the singing almost brought you right up into the heavenlies. It gave me goose bumps. There is simply no way to describe the experience of engaging in worship with people who are on fire for their faith. Unbelievable.

And then we went to the bookstore. I was standing there, engaging in my most favorite activity in the world – looking at books – when a young college girl came up to me. "Excuse me," she said, "I don't want to bother you, but I was standing a couple rows behind you in church and I noticed your family. I just wanted, therefore, to come up and thank you for your sacrifice of dedication to your family. It is the best thing for this nation – and for those of us who live in it. And so.... Thank You!"

She then just as quietly walked away – leaving me standing there – with my mouth gaping open. "My girls have GOT to go to this college!!" I thought...

And that was only the beginning. J.J. and I made our goodbyes and headed back home, leaving them there for the conference. What happened during it changed all of our lives. We heard Sarah's story first, when they returned from their weekend. A huge amount of the weekend was devoted to praise and worship, interlaced with people speaking about God and all that He has done, and was doing. Along with how much He loved them. It's one thing to be among a group of people hearing that; it's another to be among a few thousand teenagers doing the same. The girls were beginning to realize that, unlike what our 'friends' had told them up in Connecticut, perhaps J.J. and I were not the odd ones out. Maybe the culture at large was. Because, you see, these were the most JOYFUL teenagers they had ever met. Everyone was so happy, they were so enthusiastic; many were traveling the world – seeing and doing the most amazing things. In essence – these were the absolutely COOLEST kids they had ever met. And there was no end to them. It was an army of coolness – and my kids wanted desperately to become part of it.

They began to worship too, to turn to God and seek His Face. As Sarah told it, she turned to God for help with the incredible pain she had felt from the breakup with Ian. Suddenly it came to her – she had never gone to her Daddy for comfort – her REAL Daddy – God. She did. As she poured out her heart in tears, she felt the pain simply disappear. In its place was left joy – the joy of Christ. She was speechless.

Jessica had similar tales of incredible healing and inflow of joy. And Rachel – well. Rachel, as usual, does nothing in a small way. Rachel began praying for God to help her and suddenly, she had her own vision of the sky opening and seeing into the Courts of Heaven. In it, she saw God and Jesus sitting on their thrones, surrounded by the Saints and Angels. They were all looking down with great joy upon all these teens. She sensed their joy came from the worship of all these young people, because so few of them bothered to worship anymore. She felt that, whereas the students were being filled with such joy at the Presence of God – God was being filled with such joy at THEIR presence! She knew she just had to let everyone know.

And so she marched right up onto the stage.

Jessica told it better. Suddenly, she said, she looked up and there was her little sister, standing up on the stage in front of something like 5,000 teenagers, grabbing a microphone and shouting out that she had just seen God and that God was so joyful that they were all there! She then went on a rampage, praising God, praising them, getting everyone caught up in greater and greater worship of this One True and Holy God! Jessica said that she absolutely could not believe it – but that it was great; nonetheless.

Only Rachel.

The girls came back as changed women. They tossed out any and all 'immoral' clothing – you know, the stuff our culture claims is so 'sexy' and great. They now saw it as sinful, and stupid. Rachel broke off all contact with any of her friends that had been encouraging her to break the rules. All three girls expressed a great desire to attend school at Franciscan – and Rachel set her incredible will toward doing just that. Quickly, I helped her fill out and send in an application for the fall semester. But it was too late; she couldn't get in. So she signed up to take classes in the local community college and tried again for the spring. Her dedication and commitment were amazing. Overnight, she had changed. Now she had a new focus.

Later, I remembered the tale of the Sower sowing His Seed. One Sower, one seed. The history of Man has always been small. One person to one person – spreading the effects outward to others, and downward to future generations. Small – and personal. The Sower had sown His seeds, and now we watched as the effects played out differently in each of our children's lives. Rachel, now that He had come back for her and not left her as an orphan – began to make her own history. It was one we could only wonder, and marvel at – as we witnessed the effects of that one seed in our world.
CHAPTER 35: "Not only this, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering works perseverance..." (Romans 5:3)

But this is the James Family – remember? Surely it could not be THAT easy! The same day that the girls came back from Franciscan as changed women; Colby called with changed circumstances. His coach had gone back on his word. This did not exactly take me by surprise. Earlier, J.J. had made the fatal mistake of telling me something about this coach. J.J. had flown out to Arizona with a good friend to take part in a tournament with Colby's golf team. It was the dad's (and friends) against the boys. It was great fun, and a good fundraiser for the team. After the match, they had all met up for dinner in the restaurant. It was there that the Coach's wife joined them. After a couple drinks, the coach began encouraging his wife to tell 'the boys' about the charity tournament she had taken part in where she had good naturedly (?) simulated oral sex on one of the players. She then began to act out for 'the boys' what she had acted out in public at this tournament. J.J. said that everyone seemed a little uncomfortable, but the coach and his wife thought it was a hoot! I thought it was just two more Baal converts; which now became a big deal to me because this convert was mentoring MY SON as his coach. I became more watchful, and of course, since the god of Baal is not exactly on the side of 'good'; more and more things began to show. For instance, even though Bobby and the other freshman players were not on the team their first year, the Coach insisted that they play as 'independents' in the first match of the season – although he knew that that would start the clock ticking on their 5 years of eligibility. Bobby lost an entire year that first year. And he never played in more than that one match.

One student refused to let the Coach throw away his year like that – and the Coach responded by kicking him off the team. The student transferred to another school where he was treated with respect, and where the coach did not intentionally try to burn up his only chance to play college golf.

Amazingly, Bobby's Coach even grew angry if his students spent too much time studying, since that would take away from their practice time. Colby had actually been raised to try to do well in school; he was on the Dean's List, which made his coach mad.

Go figure.

The coach routinely called Colby into his office to point out the other students who were spending all their time practicing. Why couldn't Colby be as 'dedicated' as them? Of course, the coach ended up having to eat his words somewhat when those students flunked their classes and were temporarily disqualified from playing. No bother – he just blamed Colby. How, or why, you ask?

Now that's a silly question. You can't expect logical answers in a pagan world!

It didn't take much time to notice other things about this coach too: things like lying to his players.

He had promised Colby that if Colby stayed there for the summer and worked in his golf clinic – then he would pay Colby, and Colby would have a set spot on the team in the fall. Counting on his word, we had paid over a thousand dollars to ship the car across country, along with several hundred each month for rent and summer classes. But then, the Coach found a new favorite player for his team, and Colby was simply booted out. The new player was given the spot working in the clinic, and presumably, on the team come fall. Colby was devastated; but remained hopeful that the Coach would eventually 'do the right thing'. I however harbored no such illusions about a pagan; and Baal worshiper.

Nonetheless, J.J. told Colby that if he wanted to stay there, he would have to confront his Coach with the truth – the Coach had broken his word after we had spent a fortune in reliance on it. Colby eventually did; and furious at being called out, the Coach found him another job – but let Bobby know that he would no longer honor his promise for a set spot on the team.

Meanwhile, we were struggling with our own problems even closer to home. J.J.'s work was having difficulties, and financially, it was beginning to look shaky. He turned to me to fix the problem; I had to go back to work.

There was one minor detail, and it was this. My 'work' was the practice of law, and I was NOT sworn into the Virginia Bar. Hence, I could not practice law in Virginia. However, when J.J. and I had first talked about moving, I had looked up reciprocity. Reciprocity is when you have worked long enough in another state so that you can just 'waive in' to a new one. You fill out an application, prove you have worked for the requisite number of years – and waalaa – they assume you know enough to practice law there also. Great!

The problem came after we moved and I began to fill out the application. Sure, I had worked more than enough years to qualify. But for the purpose of the Virginia Bar, those years had to be full time years. In other words, I had had to work a full time job in order to 'qualify' as someone who could waive in. And that full time job had to have been for at least 5 years.

Certainly, in the last few years, when my practice really ramped up – I had probably been working hours equivalent to TWO full time jobs. But in the years before that, I had made sure that my practice did not intrude on my responsibilities to the children and J.J.. In fact, one year when the practice began to take off and I was having difficulty keeping my focus on the family – I pulled my ads and deliberately ramped it down. There was simply no way that I could say I had worked a full time job for 5 years.

J.J., on the other hand, saw no problem with this. I had been working all the time – he claimed. And whether or not I was in my office actively meeting with clients – was irrelevant as my practice was always on my mind.

We plain and simply disagreed. But I was the one who had to raise my right hand and swear to the truth of my assertion. I just couldn't do it.

It even got to the point where I drove to Richmond to the State Bar Association headquarters just to ask the people there what they thought. Did 'full time' have to be 'full time' hours in an office? Yes, they replied. It was pretty straightforward. My good friend Anne had gone with me on the journey. When I told her how I felt so much agitation in my heart about it, she responded with very wise words. "Well, that solves it," she said, "if you don't have peace in your heart about it – then don't do it. That's an easy decision! Besides," she continued, "maybe all these obstacles in your way to become a Virginia attorney are because God wants you to do something else now." When she said that, I felt such a confirmation in my inner being, as though my spirit was saying, "this is it! Listen to her!!"

It was even clearer when I came across the following Scripture shortly thereafter:

"But I will leave a people in your midst... the remnant of Israel. They shall... speak no lies; nor shall there be found in their mouths a deceitful tongue..." Zephaniah 3:13

How in the world, I reasoned, could I have seen so much of the Glory of God, and even be contemplating for a minute allowing a lying spirit anywhere into my life? What, was I crazy??!! Had I not seen what the enemy can do with the slightest little crack in our armor?!! And so that pretty much settled that.

Even so, I still had no idea where the money would come from to get the kids through college – but if it was not this, then I just had to trust the Lord that He would show me the way.

It wasn't exactly a neon sign however, that popped up.
CHAPTER 36: "your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, "This is the way. Walk in it."" (Isaiah 30:21)

The first thing that did 'pop up' was a Scripture verse that leapt out at me. "My People are destroyed for lack of knowledge." Hosea 4:6. That's IT! I decided. Surely the Lord is telling me that I need to give people knowledge! After all, He has hard wired me with a curiosity about everything, and a bossiness to tell everyone what I learn! I stumbled upon a program that was offering a Masters of Library Science. Well what do you know – that MUST be it! I applied, and was accepted.

I had my doubts as to whether I could really 'save the people' from 'lack of knowledge.' But then I remembered that, in Mark 6: 33-22, when the Disciples faced the hungry multitudes – Jesus told them to fix the problem! They said it was impossible, but He just told them to do what they could. They collected the few fish and loaves – and HE multiplied their efforts astronomically. What was I worrying about?

In the meantime, however, it was soon fall and Colby was not doing well at golf try-outs. The coach was putting so much negative pressure on him that mentally he was just cracking. At the same time, Jessica called and offered her 'two cents': She thought that if Colby did not make the team, we should make him come back home. After all, she said, "these are the most important years to form his male character – and it is a terrible environment out there for it."

But it's a funny thing about people. New things are scary for us. I was witnessing this up close and personal. After not having roller-skated for decades, I had taken it up again as a form of exercise. Listening to J.J. telling me I was going to 'break your hip and end up in a nursing home'; I decided to do it the safe way. I took lessons. Even so, when I first started I was too afraid to leave our street. Hills were DEFINATELY off limits! But it was good insight into what my children were going through. New things are always scary – it didn't matter how old you were. Even if you were old enough to break your hip and end up in a nursing home; you could still get scared over something new. You just had to go slow – and sometimes, the hills simply had to wait!

Colby had settled into his college. He had his first real girlfriend, and had developed close friendships with the other boys on his team. It was a small school, and so he was fairly well known and popular. However, it was not exactly an intellectual mecca. But nonetheless, Colby was comfortable there – hence he had no desire to try someplace 'new'.

Rachel, meanwhile, was doing well for the first time in years. She was focused and busy. She kept working toward that admittance to Franciscan University. Meanwhile, J.J. had had a long talk with God, himself. When we had seen Franciscan, we had both been bowled over by how wonderful it was. It was like stepping back in time to a simpler, more blessed era in our Nation when people had, and lived, their faith. Of course, in that kind of environment, blessing upon blessing flowed. J.J. wanted those blessings for his children – but just didn't see how we could afford it. Hence his heart to heart with God. J.J. told God that he would support and do everything in his power if Franciscan University was the place God wanted the girls to go – but... But, he continued, God would have to help him come up with the money. He simply had no idea where it would come from. Being a simple man, my husband left it at that. He had put it in God's hands, and was confident that God was 'big enough' to handle it. He then got on with his life. And thought no more on it. Imagine that!

And then Colby got cut from the team.

J.J. was on a layover out in California and decided to go visit him. Colby was just hanging around, not doing much. I noted before that his school did not exactly have much of a reputation as an intellectual mecca – hence it did not require a whole lot of time and effort to pass one's classes. Without golf, Colby had a lot of time on his hands – and it was slipping through them. J.J. had seen this all play out years before, when the exact same thing happened to his brother Steve. Steve's coach had 'cut' Steve from the team also, but strung him along for 4 years hinting that he might take Steve back. He never did; and it is one of Steve's greatest regrets in life. J.J. did not want to see history repeat itself in his own son. During his visit, J.J. had a bad feeling as he watched Colby and his girlfriend just hang out all day – doing nothing.

Finally, J.J. decided to be blunt. He told Colby that he had to stop drifting and reacting to life. Colby had to decide what he wanted to do – and take steps in that direction. Sitting on the sofa with his girlfriend all day was not exactly going to get him very far in any direction! AND sitting on a sofa as an out-of-state student paying huge tuition to get a degree from a school known for fairly worthless degrees – was also NOT something we were going to pay for. Once he'd lost his golf scholarship – pretty much everything changed. We had other children to get through college, and if Rachel got accepted to Franciscan – it would drain most of our resources. There was surely not going to be money left to pay out-of-state tuition to a school – simply because Colby's friends were there. J.J. asked him to weigh the two – our limited resources being spent on a college solely because his friends were there; or being spent on a college that would heal, and possibly save, his sister's life.

After reflecting on all this, Colby agreed to come home the following semester. J.J.'s questions got him to finally think about what he wanted; and he wanted to play college golf. Colby also realized that he could no longer count on his not-exactly-trustworthy coach to enable him to play golf there, and so he and J.J. decided it would be best for Colby to request a leave of absence, and go home the next semester to consider his options.

That decision opened up our lives for the next. Franciscan University called – Rachel was accepted!! Praise God – she began in the Spring. As Colby came home from college, she left for college. As she left behind community college coursework – Colby began it.

I flew out, just before Christmas, to get him. It was awful. The goodbye scene between he and his girlfriend was heartbreaking. He had become extremely close to her family and to her 10 year old brother. They both looked grief stricken as we pulled away –

Awful.

As we began the long drive back across country; he choking back tears the entire time and me feeling like, once again, my child was suffering and I was unable to make it better – I did the only thing I could. I prayed that the terrible sacrifice he was making would result in good things in his life.

Now I wonder how in the world I ever thought it might not?!!
CHAPTER 37: "And not only this, but we also exult in our tribulations, knowing that tribulation brings about perseverance; and perseverance, proven character; and proven character, hope..." (Romans 5:3-4)

And so one day early in 2009, we all piled in the van. Packed to the gills, we began our trek to Franciscan University. I had no idea how we would ever get all that crap up to Rachel's room. My worries were, once again, unfounded. Shocking, ain't it?

We pulled up in front of her dorm, and suddenly all the doors to the van flew open. A small army of students began grabbing all of her stuff, and like an ant colony – carried it all up the stairs. I sat there speechless. This was my third child moving into a college dorm – NEVER had I seen anything like it before! They were all so happy, so welcoming, so joyful – so uncanny. It made me want to pinch myself just to see if I was dreaming. Trust me, I wasn't (I pinched myself).

We had dragged Jessica with us, so that she could see the campus. The whole drive up, I kept encouraging her to consider applying to obtain a Masters Degree there. She was working in a home for mentally handicapped young adults – and so she didn't really have much incentive to change. She got to take the young adults to everything SHE wanted to do – movies, plays, parks, parties – and she got paid for it! Not only that, but she was enjoying herself in the young adult world of Washington, DC – going out every night and having a fun time. But I just wasn't sure where that lifestyle would lead. She seemed capable of so much more...

Regardless, there is something about Franciscan that draws you to it like a deer to water. While there, Jessica was suddenly excited, and met with the Director of the Graduate Studies Program concerning beginning a Masters of Counseling Degree. She needed to hustle though, since she had to take the GRE in order to qualify.

Once back in DC, and engaged once again in the party life – those thoughts drifted away. I kept pestering her about them; but she finally said she was not interested in shaking up her life – she was happy where she was.

That may have been her first mistake. When she decided against 'shaking up her life' than she pretty much left it up to God. And when God does a little 'shaking up' – it often more closely resembles an Earthquake.

But it takes a little time to move some Tectonic Plates – so let's not get ahead of ourselves...

On Colby and my long drive back from California, he had confided in me all the things he hoped to do – focus on his golf swing, find out what was going on mentally that was sabotaging his game, and get onto a new college's golf team. I promised to help him in trying to accomplish these things. J.J. pointed out, afterward, that there was no way I could do that and begin taking a bunch of Library Science Master level courses – and so my new 'career' was put on hold. I spent the winter months lining up appointments for Colby, checking out other colleges, and sending his information out in applications.

One day, there was an answer back. A small Virginia college that had recently become a Division I school was looking for new talent for the upcoming fall. We were so excited. We drove down with Colby to see the school and meet the Coach. I was sold the minute I walked into his office. His wall was strewn with pictures drawn by his children – one of which depicted a child's image of the Holy Spirit. TOUCHDOWN! We were equally impressed when we met the other boys on the team for lunch. They were all business majors, and grumbled about Coach pestering them constantly to do their schoolwork. In fact, they had to leave lunch early because Coach made them attend a study hall each day before their afternoon classes began. Imagine that – a coach who actually cared about his players' futures – as much as winning tournaments. This was a Coach that wanted to achieve success for his young charges, not only in sports, but also in life. And so he stressed discipline – making the boys attend a 6 a.m. workout session each day, and teaching them to closely manage their time to fit in practice – and schoolwork. He also pushed them to compete not only athletically, but also academically; and each year he stood by proudly as his boys were given the award for highest GPA among all the athletic teams.

The difference? Well today, Colby and all of his Virginia teammates have Business/Accounting degrees, successful jobs and promising futures. His teammates from California however, never finished college and instead work at minimum wage jobs. Many of them had their college eligibility years burnt up by the coach – who rarely ever played them. And so they were not even able to advance in a golf career. Wasted opportunities, and wasted lives – by a man who cared more for himself, then for all these young, promising and hopeful lives entrusted to him.

Does he really think that there is not an ultimate price to be paid for that? Sadly, as a pagan, he has either forgotten – or never been told – that one day he will stand before God.

For we know Him who said, "VENGEANCE IS MINE, I WILL REPAY." And again, "THE LORD WILL JUDGE HIS PEOPLE."... It is a terrifying thing to fall into the hands of the living God." Hebrews 10:30-31

Nonetheless, J.J. and I were sold on this new school. Colby was also excited to try to make the team, since he would be playing Division I schools. He just needed to get his eligibility back...

And thus began the long 'dance' according to the NCAA 'dance book' rules. They can be summed up in one word:

Nightmare.

And that was just for starters. Although this new college was interested in Colby – they couldn't even talk to him until his OLD College released him. And it had be done – just so.

Then there were conversations that had to be engaged in – just so.

And rules that had to be followed – just so.

And meetings that had to happen – you got it – just so.

I was sure that J.J., Colby or I would end up shooting ourselves – just so.

It all seemed to be making our lives just a little tooooo difficult. But you know, you would think that I – of all people – would stop using the words 'toooo difficult'. Because they always engender this kind of response:

"How difficult?"

"Are you kidding me? As difficult as can be!!!"

"Yeah; well... specify."

"Okay – things are so difficult that we could not possibly handle anything else!!"

And that almost always seems to – at least in MY life – lead to:

"Oh yeah?"
CHAPTER 38: But when Jesus heard it, he said, "This sickness is not to death, but for the glory of God, that God's Son may be glorified by it." (John 11:4)

I actually heard the news second hand. No, strike that, third hand! The first one to hear was the friend that she asked to bail her out – after her night spent in jail. The second one to hear was J.J.. And me? Well, they told me last. Guess they were afraid I might fall apart and lay on the floor crying out "how in the world could this happen to my child??!!!!"

Or not.

As par for the course in our lives – the same day we got the news that Colby was accepted not only into this new college, but additionally onto this new D-1 team – we also got the news that Jessica was arrested for a DUI. As in Driving Under the Influence – of alcohol. That was not the biggest problem. The biggest problem was that we lived in Virginia – where they didn't mess around with DUI's (or for that matter, anything); and where you could easily go to jail for them. You know that commercial they play on TV with the Big Scary State Trooper in that Big Scary Hat pulling you over with a Big Scary Look on his face? It's actually not make-believe – in fact, it might indeed be the only truthful thing on television.

Yes, Folks; we had a verifiable Earthquake.

The Tectonic Plates had been shifting for quite some time on this one. And there were a lot of them to shift. There was the 'plate' concerning all the talents that God had given to Jessica. Talents that could be put to more use than, say... taking mentally disabled young adults to endless movies that Jessica wanted to see.

There was the 'plate' that led to nonstop partying in the big city; and the 'plate' that consisted of all the young pagans she was engaging in that partying with.

There was always the 'plate' of the Irish generational problem with alcohol.

In addition, there was the 'plate' of the amazing things Jessica could do to impact this world for Christ – if she just got off her butt and did it.

And lastly, of course, was the 'plate' of my constant prayer that God reach down and set her on a direct path to Him.

That may in fact have been the Epicenter Plate – because from there all the energy was released and spread like rings out across everything else – linking it all together. (You can just refer to me as 'Dr. Geologist' from here on out... It's amazing how smart a 'Google search' can make you look!!!)

But I digress.

When all was said and done – Jessica was looking at a loss of her license for a year (minimum) and time in jail (ALSO a minimum). I don't even want to think what the maximum might be! Yes, 'Second chances' may be a tune sung in some other states – but NOT in the Great State of Virginia. We had those Scary State Trooper images to uphold!

And we were scared – especially Jessica.

Nonetheless, it all seemed to be crystal clear to me from the very start. "What better place to be," I told her, "when you are without a car for a year – then on a college campus, getting your masters?"

At that, Jessica's interest in Franciscan University came flying back onto the front burner. And wouldn't you know it? The only major that she could ever possibly get into at that late date – was a Masters of Theology and Catechetics (the instruction of the faith). What a surprise...

Once again – the Plate Tectonic Theory holds true!!!
CHAPTER 39: "Blessed are they who mourn: for they shall be comforted." (Matthew 5:4)

Meanwhile, my own healing continued. Even with all the insights that came from Theophostic prayer, I slowly came to realize that I plain and simply needed more intensive healing. I had begun attending a group called 'Mothers of Troubled Teens' through a local church when Rachel had gone to Renfrew, and another mother in the group had told us about an incredible healing class that she had taken. It was a local class called Living Waters; which was a shoot off of an original Ministry known as Regeneration Ministry. A man who had grown up involved in the gay lifestyle began Regeneration Ministry. As an adult, he became a Christian. As he delved further into his faith, he began to question his so-called 'orientation'. Using Scripture, the Christian community and healing prayer – he slowly lost the attraction to members of the same sex; and instead began to develop attractions to the opposite sex. Shortly thereafter, he met the woman who would become his wife. After their marriage, he began Regeneration Ministry by duplicating all he had done to find healing. This ministry began to free many, many people from their childhood wounds that led to the bondage of homosexuality.

However, he began to notice that friends of homosexuals who also took part in the ministry began being healed of the patterns of sin they had developed to deal with their own childhood wounds. These patterns ran the gauntlet from alcoholism to drug addiction, from workaholism to eating disorders, and on and on and on. People simply respond to trauma with different coping mechanisms. Homosexuality is simply one of many. Living Waters became an offshoot of Regeneration Ministry, for those who struggled with childhood woundedness and developed different coping mechanisms besides same sex attraction. The woman in my 'Mothers of Troubled Teens' group said that it had been life changing for her – and so I sought it out. A new class was beginning, and I signed up. It lasted an entire school year – beginning in September and meeting every Thursday through until May. It was very intensive, with a great deal of reading, reflecting and prayer. When it was over, it had changed me too.

As I began to actually look at the things that had happened in my life, I was beginning to see more and more the great Plan of God in it all. I also began to see that I had been taking it all waaaay too personal.

For let me ask you a question. Which would you rather go through – getting pummeled yourself – or watching helplessly as someone pummels your child? Well if you are a parent who loves – you would most likely say watching someone pummel your child would be much worse.

And that is what it is all about.

All of the things that hurt us are caused by Satan working on the wounds and pain inflicted on us by others. Therefore, all pain originates in the Enemy. He is the author and perfector of it. And he aims it at us mainly to get at God. By hurting us – he knows he is hurting Our Lord – who must stand by helplessly and watch someone use their free will to damage His precious child. By wounding us – Satan is mainly wounding Christ. And so essentially we are simply standing in the Crossfire. This is an ultimate battle between Satan and God. NONE OF IT is about me; none of it is about you – it's about God. We are just pawns; and we either advance for Satan, or we advance for Christ, in this giant chess game called The World. Satan has had all of eternity to watch, and learn, human nature. He is a master at this game of wounding; and causing humans to wound each other. He then has generations of families repeating the same things their ancestors did – still falling prey to the same lies, the same weaknesses, the same triggers, the same reactions, the same pain. And then the cycle repeats. He has an entire 'tool bag' at this point; of what works best with whom. As long as we are being wounded, and growing up to act out our woundedness on others, along with developing twisted defense mechanisms that close us off to God – then he keeps the pain continuing – from one generation to the next. It is only when a generation finally says "enough!" and turns to God for healing – that that generation is able to avoid passing their wounds down to the next. The cycle is broken; and God's blessings are able to then flow forward. It is like a geyser unleashed.

I soon discovered that one of Satan's most effective tools – at least in my life – was regret. Regret was keeping me mired in the past – and missing out on what Jesus was doing right now. As proof that Satan has used the same 'tools' for all eternity, I soon realized that I had that in common with the disciples. In Mark 8:14-21, they had forgotten to bring bread when Jesus needed it. Obviously, they must have felt badly at their mistake because when he later told them to "beware of the leaven of the Pharisee's", they thought for sure he was, once again, talking about the mistake they had made. But He wasn't. He had moved on.

And I saw that the same tool Satan had used to keep the disciples from focusing on what Jesus had moved on to, is the one he uses to keep me from doing the same! I came to see that I spend so much time worrying about my many faults, and mistakes of the past, that I fail to realize that Jesus has in fact moved ON! And I haven't. I am missing His latest revelations, because I am still too caught up in the past. I need to give the past to HIM to work out the kinks from it – and seek to understand what He is doing NOW.

And one of the things He is doing now is showing us what really matters to Him in this world – and what doesn't. I was raised to believe that success was important, acquiring possessions was important, 'status' and 'importance in the community' was important. And yet once I stopped being waylaid by regret and started paying attention to Jesus, I realized that when Jesus came among us; He rejected our view of things. He never got even the least bit involved in it. 'Success' was not His version of what was important – suffering was. 'Being right' was equally unimportant – suffering silently with love was. In fact, He rejected almost all of our most basic premises! He simply made His own. To walk with Him, I had to do the same. I had to reject the premises of this world and instead own His. I had to open my eyes to see what He thought was important – and not what the world did.

Still not convinced? Well then consider Mel Gibson's great movie: The Passion of Christ.6 Who were the people that everyone looked up to, who were the 'coolest' – the ones everyone secretly wished they could be like?

The Pharisees.

Now; knowing what we now know, do we really wish we could be like them?

And what about wanting to be 'accepted' by the crowd? Isn't that what popularity is all about in our culture? What about in the Passion?

It seems to me that one day Jesus got the 'approval', 'acceptance', 'validation', 'acclaim' – heck – the downright worship of the crowd! A couple days later that same crowd called for his murder.

Now; knowing what we now know, do we really think the approval of human beings is all that great? Do we think it will last? So why do we fret over it so?

Well, one reason I know that I do is because of Satan's other very effective tool – envy. Envy is when you not only wish you had what another had – but you are so upset you don't – that you want to take it away from him! (Kind of like the whole concept behind the claims for government to 'take from the rich and give to the poor' that are so greatly encouraged in our nation today. Yes, there is the fairness issue – but how is it fair to take from someone else what is rightfully theirs? Wouldn't it be best to change hearts so that they themselves recognize their responsibility to share their blessings? In essence, wouldn't it be best to encourage FAITH? (although with that suggestion, most of the people advancing the 'take from the rich' argument just passed out.... But I digress...)

But envy does not originate with us; it comes from Satan – it's one of His most effective tools. That's why it seems to come so naturally to us. But one day it hit me, and I wrote this down:

"Learn to fear Envy. Learn to be horrified by jealousy. For those sins so blinded the Pharisees that they did not take note of the miracles occurring in front of their very eyes. Instead they were inflamed with anger and plotted the death of GOD. So too, I put to death the love and thoughts of God within myself when I give way to envy. God of the Universe adores ME – and what else does any creature have that can be better than that??!!!!

And the absolutely incredible thing is that the God of the Universe is jealous of anything that competes with my love for HIM. He is jealous for ME – a mere creature! And yet, He seeks the love of this pitiful creature like a jealous suitor.

This is profound if I can just hold onto it. God passionately seeks my love. Now what can compete with that, that I could ever be envious of?!!!"

And so perhaps Jesus' lack of concern with people's opinions of Him makes a little bit more sense. But it was not only people that Jesus interacted with. How did He handle the attacks of Satan? In the garden, Satan started asking Him questions, trying to make Him doubt His Father's mission. Did Jesus argue? Did He tell Satan how wrong he was? Did He scroll the internet for facts to prove him mistaken? No. He ignored him. He just kept praying, and looking to, the Father. Satan, with all his puny lies, was not even worth a glance.

So why do we entertain so many of his lies? Why do we argue with obstinate sinners and/or pagans? Why do we 'throw our pearls before swine?' Why do we feel it is up to us to convince them of God? Is GOD worried?

No.

And neither should we.

But what if they are not converted, I argue? I look at my own birth family with this heart cry. I see such pain in their lives, and it grieves me to no end. And then one day, I even made it more personal with God than that. What about the pain that I had suffered!

And so, during this time, there came a moment when I sensed God telling me that we would work to heal the broken parts of my life together. My immediate response took me by surprise: it was one of incredible anger. "WHY," I demanded, "did You not show up the FIRST time and PREVENT it??!!!" I stewed and stewed about it, until suddenly God showed me – and it was all crystal clear. The revelation left me speechless (which, as you know, is not exactly a common experience for me...).

The revelation was this: Without the pain I had gone through, my heart would still be asleep. I would be asleep to God. For a moment, I questioned this – would I? But in the next instant I realized that the answer was yes – because in my home there was no 'pointing to God'. Pain was God's path back through the confusion to Him. It was the way out of the bad situation that my parent's sin – lack of seeking God for healing – got me into. In fact, pain is how God redeems and heals. It's how He got us back. The Cross, and Pain, were the way to New Life. So it is with us. In a fallen world, pain is not the punishment; it's the ticket OUT. We take it personal like it is because of us; like it is meant to hurt us. When in reality, it is not about us. It is the price God lets be paid for our freedom. Once freed – He can show us that. That it was never AT us – It was AT God by our enemy. But when it went through us, then it became FOR us. God used Satan's pain, and made it our way back to Him. Praise God!

A Priest I later spoke with put it even more bluntly. I had gone to confession to confess the anger that I realized was in my heart at everything that had happened in my past. Expecting sympathy, I got truth instead. "There is evil in this world," he said, after listening to my whining account of all the ways I felt mistreated. Pointing to the cross, he looked at me and continued, "God's OWN SON was brutalized! This is NOT heaven, and, in this world you will face even greater crosses to come. For. You. Are. Not. Home. Yet!"

So, essentially this Priest's advice? Suck it up and get back out there – there is WORK to be done. With that, he had me confess my sins of today – the ones over which I had actual control; not some nebulous feelings of things long ago; things that were long since past. The message was clear. Move Forward. Today matters. Today. In that point on my journey to wellness – it was just what I needed to hear.

But that wasn't all I did. As I left the church that day, I noticed the Pieta Statute in the corner and I realized that I was looking at the ultimate suffering – watching and hearing helplessly as evil is done to one you love. It was then that I realized what I could do with those painful memories – and it was something that I could offer – it was my Acceptance. And so I offered up all the unanswered questions, the retribution, the anger, the shame, the hate – all the things that I thought I had a 'right' to. I simply accepted it all; all the abuse; all the pain. I envisioned myself placing it all in a 'not so tidy' package, and handing it to the Blessed Mother to give to her Son – as a sacrifice for my parents, my siblings and all their families.

And with that, I had a clear sense that it was Done.

_____________________

6 The Passion of the Christ. Dir. Mel Gibson. Perf. Jim Caviezel. Released by Icon Productions. 2004.
CHAPTER 40: "and forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us." (Luke 11:4)

This later had great significance for me when I heard the British preacher, Malcolm Smith (International Love Fellowship)7, talk about the bitterness and brooding we have over the pains that people inflict on us. When we refuse to forgive people, and let it go, then we – in the spiritual world – continue to bind them to us. God is limited, therefore, in how He can work. In other words, say an employer owed you money. Well a new employer cannot just walk in, cancel the debt owed you, and tell you to work for them now. That original employer must first pay up – and then release you. When we refuse to forgive, then we are like that original employer. God just can't free that person from the debt they owe us for their sins against us – that would violate our free will – and so He has a limited range of motion wherein He can work in their lives. We, however, can wipe clean that debt – and give God full range to work. We see that played out most beautifully in Scripture with St. Stephen. God could have never worked as powerfully in the life of Saul (later Paul); if Saul still owed Stephen a spiritual debt for consenting to his murder. When Stephen forgave all who killed him – including Saul – it released Saul so that God could work in his life. All that we have in Scripture, and in our faith, from the pen and preaching of Paul – we owe to one man (Stephen) who released Saul from the great debt of sin that Saul owed Stephen; hence enabling Saul to work for God.

So if our loved ones seem to remain mired in sin and evil – it could possibly be because we have refused to forgive – and hence, we have not released them to God.

Malcolm Smith gave advice on how best to do just that – release those who owe us debts. He said to sit down and write the name of every person who had ever hurt us. It sounded a little silly when I first heard it – I mean, really? But I figured I had done a lot more foolish things when I was still following the advice of the pagan world – and so what could it hurt? I got a notebook and started writing from as far back as I could remember. It took all day. I then, one by one, forgave each person, released them to God, and crossed off their name from my book. They were now in God's book. I think His book has a lot higher success rate, and happy endings, than mine anyway...

Doing that, freed ME up also, so that God could really begin to work in my own life. Shortly after this, He shared a secret with me. God showed me that when He gave up His Son for us, He chose to bring human suffering into His own heart. He did not need to ever experience it – and yet He did. And now He knows personally what it feels like. It was not just Jesus in His human nature who experienced such horrific pain and suffering – but God the Father did also. I can now turn to Him in my own suffering and He can understand my feelings. I point to the pain of those I love, and He understands. He has felt it too. It left me awestruck. How could someone love that much? How could someone deliberately bring suffering into His own heart so that He could truly understand what his children were going through?

I don't know the answer to that; but God does. And that is enough for me.

The one thing about feeling that someone understands your pain, is that you no longer feel so alone. That is why 'support groups' are so successful – you can walk through painful times in your life with others who are on the same path, and feeling the same things. You are no longer alone. Often, when you go through emotional healing, and drudging up so many of these memories, it can leave you feeling just that – alone. For instance, I remembered a time as a child that I had confided in an adult about the things going on in our house; and he had admonished me to not say such bad things about my parents! What an ungrateful child I was being!!

Alone.

And then there were all the memories of being a small child, hiding in my closet, wounded and hurting with no adult to turn to.

Alone.

And even now that these things were all coming back up again; when I turned to J.J., he had absolutely no frame of reference with which to understand – other than anger that it had happened to me. He had not experienced these things; and hence he had no idea what to do with it all. Through no fault of his, I was once again left feeling...

Alone.

That is, I was left feeling alone, until one day when Jesus brought something to my memory –

He was alone too.

How many times did Jesus tell his Disciples of His own impending torture and death? How many? And yet, each time, what did they do? Was there any – "Oh Jesus, let us comfort you, we are here for you, we will not let you fall, etc., etc." ? How about, "Oh Jesus, go ahead and tell us all about your fears, we'll listen, you can unload on us!"? No, it went more like: "Holy Cow! Stop talking like that! You're scaring us!!!"

Alone.

And when he was at Trial and desperately needed even just one of the hundreds of people he had helped and healed – not to mention his own Disciples – to speak up for him; he instead was left...

Alone.

And as He hung on a cross, spit at by the crowd, ridiculed by a lowly thief beside Him, and experiencing the total absence of His Father's presence; He most certainly must have felt...

Alone.

But now, since God is outside of Time – Jesus and I got to share the loneliness together. I had to admit, that that was pretty cool.

As I learned to walk with Him, spend time with Him, and just be with Him; I began to have more and more insight into my own life. For example, Jesus would just show me some of the things I had done wrong parenting as a means to have better understanding – and empathy – with my own parents. For instance, he showed me times when I had been short tempered, tired, irritated, and impatient. During those times, my parenting had been less than ideal. And yet during those times – also – I never stopped loving my children. If someone had come in and tried to hurt any of my children – no matter how irritated, tired or mad I had been – I would have fought to the death to protect them. So too, my parents. Although their actions may not have seemed loving – it didn't mean that they had stopped loving me. It just meant that they were very lacking themselves. That realization helped quite a bit. Nobody wants to think their parents don't love them.

Also while going through the Living Waters class, we did a lot of Identity work. The first step of that was to acknowledge what we put our 'identity' in. As a Christian, it should be Christ. Because of Jesus' sacrifice which enabled Him to purchase me back from evil (i.e. get me out of the orphanage); I am now a child of God. That is my true identity – I am God's daughter. Direct Descendant. Full Heir.

Pretty cool, eh? How's THAT for 'connections' or 'name dropping'?

Unfortunately for me however, I had somehow never figured that out. Instead, I had decided that my identity was as a 'daughter' to my parents, as a 'sister' to my siblings, as a 'mother' to my children, as an 'attorney' to the public, and as a 'wife' to J.J.. No relation to God anywhere in those identities – instead, I was tied directly to other flawed humans. Since I sought my sense of self in those things – instead of Christ – when I failed at any one of them, it went to my heart. I had failed in the core thing with which I identified myself! I was, hence, a failure.

But when I put my identity in Christ, then I realized that those other things were just parts of what I 'did' – not 'who' I was. I am, in actuality, a very flawed human – but that's not the part that mattered, what mattered was that I am nonetheless a child of God. Toddlers don't walk that well, and they make big messes wherever they go. Are they, therefore, failures? Of course not, they are our children, and we love them. Who in the world would think that 'not walking well' or 'making messes' would define their net worth? Or even that they should somehow come out of the womb walking, and never make a mess? It's natural – they're clumsy toddlers; just like we are flawed humans. In fact, those two words – flawed and human – actually go together as a set. Jesus is the only perfect one. If I am a human – then I am flawed. That is not shocking – so why does it shock me? Every time I do something stupid, every time I make a mistake, anytime I am – well – human – I am totally and completely mortified! Oh my gosh! I made a mistake!! What in the world is wrong with me?! All this time I thought I was a human – and instead – I am FLAWED!!!

Am I the only one who remains flummoxed over this? I wouldn't think so, based on the current American disease of "Judging The World'. It goes like this:

"Oh my GOSH! Those politicians just did something stupid! We are shocked! And here we thought all along that they were HUMANS!" or, "Oh my GOSH! My friend just made a mistake! I am shocked! And here I thought all along that she was HUMAN!" or, "Oh my GOSH! My husband was just unloving to me! I am shocked! And here I thought all along that he was HUMAN!".... or fill in your own 'shocker' here:

Get it? If we are HUMAN, then we are FLAWED. They actually go together. Kind of like a horse and buggy; peanut butter and jelly; rain and clouds; husbands and golf. (Ok, that last one may only go together in my house – but you get the picture...)

The only reason we can explain our tendency to be shocked at our, or others, human flaws is this: PRIDE. Since Adam and Eve, we have been actively swallowing the line that we can be like God. In fact, we downright think we ARE God – and it shows when we are mortified at our mistakes. For if we REALLY did not think we were God; then we would not be the least bit surprised at our – or others – mistakes. Since only GOD does not make mistakes. He alone is perfect. Not us; but HIM.

Shocker, ain't it?

This ties into the other shocker; and it involves confidently using the "yeah, I may not be so great – but look at (fill in the blank with whoever you see screwing up)!" defense. I tried that one. It doesn't work.

Jesus looks at each one of us. He's a very personal guy, and He takes our Free Will very, very seriously. In essence, he treats us as the adults we are always whining we want to be! Nobody else really comes into you and His equation.

The first time I realized this was when I was trying to write Colby's college essay for him (yes, I am one of those parents...). We had to get on the road to a friend's Navy Awards Ceremony and I was trying desperately to get the essay done before we got on the road. In frustration, I sent up a quick prayer for Jesus' help. Clear as a bell; it came back to me:

"But it is not yours to write."

(Guess that answers the question as to which parenting methods God approves of...) But really; I didn't actually get any sense that He thought what I was doing was 'wrong' – He was just stating a fact. He was not about to help me in something that really was not part of my duty; not a part of His will for me to accomplish in this world.

I began to discover that Jesus is a fairly factual person. Ask Him a question, and you will get a straightforward answer. Kind of like my husband. One day I came home from class gushing about all the new things I had discovered; how I had learned one thing growing up and now I realized something else and therefore it impacted me in this way, and on and on and on. Finally, after stopping to take a (very short) breath, I looked at him and asked if he understood what I was saying. "No," he replied, "but I'm glad you're happy."

J.J. 'Factual' James.

But in all seriousness, Jesus is a lot like him. Take the time I was driving home after a Theophostic prayer training session. A memory came to me of feeling badly because I was not doing something the way my parents wanted, and they were criticizing me and treating me like I was an idiot. I explained to him that they were upset because I didn't do it 'right'.

"They didn't do it right, either," he explained, "they just did it their way. I am the only one who does things 'right'."

I then realized that just because they thought it wasn't 'right', didn't make me stupid – it just meant I didn't do it their way. Big difference.

Now that I realized I was no longer alone; I began to get in the habit of talking to Jesus, and of asking Him questions. And He would answer me. When I asked why I would do things, I'd get back comments like, "You're tired." or "You're showing selfishness." or "This is because of pain from the past." and on, and on, and on. Now these answers were not booming words from the sky – I am not Abraham. Nor did they come from a burning bush – I am not Moses. They were simple factual responses that came into my brain immediately after asking something.

And then one day when I was moaning yet again about ways the woundedness of my youth had made me 'different' from many other adults, Jesus showed me something. He pointed out that He shows up bearing scars. When He saw the Disciples, what did He hold out to them; but His scars! That's how they knew it was really HIM. These were scars obtained through beatings and punishment – and He was never even actually guilty of anything! If Jesus takes pride in showing off his scars, and if they define HIM, then why wouldn't my scars define me? My failures, and my shortcomings – why wouldn't I wish to show them off; to show how they have been redeemed? It was an amazing thought! Here the very things we try to hide from our past – are the things that Jesus shows off! If GOD does not mind being humble enough to show His wounds – why in the world would I think I am somehow better than that?

This is a very good question; and one that I have to continually ask myself each and every day.

_____________________

7 Smith, Malcolm. "The Search for Self-Worth" 1991, Charlotte, NC. Bandera TX.: Unconditional Love, Int'l. 1991. DVD.
CHAPTER 41: your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, "This is the way. Walk in it." (Isaiah 30:21)

Meanwhile, all the really important questions that you would think I would get answers to – I didn't. Questions like – 'what in the world should I do now to make money?' I guess maybe those questions fell under the 'free will' category. If the God of the Universe said, "Genovi, YOU should be a teacher!" then I guess there's not a whole lot of 'my decision and free will' in that; is there? Instead, He kept sending me hints. And not just me.

We drove up one weekend to Franciscan so that Jessica could check out, once again, the Master's Program. The main problem she had was money. She was used to a fairly independent lifestyle (read- she had plenty of money to buy whatever she wanted), and was worried about giving it up. While at Franciscan, she met with the Director of Graduate Studies. On the spot, he offered her a job working for him directly if she went to Franciscan. All the skills she had learned in her various jobs up till then were things he needed in his office – even, believe it or not – what the best movies were. (Who knew?) He needed someone to set up and run a program for the Graduate Students that would find fun things for them to do – and give them a sense of community. Well, Jessica was HIS GIRL if he was talking about finding fun things to do!

Guess that solved her 'independent lifestyle' problem. She decided to attend Franciscan. Now we just prayed that she didn't get sent to jail. (Things are never quite as easy as they seem...).

Meanwhile, I had begun substitute teaching as a way to make a little extra cash while getting Colby and everybody settled in. One after another, little 'hints' about teaching began to pop up. For starters, all the teachers where I worked kept telling me what a 'natural' I was; and wondered if I had taught before? Then it seemed like every other devotional I read was about God using someone to teach something about Him. And of course, I discovered that I absolutely loved being able to pour love and affirmation into these very young children. Lastly, I ran into a person who was in a 'Teacher Training program'. She explained that a 'Teacher Training program' was for people who had had careers in other areas for at least 5 years who wanted to begin to teach. It lasted a semester long, with follow up classes for a year while you student taught and got more hands-on experience. And the clincher? It cost $4,000. As opposed to the $40,000 that a Library Sciences Master would eventually run me. This was pretty much what you call a 'no brainer'.

In essence, I could have a reptile brain and still figure this one out. And God just smiled – because it left me with my own Free Will.

Win / Win.
CHAPTER 42: "Behold, how great a love the Father has bestowed on us, that we should be called children of God!" (1 John 3:1)

But back to this concept of being the child of God. It kind of becomes the fault line to every other idea in my pea-brain skull. For instance, I have always expected that bad things would come of everything in my life. I would examine everything I did in order to try to prevent it from being a disaster – and then if it nonetheless was – I was never surprised. "Murphy's Law' was my own personal 'bible'. In fact, I always kind of considered it prideful if I didn't expect ruinous ends. I mean, if I thought that everything that happened to me should lead to goodness and light – well, think about it, if you had somebody around you always proclaiming that belief – wouldn't you think they were just a tad bit too high handed – or delusional?

"Yes, I am soooo happy to be the daughter of God and to know that He is making absolutely EVERYTHING in my life just PERFECT!!!"

I mean, really, be honest – wouldn't that person begin to get on your nerves just a little?!?

But one day it just kind of hit me. Is it really prideful to expect good things in life? Well, if your real father is GOD, and if GOD controls the universe (news flash: He does), then why wouldn't you think He would make all things work out good for you? Yes, free will (ours and others) may very well make things rocky for quite some time – but ultimately, God will bring it all to good! And is that really pride to think that? I mean, are my children being prideful when they expect me to do good things for them – to be good to them? When they get into messes, is it prideful for them to turn to J.J. or I and think – "I'll go to Dad or Mom, they will help me out of this!" Wouldn't we think it pretty odd if they thought we would only do bad things to them? So where do these crazy thoughts about God come from? Sadly, they come from the woundedness that the adults in our lives have had triggered – and then taken out on – us. We learn to believe only bad will happen. And when we do, then Satan is well pleased – since every adult in our small lives comes, in our adult lives, to be unconsciously associated with God – our True Father.

But this also left me wondering. Where do you go when the entire structure upon which you have built your life is a lie? If you have been raised without a belief in the Spiritual; or if you have been raised in an abusive environment – or even just one where parents are overworked, overtaxed, overtired, over-everything – and have little ability to love you – then where do you go to learn the truth? This is no rhetorical question that solely concerns me either – for as our culture descends further and further into the denial of Truth that marks every aspect of our lives these days – we will all at some point or another, began asking ourselves the same question.

When you are young (or even an adult and choosing to remain blinded), you grow up believing the lie. The 'lie' is this – that my family (or culture) is normal – even though they/it does things that hurt others; that my family (or culture) is 'good' – even though it lives comfortably with sin. In my own life, I was able to live that lie for a long time. When I left my family for college, and then married life; I was able to create an alternate happy and 'normal' family. One that did not, in truth, exist. As long as I stayed far from them, then the lie could exist in my brain quite peaceably. But then we moved back to Connecticut. The move back brought me in close proximity to them – and to the truth. Once that happened, then the fantasy in my brain no longer squared with the reality in front of me. By then, I had been in a close walk with the Lord, and I had poured His Word into my heart. This, of course, illuminated the truth. So when I went to family gatherings and people were yelling in anger at each other – but claiming to be only 'having a debate' – my spirit was torn asunder by the truth resonating inside me that anger is anger. It is not a 'debate'. And when I spent time among them and listened to critical hateful gossip, with cruel words that were just as easily thrown at me – my spirit knew that gossip and hate went together. And neither walked on the same path with God. And that none of it was normal. And on, and on, and on. I could no longer accept the lie, yet my very safety – the wall I had built inside – depended upon it. After all, this was my family. I did not have another. This was the only reality I knew, and I was discovering it was a wounded one.

But even as an adult, somewhere in the back of your mind you still cling to the hope that maybe, just maybe, if you do everything right – then it will be the family it is supposed to be. It will be a family that is whole enough – to love you. And without even realizing it, you continue in the belief that God is the same way. For if your own family can't stomach you, when we all know that love comes 'naturally' to them – then how can God? And the lie ultimately comes down to this: if I just work as hard as I possibly can, then maybe, just maybe, I can earn love.

But God would not let me continue to live this lie – hence my internal meltdown, so to speak. My ulcer, my digestive problems, the anguish in my very soul – all sought to wake me up to the reality that the entire structure of what was 'normal' upon which I had built my life was a lie. As that false façade began to fall – so did I. For who are you if what you've always thought you were – is a lie? From what do you get your bearings if the very markers upon which your world are centered – are wrong? For I had believed that my mother and my father were right about everything – after all, they were the adults in my life. They were the ones who interpreted the world for me. And yet, here I was, looking at them with eyes of faith and seeing that they were nothing more than wounded, hurting children trying desperately to keep themselves safe. Because they were my parents, I had thought that the way they acted toward me was the way of love. I now saw, that it was the way of self-preservation. What I thought was love; was not. And if I could be so wrong, so deceived, about something as important and as real as my own family – then what could I trust?

I had to admit that there was – nothing. Nothing except Christ; nothing except God. He is the North Star, the Plumb Line, the Lighthouse shining truth into all things and showing us the way. Only when Christ is your center, is your world right – only then is your equilibrium intact. For when I listened to Him, I learned for the first time, the Real Way of Love. I learned that God loves – not because of what I can do for Him; but because He IS love. What I bring to the relationship is immaterial. As a mother cherishes her infant; even though that child does absolutely nothing to help her, and in fact makes her life so much more difficult – so too God loves us simply because we are His.

We need to walk with Him and only Him, in order to see this, and all other, Truth. Families can lie, parents can lie, spouses can lie – every single thing in this world can lie – but only Jesus can show us Truth.

I can only pray that as our culture falls deeper and deeper into the lie of our world today – good is evil; and evil is good – more and more of us can use that same North Star, that same Plumb Line, that same Lighthouse – to show us the truth. Surely we see the signs of that same internal anguish – the broken homes, lives and bodies; the busy-ness of constant activity; the feeling of exhaustion with no real purpose to show for it – all these things begin to wake us up to the reality that this world has been lying to us. It has been trying to make us think that THIS is all there is – that THIS is normal, that THIS is most important; and that it is absolutely essential we work as hard as possible in order to 'earn' it now – before it's too late...

Instead, we need to remember what prior generations – who knew and walked with God – took as common sense: this is simply the waiting room. We wait here, we do God's will, and we look forward to Him coming to take us home.

Truth; now that's a concept we can all get behind!
CHAPTER 43: "Go through, go through the gates! Prepare the way of the people! Cast up, cast up the highway" (Isaiah 62:10)

Meanwhile, life went on in the James household.

Jessica's court hearing was fast approaching; and we had all been praying like crazy that she have no jail time. There were 19 different Prosecutor's at work in this courthouse and most were pretty much 'hardline'. (This was the same court that sentenced a woman to 2 years in jail for throwing a cup of coffee at another car during a traffic stop – and so you see that our fears were not exactly 'unfounded'!). J.J., Jessica and I waited while her attorney went to see who had been assigned her case. He came back with a smile the size of the sun – the prosecutor assigned to her case that day was the son of his law partner! Although the deal they worked out meant that Jessica would lose her license for a year – her attorney encouraged her to take it and run! She wanted to wait and come back right before she had to leave for FUS so that she could continue to drive the next couple months – but that meant she'd be taking her chances all over again concerning the prosecutor (and jail time!); and so we all convinced her she was crazy. We won out – Praise God!

And then came the marathon race. Earlier in the year, Jessica had signed up for a relay marathon race in Pittsburg with a bunch of Moms from her Youth Group. Well, she decided later that she actually wanted to run a half marathon – yet was part of this relay team and couldn't drop out and leave an open slot. Her solution? "Mom will do it, she does anything we ask!"

Even, apparently, if it's insane...

For that's what it seemed to me the closer I got to it. 7 mile relay – WHAT was I thinking?!!!! But then I would just as quickly assure myself – "Hey! It's just a run – how hard could it get?"

Remember the conversation I had earlier about learning not to ask that question? Apparently I hadn't yet learned...

It turns out that the same weekend of the Pittsburg marathon, was check out time at Rachel's college. "No big deal," I thought, "I'll just pack her out, drive to Pittsburg and meet the relay team at the hotel the day before."

In anyone else's life; that would be a perfect plan. But, I keep forgetting that this is MY life. I drove up to FUS with Jessica, Sarah and the minivan. We spent all day Friday packing Rachel out, and the back of the minivan could not even fit a toothpick in it by the time we drove away. On the highway, enroute to Pittsburg, I asked Jessica if she heard an odd noise – it seemed to be coming from the tires?

"Well, we are on a bridge, I'm sure that must be it," she said.

Right before the front tire blew.

Grabbing control of the minivan before it spun off the road was actually not the biggest problem. The biggest problem was this: how in the world do I change a tire when an entire girl's dorm room is sitting on top of it in the back of the car? The answer was: I don't.

I called a tow truck. Then, doing the mental math, I called a taxicab. There was no way all 4 of us were going to fit into the cab of a tow truck. They both arrived on this desolate stretch of highway at the same time. I sent the girls off in the cab to the hotel to check in for the marathon; and I left with the tow truck guy to get a new tire. Hours later, I finally made it to the hotel. The hotel staff gave me the wrong key. After dragging all our luggage to the far side of the hotel to discover someone else was in the room I was supposed to be in; I dragged it back. The staff at the counter was so very apologetic. I just assured them that this was pretty much the day I was having – so it was obviously not their fault!

However, I by now had a plan. Since I had missed the marathon informational meeting; I realized that meant I couldn't run in the marathon! TOUCHDOWN!! Rachel, Sarah and I could have a leisurely wake up, get breakfast, and then go watch Jessica knock herself out. And I didn't have to do anything!

Win / Win!

I congratulated myself on my newfound freedom – right up until the knock came on the door and the rest of the relay team walked in – holding all the stuff I needed to run.

"Curses, foiled again!"

It wasn't until later that I discovered that our little relay team (Me, Tammy, Rhonda and Leslie) was quite the conversation among the Youth Group Ministers, Jacob and Mark. For you see, they were pretty much recent college graduates; and we were all mothers of the youths in their charge. To put it more bluntly – they were young, and we were old. Earlier in the year, lots of young people had signed up to run in the race, but one by one they had dropped out as time went by. As Jacob and Mark told Jessica the night before the race, "yeah, but the people who we NEVER thought would hang in there and run the race – are still running!" (That is, us old ladies...) I guess we were not your usual marathon runners. We had been roped into running it by other people, and were too afraid to 'hurt the group' by dropping out (although we each desperately wanted to!). It was not exactly on our 'top ten' list of things to do. Tammy, Rhonda and I had at least made a halfhearted effort to 'train' by running several miles over the months before. Leslie pretty much trained by running to her mailbox – and back. We had no high hopes of coming in first place.

I however, thought that maybe Jacob did. He had run many marathons and was all excited about this one. The morning of the race, I asked him if he thought he had a chance to win it. He looked at me in shock, and said, "Are you kidding me?! I'm not even PART Ethiopian!!"

Since that comment left me confused, he explained that the real runners were often from Africa, and were among the fastest people on earth. He was just some regular guy who did it for fun. They were running for the money. I didn't say anything, but his comment still left me confused – as to how anybody could describe running a marathon as 'fun'. But I digress.

The morning of the race found me getting up at 4am so that we could head over in plenty of time to make the start off. Tammy was running the first section, I was second, Rhonda was third and Leslie finished it off. Tammy and I had the longest sections – about 7 miles each. As we drove in from our hotel, we chatted about everything except the run. It seemed to take us forever to get into the city via the back roads we were on. Suddenly, out of the blue Leslie piped in from the back – "Hey, do you guys know that we haven't even driven the distance yet – that you will have to run today?!!" Tammy and I both instantly turned around and shouted, "Shut up Leslie!!!!"

And so began my morning.

We finally made it into the city and joined the ever-growing crowds of runners. I noted from the start that there was a little bit of a difference between the others and us. They were practically naked. I mean, they had skintight running clothes (to avoid the wind drag slowing them down, I guess) and running shoes. That was it.

And then there was me.

I was not about to run a marathon unprepared! I had my sweat pants, my tee shirt, my sweater and my rain jacket – in case of rain. I had my 'fanny-pack' to carry all of my stuff. In it I put several things; including my cell phone, my camera, my credit card, my ID, my debit card, my books on CD and of course – my lipstick! All the essentials. I carried my Walkman with my first CD already loaded inside. Then there were my sunglasses, and my hat. I had pretty much gotten my life stripped down to the bare minimum for this marathon.

The raincoat was essential for one reason – I was terrified it would rain. The whole time I was training, I kept praying for one thing – no rain. Somehow the thought of running 7 miles in the rain was just one image I couldn't bear. Heading up there that weekend, the forecast was for rain. I kept praying. There was no rain the whole time we packed out Rachel. There was no rain when the tire blew out. There was no rain that morning. I was so amazed that God was holding off the rain – just for me!

I took the shuttle bus to the first relay point –and waited for Tammy to come into view. I waited, and waited, and waited. Jessica ran by early in the pack waving excitedly. But then the crowds of runners began to peter out; and pretty soon the waiting relay runners thinned down to the people who were not exactly planning on winning this marathon – which included me.

And then – there she was! I saw Tammy way down the road, and started waving like crazy. I was holding the medal that she was supposed to get, as soon as we 'passed the relay torch'. Finally she ran up. I excitedly handed her the medal and jumped into the street to begin my leg. As my first footfall landed on the road, I felt: drip, drop, drip.

It was starting to rain.

Yes, God heard my prayer all right. But I think He had a bigger purpose in mind; it was to show me that sometimes the things we fear the most are...

No. Big. Deal.

Fortunately, I had my raincoat! I put it on and forged ahead. I must admit the run was pretty cool. The streets were all closed down, and since I was among (if not THE) last of the runners – I had those streets all to myself. I stopped as each new view came into sight – pulled out my camera – and took pictures. Isn't that what every marathon runner does? It was actually quite beautiful in the rain; the city shone. Absolutely everything was going great; my book on CD was very interesting, I was getting some great pictures, and I was seeing great parts of the city. Yup; everything was great.

Until I got lost.

Let me first say – it was not my fault. I had not been at the marathon informational meeting the evening before. I was in a truck stop getting my blown tire replaced. Therefore, I had NOT seen the map of the course; nor gotten any instructions on what the cryptic signs meant. By the time I was coming down the pike – I was also pretty much all alone. No hordes to follow.

I took a wrong turn. Nonetheless, I was pretty content in my ignorance. Aren't we all? I kept running, taking pictures, listening to my book on CD. After what seemed forever, I began to see people up ahead. As I got closer, by-standers would see me and begin to cheer. Suddenly, I was pretty impressed with my running – if they were, then heck, I could be too!

Next thing I knew, I turned a corner and was coming into the home stretch! Right alongside the Ethiopians.

I had somehow taken a shortcut and I was now finishing – with the Ethiopians. They were running hard, muscled bodies completely covered in sweat. I was jogging along; snapping pictures. I have a feeling that something just didn't really look right. Later, I discovered that Mark was among the crowd waiting for the runners. He was just killing time since he knew it would be at least another hour or two before anyone from the Youth Group showed up. Suddenly, he looked up just as I was running by. He said, "That is Genovi James. But. That. Is. Just. Not. Possible!"

He was thinking that not only did these old ladies NOT drop out of the race – but also they each just ran a 4-minute mile!!!

As I crossed the finish line, light bulbs were flashing. Volunteers ran up and put some weird looking aluminum foil blanket around me – supposedly to keep me from going into shock. It was kind of bulky – what with the rain coat, sweater, fanny pack and all. But I thanked them politely, and asked where the next relay people were – I needed to get my medal from Rhonda and let her start running. Everyone I asked gave me a blank stare.

It was pretty much like a bad Monty Python movie – or does that make for a good Monty Python movie?

I still had no clue that I was in the wrong place; but I must admit that I was beginning to suspect that something was just not right. Someone finally told me that I was at the actual finish line – the relay point was miles away. They suggested that perhaps I could run back. I suggested (under my breath) that they see a psychiatrist – since they were obviously insane. Fortunately however, since I had my fanny pack, I pulled out my cell phone and called Rachel – who was still standing on a street corner somewhere in Pittsburgh wondering when in the world I would ever get there! She handed the phone to Rhonda, Rhonda told the official that I was lost, and the official said, "Just RUN!" Rhonda threw the phone back at Rachel and took off.

As I waited for everyone to get back to the finish line, I realized that my hips were beginning to kill me. Opening my fanny pack, I took out my water bottle and my bottle of Motrin – and swallowed down a handful.

It's good to be prepared.
CHAPTER 44: "Whoever doesn't receive you, nor hear your words, as you go out of that house or that city, shake off the dust from your feet." (Matthew 10:14)

It was shortly after this that I had yet another reminder that leaving Connecticut had been a good decision. I was at a prayer conference and met a woman who had been a missionary in Europe with her husband. They then moved to Connecticut. She said that after living there for a year, she remarked to her husband that spiritually, it all seemed to be growing 'darker'. They were seeking to buy a home, and found one that was just what they were looking for. As they walked around looking at it, she suddenly, out of the blue began weeping. She had no explanation why, since she was not a person who ever 'weeps' over things. She told me, however, that each time she thought of actually buying a house in Connecticut and remaining there – she would begin to weep. Finally, she told her husband that they just had to leave. She couldn't explain why, but she knew they had to get out. They moved to Kentucky and she is now a mediator in the Court system there. A 'faith friendly' part of the country –she says they love it.

That once again left me in a quandary – what do I do? Do I tell everyone I care about back there to flee? Do I lecture them, try to open their eyes to the evil around them, get them to begin to wake up? I know that my own questioning had started shortly after the Tsunami in Asia on December 26, 2004. Over 230,000 people died from that Tsunami. I remember hearing about it while still living in Connecticut and having a thought suddenly come to me. If I had been raising my family on one of those Asian coastlines – and someone came and told me that a huge Tsunami was coming, and we would all be killed – well would I stay there? Of course not; I would flee as soon as humanly possible. That one thought – added to all the other things going on – was the impetus I needed to begin to act.

But how in the world do I convince others that the sinfulness around them is like a giant Tsunami just waiting to crush them all? How do I talk sense into them?!! For I had tried that once before, while still living in Connecticut. I had joined a civil rights committee of the Bar Association after hearing that there were people in the state who were trying to push 'gay marriage' onto the voters. The first meeting I went to, one of the main attorneys who was involved in human rights issues showed up; long enough to quit. She had become involved in this committee because her deep religious faith prodded her to become an activist for the marginalized around the world. However, now she was completely and totally mortified that this committee was advocating codifying sin into the marriage code. The group had been working together for years, and was very sad to see her go – but it was obvious that they had taken a hard line on this subject, and were not open to any debate. They decided at this meeting to have an 'instructional seminar' on the subject of 'gay marriage'.

There was one other attorney on the committee who was an actual Christian trying to follow the truth of the Gospel. He and I soon discovered that we were grossly outnumbered. Every speaker that the majority put forward for the seminar was voted in. Every effective speaker that we put forward, to give the negatives of 'gay marriage' was voted down. Only those that the committee felt were 'tolerant' enough were allowed to speak. It was always done with calm explanations of how they had to 'protect' gay people from hearing 'negative' things about homosexuality and suffering 'emotional abuse' because of it. They were simply trying to be kind – right?

But then came the day when their real faces came out. I was alone at this meeting; the other Christian attorney could not make it. Everyone was there, happily addressing all the pro-gay marriage speakers and topics that would be presented. I had been on the committee for a couple years by then; and we all were fairly civil – and professional – with each other. Therefore, when there was a break in their happy planning, I decided to quietly introduce my own concerns. I said, "Well, I would really like the seminar to also address the effect of gay marriage on religious liberties and parental rights."

You would think that I had just thrown gasoline on a bonfire.

Suddenly, these 'Professionals' (among them lawyers, college professors and Judges) began screaming and cursing. Shouts of "f------ that!" "We will not allow those f------ topics in our seminar!" and "there is no f-------- way!!!" broke out. Even I was pretty surprised. The Chairman of the committee suddenly took control and began shouting for everyone to calm down. I just sat there quietly, waiting for them to get a hold of themselves. One member of the committee was fairly shocked. A well-known lesbian, and one of the leaders in the push for 'gay rights' in the state, she and I had worked together on a case, and were good acquaintances. She knew that I was not someone who was 'intolerant' of gays – for I was one of the few attorneys who treated her with the same affection and friendship that I would have for any other friend. (I was, after all, a follower of Christ – that's what He expects us to do.) She was now mortified to see, and hear, the things that her peers were doing and saying to me. I just waited patiently for things to calm down.

The Chairman of the committee finally obtained order and continued on. She noted that perhaps these topics were a little too 'explosive' (to them) to be included in the seminar (!). As she spoke, I watched the other attorneys who had become the most violent in their expression. One by one, they slowly began blinking and shaking their heads – as though they were coming out of something. After a few minutes, the most vocal woman interrupted and said she wanted to apologize. "I am so sorry for how I just acted!" she said, "I have no idea what just came over me!!"

I, however, had every idea of what had just come over her. St. Paul told us about it 2,000 years ago:

"For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms." Ephesians 6:12

It was now crystal clear to me what 'authority' was behind the push for 'gay marriage' – and it wasn't exactly a good one... In fact, it was the same old enemy using the same old tactics of woundedness to keep us enmeshed in pain and sin. If he can get sin codified into law, then there's NO way people will ever seek healing – and freedom.

Nonetheless, after a few months more of similar frustration, it became apparent to me that this committee was planning on trying to steamroll 'gay marriage' through the legislation and onto the people. At one meeting, the leaders of the movement noted that the state was dealing with very serious issues – a terrible deficit, a scandalous governor, and a whole host of other problems.

"Now's the TIME!" one of them noted, "if we get this legislation drawn up and begun, then the voters will not be paying attention – and we can definitely get it through without anyone noticing!!"

This was agreed to be a good plan; however, I was the 'wet blanket' that made the suggestion that perhaps, in a representative form of government, getting things through 'without anyone noticing' was not exactly what the Founders had planned; and, as attorneys and representatives of the Legal System – perhaps not something we should be advocating.

Just a thought.

The members, however, would just take those opportunities to instruct me on how 'ignorant' the average voter (and person) was. Truly, they explained, the public was like children who needed to be told what to do – and fortunately these wise members of the Committee intended to do just that – rescue everyone (except themselves of course) from their ignorant, bigoted, stupid selves.

How nice of them!!!

Eventually though, I had to admit that there was really not much I could do on this committee. They simply ignored me and went on with their own agenda. The meetings were over an hour's drive away – and I had a family to care for, and a law practice to run. I surely had no desire to waste my time – and so I left. But it had shown me the true face of this 'agenda', and the realities that it is, based once again in Pride, woundedness, and of course, Baal.

After taking it to prayer, I realized that when I spend time considering how sinful the world is becoming – it does nothing but keep me agitated in my soul. When agitated, I lose the peace of God. I need to remember that Satan is DEFEATED, and that I must live with that supreme confidence.

I need to let God fight. My job is just to love. End of story –

END OF STORY!

For after all, St. Paul did not try to change the government, he changed hearts; one at a time. The disciples did not pass laws, they shook the dirt from their shoes as they moved on and left those people to God. We are on our way HOME. This is not our world. We just need to love the people that God places in our way on our road home. Sometimes, it seems that the only way you can really love them is to pray for them – but then again, that is, after all, the most powerful thing we can do!
CHAPTER 45: "The fear of man proves to be a snare, but whoever puts his trust in Yahweh is kept safe. (Proverbs 29:25)

Fortunately, this was all behind me that summer of 2009 as I began working on the things needed to enter the Teacher Training class in the fall. I had to take a test, the Praxis, which showed you had enough knowledge about a subject to teach. We also had to survive the NCAA gauntlet – for it truly was a gauntlet.

J.J. had taken Colby to his 'orientation' as a transfer student, and it was during that meeting that the bombshell was dropped. Colby was disqualified from playing golf for one year. What?! He only had a couple years left – and the whole reason he was transferring was to play golf! But it turns out that since he had taken classes at a community college between the two schools – he was somehow disqualified.

This falls under the 'just so' rules of the NCAA. There was a chance for a waiver, however, if we could just show the circumstances of the situation. So began our summer of writing statements, responses and appeals. Just when we thought we had proven our point – they would come back with another issue, and we'd be up half the night gathering the evidence to – once again – show them that Colby qualified as one who could play.

This lasted all summer. It was also a summer that saw Jessica preparing for Graduate school in the fall, and Sarah going off to France.

As in Paris.

Sarah loved all things French. She took French in school, and really, really, really wanted to go there. Her French teacher got me in touch with a travel agency that places students into foreign homes over the summer. They see the sights, and also get tutored with additional French lessons while over there. When I first heard about it, in the winter, it had seemed like a wonderful idea to me – she would LOVE it!

As we packed for her month long trip, it still seemed like a good idea to me – she would LOVE it! In fact, there was a whole lot of 'love' about this trip up until the time we actually were on it. Then there was not much love to go around.

Because J.J. is a pilot, we get to fly standby on flights for very, very low costs. However, you cannot always count on standby flights; and so we have learned to work around it. Since Sarah was due to meet up with this group at a certain time and place – we could not really chance on her not making the flight over there. Plus, I simply could not just stick her on a flight as a sophomore in High School – and feel good about that. I wanted to see where she was actually going, and make sure it was safe. This was also the same summer that the movie "Taken"8 came out – so you know why my fears were inflated... So essentially, I decided to fly over a couple days ahead of time, check the place out, leave her safe and sound with her new family – and fly back. Thankfully, at the last minute I asked Jessica if she wanted to go along. It was the smartest thing I ever did!

The details of the trip itself are simply too long to go into; but suffice it to say – it was the trip from hell. Driving a rental car on the highways of France, no one speaking any English, everyone being rude, hotel rooms being awful, the group she is with being impossible to get a hold of – and on and on and on. I was so stressed out with keeping it all together that my span of focus was, oh say, the 30 seconds occurring right that moment. This was not a reflection and far-planning event. It was survival.

Finally, all was done. Sarah was safely with her host family, the rental car was safely returned, Jessica and I were safely at the hotel awaiting our crack of dawn flight the next morning – and then it hit me.

I was leaving my baby with total strangers in a far away foreign (and decidedly unfriendly) nation. Hadn't I recently seen the movie 'Taken'? How did I know I would ever see my baby again?!!! This wonderful idea – now that it was here – was no longer wonderful; and I most assuredly no longer loved it.

I had a meltdown.

I basically sat in a corner and sobbed. There was no way I could leave her! I don't think that Jessica had ever seen me like this before – I don't have a tendency to sit down and sob very often... as in ever that she had seen. She practically had to shake me, slap me, and tell me to pull myself together! But I couldn't. I was beside myself.

I finally resolved, and told Jessica, that I would call Sarah in the morning at her new host family. If she sounded the least bit hesitant about staying, then that was it – we were renting a new car and going and getting her and bringing her home! That was the only way I could finally fall asleep.

I woke up early and waited until it was a reasonable time to call. I couldn't get through. I kept trying. No luck. Finally, I just called the hotel staff and asked them to call. They said they would and once they made the connection – they would call me back.

A few minutes later, they called to apologize. Apparently every single phone line in the hotel had gone down. They had no idea what happened, as it had never happened to them before. They were putting in a service call, and would let me know when it was fixed.

But I didn't have time for that – I had a flight to catch. I vowed that I would call from the airport – same deal. If she was upset – we were going and getting her. If not, then I just needed to pull myself together and let my baby grow up.

We got to the airport. Every phone I tried to use was – you guessed it – suddenly not working. I was beside myself. Fortunately Jessica had a cooler head, and just kept dragging me along. I was a mess. As I checked in, I began telling the gate agent that I was leaving my daughter in France – and began to cry. I told her how worried I was to be leaving her, etc., etc. The gate agent was very kind, and went out of her way to assure me that Sarah would be fine – and would absolutely love her time there! She also said that, if she were me, she'd get on the plane. To top it all off – she then booted us up to 2 vacant first class seats. Now Jessica was really anxious to get me on the flight! Try as I might, I could not get the telephones to work; and so, with a heavy heart, I got on the plane and left. We were going to Chicago, because when you fly standby the idea is to at least get back into your own country somehow. It is easier to find your way home from there. As the plane took off, I vowed that I was going to call from Chicago – and if Sarah was unhappy – I was flying right back.

Many tear-filled hours later we landed in Chicago. Suddenly cell phones worked again, and I made a call home before trying to call Sarah again. I discovered that she had called the house! Rachel explained that fortunately, she had called twice. Because the first time she had called was her first night there (while we were still in the hotel in France); and she had called crying. She was homesick and wanted to come home. However, the next day (while we were enroute to Chicago) she had gone to downtown Paris with all the other students and had a wonderful time. So she called the family back again. She was happy and laughing – so thrilled to be there! She said to ignore her first call – it was such a blessing that she could be on this trip.

Well, that did it. I figured that if God could orchestrate a shut down of pretty much every phone line in the greater Paris region just so that I wouldn't hear Sarah's homesick call and go and get her – then obviously He must have wanted her to stay. I got on the flight back to DC.

_____________________

8 Taken. Dir. Pierre Morel. Perf. Liam Neeson. Released by Grive Productions. 2009.
CHAPTER 46: "Better is little, with the fear of Yahweh, than great treasure with trouble." (Proverbs 15:16)

We continued filling out more paperwork requests for Colby's waiver, going to his tournaments, helping Jessica pack for school, and getting Rachel a summer job. At the same time I was studying for the Praxis. I needed to pass it before I could enter the Teacher Training class in the fall.

Foolishly, I scheduled it for a couple days before I was to fly standby back to Paris to pick Sarah up. This time, it was just me going; as I hoped to fly the red-eye through the night to Paris, land at the airport where the group of kids would all be waiting for their flights, grab Sarah and get back on the flight coming back home. Sure it would be a lot of flying – but that's not a big deal – I mean, really, how hard could it be?

Once again; scary question.

I think the best way to explain this experience is to just put in here the letter I wrote to family and friends describing it afterwards. It basically sums up everything – including my life.

IF THE ONLY THING I HAD TO DO WAS TAKE TESTS, MY LIFE WOULD BE EASY

Thank you for your prayers for my Praxis test today. It went well, I think, but it was kind of hard to pay much attention to it in the cross fire... Do you remember that I have four children?

So the big plan was that I would finish memorizing my study guide for the test; leaving Friday night and Saturday morning for one last review. Then I would get to sleep early, wake up like Snow White and get an early start – oh say 6 to 6:30 am. That would give me time to get a cup of coffee on the way as a special treat. What a plan. It proves that in my mind, hope springs eternal.

Unfortunately, however, I was also due to fly to Paris on Sunday night, land Monday morning, meet MJ at the check-in counter and fly back home with her at noon. So set the plot for my grand adventure....

I checked the flights Friday afternoon and discovered that the return ones were 'red'; meaning that getting on stand-by could be tough. In other words, we would be stranded in Paris. What's so bad with that – you ask? Don't get me started.

An innocent conversation with J.J. ensued later. I mentioned 'red', he mentioned going earlier – as in, say, right after the Praxis test. That would get me there a day earlier, on Sunday, when the return stand-by flights looked better. Ok... So at the time of our conversation, it was then Friday early evening. That meant it was Saturday, before dawn, in Paris. My only hope for letting Sarah know that plans had changed – in a big way – was to call at crack of dawn on my Saturday morning. Before my 6:30 departure for the Praxis. It also meant that on Friday night, I had to get packed and ready to go, since I would leave right after the test on Saturday. I was up till midnight. Of course, I couldn't sleep Friday night with the combination of worrying about oversleeping my 'Praxis' alarm, and dropping the bombshell on Sarah that she was coming home early.

I knew it was a bombshell cause she had plans to spend all day Sunday in Paris Disney with all of her fast friends that she had made during this exchange tour. Then on Sunday night she was planning on going with said 'fast friends', and tutors, to a hotel at the airport where they would rent rooms, eat pizza, swim in the pool and giggle all night – in anticipation of heading home Monday morning.

Nonetheless, it was now my job to destroy her world. So I slept lightly; anticipating the anguish. 4:45 I woke up for the last time – 2 and 3:30 am had come and gone – and I got up; ready to make a quick, devastating call to Paris, and do the last review for the Praxis. I called Sarah's host family. No answer. I called Sarah's tutor. No answer. I called Sarah's host family's cell phone; no answer. I finally called the company that had set up the whole exchange tour. A LOVELY French man spoke with me on the phone. He was wonderful, and I wondered where he had been these last four weeks of mayhem in trying to deal with this company, and this Country. He said he would see what he could do – though he was speechless when he heard the time she needed to be there. 7:30 Am. That would mean she would have to leave AT SIX THIRTY IN THE MORNING!! Apparently no one in France has been awake at that ungodly hour since before the revolution, when they still had peasants working in the fields. Then he did the math –

"Oh my goodness – it's the middle of night there for you isn't it?!!!"

"No," I responded, "it's 5:30 am".

"Well, you ARE the brave one!!"

He said he would get right on it, so I expected to hear back by the following Tuesday.

I tried to get a cup of tea and review Literary History (remember the Praxis?), and he was calling me back on my cell phone – upstairs. I ran up just in time to miss his call. I listened to his voice mail. They could arrange to get Sarah to the airport on Sunday – but it would cost 100 Euros for a cab. That translated into the national debt in US Dollars.

Plus Sarah would be driving to the airport in a cab, with a total stranger – in a country where not a single other living soul would be awake – at such an ungodly hour. I began rethinking this plan. I also tried to call J.J., in – where was he again? Who knows – and he began to backpedal too. We had not anticipated spending the college fund on a taxi in France, nor were we keen on Sarah dealing with luggage and a total stranger on its deserted highways.

Sarah called. In tears. We backpedaled more. The long and short of it? I would be stranded in Paris. Oh well.

At this point I noted the time – 6:25. I was due to be on the road for the Praxis at 6:30. I was still in my pajamas – on the phone cancelling plans with a lovely French man in Paris (perhaps that was my first mistake?!). I was soon zorching (that is a word; defined by me that morning) to Annandale so that I could get there by 7:30am – the 'magic' hour. After 7:30, the doors closed and all those outside would be doing the 'wailing and gnashing of teeth' described so well in the Bible; I was determined it would not be me. So I became a lesson in bad driving, studying my Praxis (remember the test?) while speeding. I added to the death wish by taking the beltway. I got there and found another sorry soul who was trying to make the test. We RAN to make it to the building and...

Waited. Without coffee.

The test was run by toddlers. Ok, maybe they were 20 but that is a fluid term. These 20 year olds had not gotten over the 'clique' phase; no one was communicating with anyone else as to what was going on. Either that or someone went down to the Metro, grabbed them as they were straggling home from a night of party in DC, and promised them money to monitor a test. Either way, it was a zoo.

One person would tell you to go sit in one room, the other would tell you to move to another. One would say the test begins in 5 minutes, another would say it will be an hour. Times this confusion by about 100 test-takers – most extremely stressed out – and you have the beginnings of mass hysteria. After shuffling from room to room and being told five hundred conflicting things about the tests – we finally got them and began – over an hour and a half later. And that was only, I suspect, cause somebody threatened to call the 20 year olds parents and tattle.

The 20 year olds read us the rules and began the test, noting that it was a 'timed' test and every minute counted. In the middle of it, the lights went out. All was in a panic; no one had mentioned power outages to the 20-year-old test monitors during their 30 second planning conference. They stood about the room, in the dark, chanting "Oh NO!" I finally called out to 'note the time!' I figured that if 'every minute counted'; perhaps it would be a good idea to count the minutes missed? This is not rocket science.

But no one had thought of that.

We finally finished the test. The 20 year olds collected it; but they were not quite sure how it was to be collected or where the tests were to go. If it ended up in the right place it will simply be further evidence that there is a God. And He is good. And organized.

I walked out of the test. My cell phone rang. It was Sarah calling from Paris. She was upset because she had called the house and Colby and Jessica (who just woke up) were telling her that she had to come home early. She was not sure what she was supposed to do and NEEDED ME TO TELL HER NOW! She couldn't get much information from the kids because Jessica broke her neck and needed to get to the hospital.

Huh?

I told her that things were back to the way they were originally planned. But in light of this new information, I decided it might be best to hang up with Sarah and call home; she told me she couldn't waste any more of her long distance minutes on me anyway.

I called the house and get BOTH Jessica AND Colby on different extensions. Lucky me. I asked why Jessica needed to go to the hospital. Both started giving renditions at the same time. From what I could make out – Jessica was stretching and while doing a back-bend she landed on her head and heard a 'crack'. She then felt the need to go and have an x-ray taken a.s.a.p. Colby, on the other hand, felt the need to tell her she was a moron. He had been suggesting she just take a Motrin and see if it felt better; however, she claimed, she was on the 'detox program' and a Motrin might have a 'toxic' effect on her body...

I pointed out that perhaps radiation poisoning might have a somewhat more deleterious effect on her 'toxicity' than a single painkiller.

Just a thought.

Then I pointed out the cost. She had no medical insurance. AND THERE IS A MEDICAL INSURANCE CRISIS IN THIS NATION!! Hey, I read the papers too. Nonetheless, since she was pretty desperate in her conviction that she would be crippled for life without immediate treatment, I called my doctor, on the way home, to find out what it would cost to pay for a doctor visit, and x-rays, without insurance. I discovered that it would rival the gross national product. She backpedaled.

Could this be a family trait?

Ultimately, after a few calls, she decided that I need not rush back home and take her to the doctor – she would take a Motrin and see how she felt.

Meanwhile, I fantasized about staying on Highway 66 until it disappeared into the wilderness. I didn't think there were any children there.

And so you see,

IF THE ONLY THING I HAD TO DO WAS TAKE TESTS, MY LIFE WOULD BE EASY...
CHAPTER 47: "Blessed is the man who trusts in Yahweh, and whose trust Yahweh is." (Jeremiah 17:7)

I tease my family, and laugh, because this is a family that can be teased, and can laugh. We have come out of the war zone, into new life. How can everything NOT be joyful? Only 2 years after dragging our children kicking and screaming from the grips of the enemy, and the depths of his territory – we were all beginning to be healed and remade in our walk with Christ.

4 more years have passed – and each day has shone the glory of His path through this world. Has it been easy? Well, what do you think? We still have an enemy – and he never rests. Will anyone ever get through easily? Especially anyone who is a soldier for Christ? You always see soldiers pictured with a weapon – for a reason.

But we have different weapons; and you need not even have a congressman eager for votes to be able to afford them. St. Paul told us of them long ago:

"Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil's schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the Lord's people." Ephesians 6: 10-18

You note that the Belt of Truth is the first one He lists. I think that is because, without truth, you cannot know and see God. God IS truth. As long as you live in denial, which is more and more the reality of our land – then you will continue to distance yourself from God.

As a family, we have continually had to pull ourselves back onto this path of truth over and over again. It helps, however, when you all recognize that it is Truth you are aiming for; that it is Truth you are trying to follow. And we do that through Prayer – and community. Our family is the first community – and we almost lost it. We guard it religiously now.

But God is faithful to save – and to show us the right path. It is hard for me; because I like to have a plan, and a schedule, and an outline, and – oh all right – I like a Multicolored Spread Sheet of Absolutely Everything In My Life. Unfortunately, I just can't seem to get it together long enough to make one.

Corrie Ten Boom was a famous Christian who survived the Nazi Death Camps. Her sister and father did not. She wrote several books, the most famous of which was The Hiding Place:9 about her childhood and the descent into darkness and death that occurred when the German people turned to man to solve their problems – and turned away from God. Essentially; they turned to Denial, and away from Truth.

Corrie Ten Boom spoke about talking with God one day. She kept wanting answers upon answers from Him as to what was going to happen. He finally reminded her of all the journeys she used to take with her father on the train. She recalled exactly when it was that her father gave her the ticket. It was right when they were stepping on the train. The reason for that was probably because she would have lost the ticket, or messed it up somehow, if he had given it to her earlier. Her father wanted her with him on the train – and was not taking any chance of her not being there. (http://ecclesia.org/truth/corrie.html)

With that, Corrie Ten Boom realized why God does not show us everything ahead of time. He simply leads us along; moment by moment; in our walk back home with him. If He gave it all to us ahead of time, we would probably wander away, start to do our own thing, and miss the train. I once had a plane ticket in my hand, and a lot of time before it took off. I roamed away into the gift shop and was having a lovely time looking at the items for sale.

Till J.J. (thankfully) decided to come out of the cockpit and get a throat lozenge at the gift shop. He almost died when he saw me still in there.

"WHAT are you doing?!" he exclaimed, "Why aren't you AT THE GATE boarding the flight??!!!"

"Silly J.J.," I thought, as I showed him my watch. "I still have an hour till I board!"

That's when he showed me HIS watch. I had never changed the time on mine to reflect the hour ahead where we were.

I was just about to miss the flight, and become stranded in Buenos Aires – as in South America.

So do you see why God does not 'give us our ticket' (i.e. knowledge) before hand? Heaven only knows what we would do with it! (Yes, I know that you are thinking – "but we are not as stupid as you!!" – but humor me here.)

Though sometimes He does give us clues along the way. They may seem to make no sense at the time – but eventually they do. Take my 'childhood' prophecies, which I wrote about many years ago in my first little book. It concerned some odd things that people had said about me while praying over me way back then:

It happened during a visit to My Father's House in Moodus, Connecticut. My Father's House is a Charismatic Catholic retreat center in Moodus that often brings in speakers who are part of the charismatic movement. One weekend several years ago, I saw that there was a woman coming who had the gift of prophecy. I went to check it out. She spoke a lot about the visions she had seen of the 'end times'. She spoke that we needed to be ready – and claimed the Lord had shown her that great numbers of people were not going to make it through those times. She went on and on. I was fairly skeptical, as I am whenever someone starts talking about 'end times'.** After her speech, she was able to meet with people individually to see if she had any insight for their lives. I said why not? I sat down with her and we spoke for a while. She then laid her hands on my hands. "Oh my goodness!" she exclaimed, "God has a special purpose for you picked out! He will send the children to you! In the last days there will be so many children without parents; God plans to send them to you. You will care for them." And that was that. It seemed pretty odd and so I just forgot about it.

About 3 years later Jessica got involved in a Protestant church in Old Lyme. She went each Sunday and Wednesday evenings to services. She raved on and on about the pastor, an older black woman whom she said was amazing, because when she laid her hands on Jessica, she told Jessica everything about her. Jessica kept asking me to go to a service with her. So one Sunday I did. It was nice, kind of like a Bible study. At the end of the service, the pastor asked if we wanted her to lay her hands on us and bless us. Jessica said yes and I said well, ok. She laid her hands on Jessica and blessed her, speaking of all the things the Lord loved so much about Jessica. They were all true. Then it was my turn. She placed her hands on my head and began praying for me. Suddenly she stopped. Then I heard her say "Oh my goodness, God has a special purpose for you picked out! He will send the children to you! He has chosen you to care for the children in the last days!!" I was amazed. Two different people, years apart, two totally different faith communities and both said the exact same thing. Kind of freaky, eh?"

I had written, and had these prophecies spoken over me, back when I was an attorney – dealing with adults and all the problems that their (not God-led) choices had gotten them into. Hence the prophecies made no sense to me. The only 'children' I was caring for in those days were my own rebellious ones – and they were not exactly looking at me as a 'special purpose' in their lives... It was not until years later when we had moved to Virginia, and I had entered the Teacher Training class and become a teacher, that my friend Joan called these 2 prophecies to mind. My first year teaching I was given a group of students that everyone had given up on. These children were one more step away from incarceration – and I had suffered through an entire year on my face before God for them – and for me to not shoot myself before the year was over. All I could do was try to help them, try to understand them, and mostly try to bring God to them – since God IS love. The way I figured, if I just brought them love – then I was bringing them God. I left the results to Him.

As I was bemoaning my fate one day with Joan, she suddenly asked me, "Gen, have you ever thought about the prophecies concerning the children that were spoken over you? They have come true."

I was shocked to realize that she was right. So long ago – prophecies that seemed to make no sense whatsoever – and they have come true. God does give us little glimpses at times; we just have to trust that – hey, He's God – He just might know what He's talking about!!

Imagine that!

** Although I take 'end time' stories with a grain of salt; there is one that I witnessed firsthand, and it involved Sarah. I wrote about it in my first little book.

But by far the most important thing spiritually to happen to us while in Illinois happened to Sarah. Oh should I say Mary Sarah – since that is her real name. Due to the difficulties with her birth, we had added Mary to her name in honor of the Blessed Mother. However, even though it was on her birth certificate – we had always called her Sarah.

This event happened the day that J.J. had left to go pick up his mother at the airport in Chicago. Sarah had just woken up from her nap and I was in her room changing her diaper. She was about 2, almost 3 years old. She laid on her back on the bed while I changed her diaper and the whole time she had a little toy in her hand that she was looking at and playing with.

She asked "Where daddy go?"

I replied, "Daddy went to pick up Nana, Nana is coming to visit."

"Oh", she said, "Julie".

"Well yes", I responded, "Her real name is Julie, but you children call her Nana because she is your Nana."

Sarah kept playing with her toy. "And my name Mary Sarah. Jesus call me 'Mary Sarah! Mary Sarah!'."

I just chuckled at that. "Oh really, Sarah? And what else does Jesus say to you?"

I kept laughing. Absentmindedly while playing with her toy, she continued, "Jesus say in the last days He come back and get me."

I froze. I stopped laughing. Sarah just kept playing with her toys.

"Sarah....", I said very slowly, "what does Jesus look like?"

"Oh", she replied, "Jesus real sparkly, Jesus sparkles."

At that I realized that Sarah had just told me her real name, Mary Sarah – but she had never been called that in her life. It was just on her birth certificate – she wasn't even in school yet, where she could have heard it registered. No one in our home had ever called her that name, in fact no one outside of the immediate family even knew it was her name.

But she knew it – and she knew it because Jesus called her that. I also realized in that moment that, whatever the 'last days' are, it seemed that chances were good they would happen in Mary Sarah's lifetime – when Jesus "come back and get" her...

_____________________

9 Boom, Corrie Ten. The Hiding Place. Old Tappan, NJ: Fleming H. Revell. 1971. Print.
CHAPTER 48: "Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven." (Matthew 5:16)

And God has led us all this way with His Knowledge. Since our move six years ago, much has happened with my little family – but it has all been easier to handle, and He has made it all turn out for good. Out of Jessica's DUI has come a confident, strong, beautiful young woman clothed with the wisdom and knowledge that God has given her through Franciscan University's Masters of Theology and Catechetic. She is now a Director of Religious Education at a parish outside DC with over 19,000 parishioners in it. Her first year leading people there in the faith saw over 80 new converts to Catholicism during Easter Services. Unbelievable.

Was it an easy path? Of course not – that is a silly question! Never is it easy to push back the kingdom of darkness. But that is what we do – we are from the Kingdom of Light. Where light meets darkness, darkness fades. That's why the enemy works so hard to prevent us from entering into the Light to begin with. He is more successful in some places, like New England, than others. He tries to keep the curtains drawn – gay marriage, abortion, divorce, drug addiction, alcoholism: all the things that wound and keep on wounding – as much as possible. That is why each of those being triggered to push these sinful 'lifestyle choices' become so militant so quickly. Satan doesn't dare let a crack of truth in there – or it can all spin out of control. After all, look what happened when Bob and I dared to leave the darkness, and bring our family into the Light of God's truth!

For light shines; and the darker it gets – the more you notice it. God showed me this beautifully, shortly after we moved out of Connecticut. I had gone back for a weekend retreat with my Rosary Group. Jane, one of the women in the group, had a beautiful lakeside cabin in a remote part of New York State. It was a time of fellowship, fun and reflection. Mornings usually found us all up pretty early, and as we read our bibles or chatted, we would often light a small 'Yankee candle' on the outside porch. Sometimes, as the daylight came up, we would forget it was still lit – since you couldn't see the flame once it was light outside. Little did we know how much that small flame would save us!

We had gone out on the lake in kayak's, and paddled far away. Suddenly we realized it was getting dusk – and we all made haste to get back as soon as possible. The problem was this: there was no electricity anywhere on the lake, and Jane's cabin was half way up the hill, in the woods. Once it was dark – it would be impossible to find our way back to it.

Soon, our worst fears were confirmed. We were still way out in the middle of the lake – and the darkness began to take everything away. Let me tell you, there was no small amount of fear rising up amongst us.

And then suddenly someone shouted out, "LOOK!!! LOOK AT THE LIGHT!!" We all turned, and sure enough, there, half way up the hill in the woods, flickering its small little flame in the Yankee candle jar – was the candlelight. That tiny little flame that was so unnoticeable when it was light outside – suddenly shone like a homing beacon – when it was totally dark.

And so do we.

When our country, and the world, were still surrounded with the residue of what was once a great Christian nation – then the Light that each Christian carried within him or her really didn't shine that much. We're 'good', they're 'good' – so what's the difference? But as that residue begins to fade more and more into the darkness of evil – well, that is when we really begin to shine. As the world becomes more and more broken and hurting – that is when the Love and the Light and the Truth that is our Faith – begins to shine out like a homing beacon.

Love leads people home; Light leads people home; and Truth leads people home. Our light doesn't even have to be that huge. It can just be a small, quiet flicker of love – and it will lead people home. We ARE that light; if we just keep it alive within. So do not fear the darkness – it simply illuminates our Light. The Light of Our Lord.

Yet Jessica's true freedom did not come until she had been a couple years at Franciscan – but that is her story; and perhaps some day she will write all about it. I can just give you the highlights.

Do you remember the 'smoking ritual' that she and Rachel engaged in during our trip to the Bahamas? Well, Rachel addressed the evil that had attached to her from that – and with the help of an exorcist – was set free. Jessica never did; she kept maintaining that 'nothing' really happened, and she was fine.

I was unconvinced, and once again (mom-bragging-rights here) was proven true. It happened during a Mission Trip – of all things – to Ecuador with a group of other Franciscan graduate students and Priests. It was the last evening there; and they had all been fasting and praying for an outflow of the Holy Spirit. Jessica remembers that she had been in a large room with the rest of them, singing and praying, when suddenly she felt like a million pounds had fallen on her. She grasped a friend for help; but that person could not support her weight either – and Jessica went down. She just lay there – and everyone assumed she was simply 'slain in the Spirit' – a fairly common occurrence at Charismatic Prayer services when the Holy Spirit descends powerfully onto you in a physical way.

The Priest with her, Father Murphy, was a new, young Franciscan. He noted Jessica a little distance away, and raised his hand in her general direction and prayed for her. Her body jolted. He thought that was a little odd; but turned his attention back to the altar and continued worshipping God.

A few minutes later, he did it again. Again, Jessica's body jolted the moment he raised his hand in her direction and prayed for her. Now that was odd; but hey, perhaps just coincidence.

A third time, he turned and did the same. Jessica jolted again. This time, he was becoming curious, and partly freaked out, and so he walked over to stand next to her. With full intention, he took both hands and held them over Jessica and began to pray. What happened next got not only his – but everyone else's – attention.

While remaining on her back, Jessica's body suddenly flew across the room on its own accord. She was airborne and came to rest across the room. When she landed, Jessica herself was no longer there. Instead, her body was twisting, kicking, and striking out – she was no longer in control. She said that with her last bit of consciousness, she looked out and saw that she was right next to the altar. Suddenly, she witnessed her hands reach out and grab the altar cloth. At the same moment that her brain screamed, "Oh my gosh, I can't possibly desecrate this altar!!" her body, with all its might, yanked the cloth – scattering everything on it all over the room.

That's when she lost total consciousness.

Apparently it took several hours, many Priests and all of the students praying and working to deliver Jessica from the spirits that had been residing so quietly inside – and now manifested in full fury. Father Murphy initially was fairly beside himself. He was a new Priest, and had only heard of this stuff – he had never had to fight it. All he knew was that He was not letting Jessica go. Every time she would seem to break through the creatures controlling her, he would assure her that He was not leaving her – they would save her – so hold on.

He sent 2 students running through the jungle to get the older Priest. They ran faster than they ever had and broke into the assembly where he was teaching. He spoke no English – they knew no Spanish. Nonetheless, the panic and fear on their faces convinced him. He grabbed his Priestly materials and raced with them back to the Chapel. This Priest, dealing in a part of the world with a lot of pagan practices, had seen this before. He came into the room with Authority, and speaking sternly and commandingly, he demanded the spirits release Jessica in the name of Christ. Apparently several did at that moment. But the strongest ones held on.

It became a fierce battle. But guess what? I bet you know the outcome.

Christ won. God won. The Holy Spirit won. God wins – He always does.

It was only, however, when Jessica was able to come back to consciousness and own the situation she was under – that the tide was turned. The Priest told her that SHE had to demand that they leave. She was the one who had invited them in – and they remained while citing that original invitation. Jessica had used her Free Will – and no one could take that away from her. Not even a Priest – since even God lets us use it as we wish.

Once Jessica, bolstered by the faith and prayers of all there, demanded that the demons leave – they did; relinquishing her as a collapsed rag doll on the floor. Afterward, a report had to be written for the Church – and when it was, the Glory of God was once again shown. Several students reported having seen others there helping them. Some saw the Blessed Mother interceding for Jessica. There were sightings of Angels, and even St. Michael the Archangel. Jessica, at one point, saw Jesus himself. It was when the Spanish Priest was telling her that SHE had to make the choice – that it was up to HER to make them leave. She simply felt that she lacked the strength, and the courage, to do so. Suddenly, she later said, she glimpsed Jesus. He was behind the Priest, pacing back and forth, looking at her with frustration – and hope. That is what gave her the courage to demand those overwhelming beings to leave, she said, she wanted to do it for the Lord – she couldn't let Him down.

Although Jessica was later incredibly embarrassed by what happened, this moment in time did more to strengthen the faith of all those young people in attendance, than pretty much anything else in their lives. And they are all now out in the world, pushing back the kingdom of darkness: a kingdom they now know with complete and utter certainty – exists. The fruits of this event will last throughout all time, I am sure. That's kind of the shelf life of all of the Fruit that God harvests in our lives. And once again, it is fruit that God harvests from a tree planted by the enemy; and meant for harm in our lives. God just plain and simply, quietly and calmly, makes it all turn out for HIS purposes – and for OUR good.

He rocks.

And there was more 'fruit' to come. After she had sufficiently recovered, Father Murphy listened to her confession, and absolved her of her sins. Immediately afterward, exhausted, she went right to bed. Suddenly, as she was drifing off to sleep, she felt her spirit moving out of her body. She was filled with complete and utter peace, and realized, somehow, that she was dying. Initially, she was unconcerned, as the joy that was beginning to flood her was unlike anything she had ever experienced – and she wanted more of it. But suddenly, she thought of us.

With that – she stopped. Her spirit remained partly in her body – and she began to have a dialogue with God. She said that she was afraid of how horribly the news of her death would affect her family. She also noted the things she had planned to do – things to bring people back to God.

God, however, told her that she would still impact people – that she would have as much impact on the people in earth – from heaven – as she would if she stayed. She then brought up Colby. Colby pretty much remained unconvinced about all this 'God' stuff – he had gone directly to California (which was pretty much a repeat of the darkness of Connecticut) instead of coming to Virginia with us. Hence, his eyes had not really been opened to the Truth. What would happen to him? Surely, Jessica needed to remain to impact him for Christ.

Once again, God assured her that she could have just as much impact from heaven, as on earth. But with all of her excuses, God gave Jessica a choice. What did she want? He would honor her decision. She thought about it, and her roomate later told her that she heard Jessica, as Jessica mentioned each of our names while considering leaving us in this life. She also knew that since she had just been to confession, her sins were wiped clean and hence she was going straight to heaven. That was a big draw for her.

Finally, she struck a deal. She would stay, and work for God on this earth, with one condition. The condition was that when He finally came back for her again – she would once again be in a state of Grace – and able to bypass Purgatory. At the same moment she sensed God utter, "Done", she felt her spirit rush back into her heavy, aching body. Her glimpse into heaven was over. She had chosen to remain here.

And so, you ask if Jessica's journey back to wholeness has been easy? Are you kidding me??!! But today, because of her faith developed as she walked this hard road – countless people are pushing back the darkness. And it will continue to recede, because Jessica repeatedly pushes it back – each and every day.
CHAPTER 49: "But our God is in the heavens. He does whatever he pleases." (Psalm 115:3)

But when Jessica told me about her brief interaction with Heaven, I was not entirely surprised. I have had a pretty amazing Heaven story ever since we lived in Florida; and heck, I might as well tell it now.

At the time this story happened, Jessica was about 10 years old, Colby was about 6, Rachel was about 4 and Sarah was about 1. We had neighbors who lived across the street by the name of Laura and Joe Carlson. They had a daughter Emily, who played with Jessica, and so we knew them fairly well. Laura's parents were both retired and lived in the same town. Their grandchildren called them 'Oma' and 'Opa'. Laura's mother was born in Poland, and married Laura's dad when he was a young soldier in WW2.

Oma was the oldest of about 13 children and probably around 16 years old when Hitler's bombs fell on her city. In the resulting panic and confusion, the entire family was split up. Oma spent the rest of the war going from refugee camp to refugee camp looking for her siblings. By the end of the war she had found every one – including her mother and the baby – and she managed to keep the family together. She met Opa after the war, married and came to the US. Laura was their only child.

A few years before I met Laura, Oma had come down with breast cancer. She was close to death when her siblings in Poland pleaded with her to come back and visit them. Laura and she went to the doctor for permission for Oma to travel. The doctor refused to give his consent; but nonetheless, Oma was determined to go. The doctor told Laura that she better be prepared for her mother to return home in a wooden box.

Oma landed in Europe, and her siblings immediately bundled her up and took her to the miraculous waters of Lourdes, France. Oma continued to spend the next few months there – visiting with all of her many family members. At the end of her visits, she flew back home. Once home, she and Laura made the trek back to the doctor. He was obviously surprised to see her; and sent her for testing. Laura told me later that she will never forget his face when he came in with the test results. He was white as a ghost she said, as he laid the results out in front of them. There was absolutely no sign of cancer anywhere in Oma's body.

It had plain and simply disappeared. A miracle.

Well, a few years went by and now we were part of their lives. Oma and Opa loved being grandparents, and doted on their two grandchildren. Unfortunately, they had very little in the way of material things to give them, as they existed pretty much on social security. But love more than made up for material lack.

Laura's husband Joe had an interesting business. He and his father owned a large car dealership and also engaged in offshore shipping. J.J. and I were just a young Navy family – and had no idea what 'offshore shipping' was – but hey, nothing says you need to know everything! We would see expensive foreign cars and huge yachts on trailers appear overnight, and within a couple days be gone again – just another day in the neighborhood. Laura had never worked outside the home, and had never gone to college. She was just a regular wife and mother who cared for her family.

Until the day of the accident.

On that day, Laura was driving her husband's dealership car when another driver who hit her totaled it. Laura actually had to be cut out of the car to be rescued. Miraculously, she was not badly injured. The rescue squad took her to the hospital, and laid her on a gurney outside the emergency examining room.

It was there that she was arrested.

In the course of about 5 minutes, she discovered that her entire married life was a lie. For you see, the very fancy dealership car – from her husband's business – that she had been driving, turned out to be stolen. Her husband's 'offshore shipping' business was offshore all right. It was 'offshore' where stolen vehicles were taken outside to international waterways, stripped and disguised – and sent back in as 'foreign imports' for sale in her husband's dealership.

Pretty much the bottom fell out of everything after that. Laura's husband and father went on the lam, and she filed for divorce. It was then that she discovered that absolutely everything she owned – house, cars, possessions – were in her husband and her father-in-law's names. Joe filed the legal paperwork necessary – and had his wife and children thrown into the street.

I remember the day we helped her and the kids get their own personal items – clothing, etc. – out of the house before the sheriff came to lock the door. We were all racing in and out of the house trying to extricate as much stuff as humanly possible. I had Sarah in a backpack, and was grabbing everything I could. Oma and Opa were there too – with ashen faces. They were trying to help their daughter and grandchildren retain as much of their things as they were able. What they must have thought of their son-in-law, I can only imagine. They never said a word.

Suddenly, as I passed Oma with another armful of stuff, I saw her put her load down and sink into a chair.

"I don't feel well," she said.

Something about the way she said it gave me a dreadful feeling. Sure enough, once she went back to the doctor, we heard the grim prognosis. The cancer was back, and it was everywhere. So began the slow and sad deterioration of Oma. Throughout the months that followed, everyone was grief-stricken. Everyone, that is, but Oma.

Yes, she was heart broken that she would not see her grandchildren grow up; but she continued to tell everyone over and over:

"God is taking me home for a reason. I have no money to help Laura and the children; there is nothing that we can do for them. I know that God will use me to help them – and that is why He is bringing me home. It's the only thing that makes sense."

Everyone was really too grief stricken to respond. As the months went by, Opa and Oma helped Laura find a nice rental for her family. They helped her look for, and get a good secretarial job. They walked with her through the divorce process, helping her in every way they could. They just couldn't – as much as they wanted to – give her any financial support. They lived in a tiny mobile home themselves – they didn't even have space for their daughter and grandchildren to live with them.

As Oma sickened, her work on a quilt for Emily intensified. She was determined to give it to her as a lasting remembrance. She sewed many meaningful things into that quilt – things that she hoped would help Emily remember her. She finally finished the quilt and lovingly gave it to Emily. The next day, she took to bed – and within just a few days – was gone.

Laura afterwards told me of an amazing occurrence. As her mother slipped into a coma, she reverted back to speaking Polish. Neither Laura, nor her father, had any idea what she was saying. For a day or two, she kept gesturing and urgently speaking in Polish. They had no idea what she wanted. Suddenly, Oma's sister arrived to see her. She walked into the room; and froze. Oma was doing her gesturing and urgent speaking.

"Heinz!" her sister whispered in awe, "she's speaking to Heinz!"

It turned out that their brother Heinz had died years ago, and Oma was talking to him. She kept asking him to come closer, so that she could hold his hand.

Laura said it pretty much freaked everybody out.

Oma passed away shortly before we moved out of Florida. It was a year or so later that I got a phone call from Laura in our new home. Now it was her turn to speak urgently.

"Genovi!" she exclaimed the minute I said hello, "do you remember what my mother said? What she said about 'helping me out' when she gets to heaven?"

I cautiously said yes; and then the story unfolded.

Apparently, Joe, her ex-husband, had finally gone off to jail a few months prior. It had been in the news all over the state. On the other side of Florida was a married couple that had gone to school with Joe when they were younger. They had no children; both worked, and were loaded with money. The husband showed the wife the story, and they both expressed surprise at what had become of their childhood classmate. Suddenly one of them noted that Joe had left a wife, and 2 young children, totally unsupported when he went to prison. They agreed that that was 'so sad'; put the paper down and continued with their breakfast.

When they later called Laura, they explained that – since that moment – neither of them had gotten "a single minute's peace." They were both consumed with the thought that they just had to help Laura and the children financially. After all, they had the money, and what else were they doing with it? They were awakened with the idea at night, bombarded with the idea in the morning, interrupted with the idea at work. They simply, and plainly, could get no rest until they did something.

So they set up a bank deposit for Laura and the kids; and called her to let her know how much they had designated to go into it each month from then on out.

Laura was, obviously, speechless. But at least she was not also clueless. She had inside knowledge of exactly what was going on. And 'what was going on' was this:

"Gen, my mother is harassing the heck out of this poor couple – because that's apparently what she went to heaven for."

Who knew? Besides Oma, that is...

I think that we will eventually all know – that our work here is not finished – just because God brings us home to heaven. The ties are stronger than we know; the invisible cords are actually quite taut – and the joy – unspeakable...
CHAPTER 50: "Therefore Yahweh will wait, that he may be gracious to you; and therefore he will be exalted, that he may have mercy on you, for Yahweh is a God of justice. Blessed are all those who wait for him." (Isaiah 30:18)

And so you see why, more and more, we just need to stop sweating the small stuff. We also need to open our eyes to really see. Sometimes, when you open your eyes and see only the dirt your face is shoved into – that's a clue that you need to do something else. We took that clue back when the children were raging out of control; and with that small sacrifice and trying to follow God – the blessings have multiplied out of control.

In Virginia, it has been so much easier to raise a family since there is such strong support in matters of faith. As a parent, when your child is walking with Christ – then you can pretty much step back and say, "Here you go, Lord!"

You can then look at your spouse and say, "Pressure's off!!!"

It's another one of those win / win situations.

You realize that no matter what happens, Christ has your children's backs – and so they are good to go. Does this mean that life becomes a piece of cake? Well, what do you think? Look at the world for gosh sakes!

Since Colby's sacrifice of his California College for his sister, he has also received blessing upon blessing. Yup, pretty much in spite of himself and his scoffing at all the 'God talk'; God has pretty much had his back. Well... although there was the night of the telephone call...

One o'clock in the morning usually finds me asleep in bed, so when the phone rang I wasn't exactly expecting to hear my son's drunken voice shouting, "Mom! I f------ up my hand! I f------ up my hand, Mom!"

(I think that rearranging words and repeating sentences makes intoxicated people feel that they are really getting their point across... But I digress.)

Sure enough, Colby had f---- up his hand. In a drunken stupor at a party, he had put it through a window – and then pulled it back out. A huge shard of glass went through his hand, and blood began gushing everywhere. His inebriated brain thought of the most logical thing to do – run 5 miles to the hospital – with blood gushing the whole way.

However, since God had his back, God arranged for the campus bus to be pulling up to the intersection at the end of the first block when Colby got there – by now completely covered in his own blood. The bus driver took one look, told him to get in the van and rushed him to the hospital. Today Colby has one neat little scar, and resultant nerve damage, as a cherished memory of such a wonderful college party.

However, in all likelihood, he could have had a neat little cemetery plot – had God not 'had his back'.

And unlike his friends still living in the darkness of Connecticut, he has embarked on a bright new future in the light of Truth. The college he finally was able to attend, after all those NCAA issues, ended up being the perfect match for him. Most importantly, since the coach was a Christian, he provided a wonderful role model of the impact a man can have in the world – when he walks with Christ.

Colby is, God willing, at the beginning of his own walk – with many stories of 'impacting the world' to come. He has finished school and is working as an accountant in Florida – while pursuing his real dream of playing golf – and calling it a job. Meanwhile, I just continue to pray that God has not only his 'back', but also all of him. And I also pray that he ends up being the formidable warrior of Christ that I know he can be – and perhaps is destined for.

Sarah has had her own battles to fight. Her senior year in high school, she became more and more anxious. She had always had a weak stomach – we thought – and so we kept telling her to just relax.

There followed yet another moment of parental embarrassment when we discovered that actually she had celiac disease and her 'weak stomach' was in fact a stomach that could not handle wheat products. Her anxiousness? Since we kept shoveling gluten into her gluten-intolerant-body – her immunities finally threw up the white flag and surrendered – to hyper-thyroidism.

That's when we all became educated to the issue of gluten; and the fact that bioengineering has created wheat products with about a thousand more grams of 'gluten' in them then has ever existed before. Hence the national problem with celiac disease and gluten intolerance.

See what happens when we play God? Maybe it would be a good idea to just let Him have that role. But that's just my own opinion.

It has been a long hard road for her; but one not without moments of complete and total glory. One such moment occurred at the National Walk for Life Mass.

What is the National Walk for Life you ask? Well that's when hundreds of thousands of people descend on the National Mall in Washington, DC each year, on the anniversary of the Supreme Court ruling of Roe vs. Wade, to protest the codifying into law of the 'right' for millions of mothers to kill their own babies. It's also the time, each year, when the 'mainstream media' goes out of their way to be busy elsewhere. Otherwise they would have to actually report that hundreds of thousands of people are in our nation's capitol protesting that something that our nation says is a 'right' – is actually murder. (Kind of like Germany when the mainstream press reclassified Jews as something akin to 'sub-humans' that also had no rights – but I digress.) The 'mainstream media' prefers to ignore the whole thing, grab the 4 pro-choice people on the other side of town – and discourse on why taking away the rights of mothers to kill their own children would be a horrible, terrible, really bad thing. (Or not.)

And so, the night before the March for Life, the National Basilica in Washington DC has a 'kick off' Mass for Life. Sarah got invited to give one of the Readings. How exciting!

I'm glad you think so, because for me – I was pretty clueless.

All I knew was that it was my first year teaching (the students from hell) and I was spending every spare minute making lesson plans (and filing assault reports – but that's beside the point). The last thing in the world I had time for was to drive Sarah an hour and a half – on a school night – to a Mass just so she could give some little reading! I mean, couldn't we just go to church down the road?

But she had promised and so I was on board with this latest activity. Rushing home from work, I got us both in the car and on the road – through DC rush hour traffic – but hey, who's noticing? We arrived with just a few minutes to spare and so I dropped Sarah off at the front of the church and told her I would park the car and meet her right inside.

Still clueless.

For some strange reason, I was having a tough time finding a parking space, what with the million buses parked all over the place.

I was beginning to think that just maybe, perhaps, there was more going on than I knew. What a novel idea!! I finally crammed the car between two buses and ran for the Church. Last thing I wanted to do was to be late and have to walk down the aisle looking for Sarah after everyone was seated. How embarrassing.

So I ran for the church, opened the door – and discovered that I was in the midst of a mob scene. There were literally, no lie, and no exaggeration (which is a BIG promise from me!) THOUSANDS of people crammed into this Basilica. And I was supposed to meet Sarah inside?

Just as I started to panic, I realized that – if Sarah were giving a reading, then she would probably be up front. So I pushed and shoved my way to the very front of the church. There was a lady standing there, behind the altar rail, looking like she knew what was going on. I went up to her and asked if she had any idea where my daughter Sarah James could be, as she was supposed to give a reading during the Mass.

"Of course!" she responded while pointing up into the heavens, "she's practicing her reading right now!!"

I followed her pointing finger, and suddenly realized that my daughter was way out on a platform above these THOUSANDS OF PEOPLE practicing her reading.

I was speechless – which, by now we all know, is not exactly a normal condition for me.

"Here," the woman continued, "come on up and get your seat for the ceremony."

With that, she pointed to the side of the MAIN ALTAR at a row of seats right on the platform – directly in front of the television camera that was being set up – as she spoke.

Have you ever done a mental checkpoint of absolutely everything you are wearing on your body – in about a millisecond? If so, you know what I was doing the moment after she pointed to our seats.

"Scarf, okay. Sweater – WILL NOT DO! Turtleneck –what was I thinking?! Hopefully the scarf will dress it up. And SLACKS?!! Is anyone else in slacks?!"

After frantically looking around at all the others seated by us, I discovered that the answer of course was – "No."

I was instantly so proud of my daughter, and just as quickly – so mortified that I was completely unprepared for this event. Ripping the sweater off, I readjusted the scarf so as to hide as much of my body as possible. I then sat down and waited for Sarah to finish her reading and return to our seats – directly in front of the television camera.

The church continued to fill up at an amazing rate. Just when I thought there wasn't another inch of this massive Basilica left unoccupied, Sarah turned to me and said – "Hey mom, you know, I think I have to go to the bathroom; should I go now?"

You know how when you reflect on your years of motherhood and you say you wish you could have them all back again – you realize that there are actually some moments that you don't really want to have back again? This would be one.

I turned to the spouse of one of the other readers and asked if she had been to one of these Masses before?

"Oh yes!" she gushed.

"Good," I said, "then you might know. Should my daughter use the restroom now – or can she wait till afterwards?"

The woman turned pale and, leaning forward, she said, "The opening procession of Bishops, Cardinals and Priests takes at least 45 minutes in and of itself. This Mass lasts for hours... How long can she hold it?"

At that moment, I knew the answer was – not that long. Grabbing Sarah, I told her that we had to make a run for it. This was, of course, a little easier said than done. The hundreds of Priests, Bishops, Cardinals and Brothers were lining up and down all the staircases waiting for the procession to start. I simply began my own litany of "excuse us, pardon us, excuse us, pardon us" as we desperately rushed in the direction of the bathrooms.

We finally made it – just in time to discover that we were at the end of a line of about, oh say... two hundred women.

Seeing the look of desperation on Sarah's face, I did what any other mother would do – I started walking past people explaining that my daughter was a speaker and had to get back on the Altar ASAP! I dragged her embarrassed self all the way to the front of the line – and thanked everyone for understanding.

This was not exactly a difficult move. I mean, I was cutting in front of PRO-LIFE people who had traveled from all over the country with PRO-LIFE groups, and waited all day to come to a PRO-LIFE Mass.

What were they going to do – KILL ME?

I think not.

Sarah and I raced back to our seats – in front of the camera – just in time to see a spectacular show of solidarity for Life. I had to keep pinching myself that I was sitting front row and center in this blessed, blessed event. And I was never so proud of my daughter when she, with unutterable poise and confidence, stood in front of thousands upon thousands of people and read the Scripture passage impeccably. I guess this has even more significance if you were to realize that Sarah has suffered from life-long stuttering – to the point of barely being able to finish a sentence when she was under pressure. And yet, in this moment of grace, she was... Perfect. Just like the God she serves. It was a moment I will always cherish; and yet another example of the blessings upon blessings showered upon us by this Great God we serve.

Today Sarah is beginning her junior year at Franciscan in hopes of becoming an Elementary School Teacher – something that she will shine at. Although she is pretty much shining already...

Throughout our family's difficult journey, she has perhaps struggled the most – since she was a 'baby' who had to grow up very, very fast. With our attentions pulled in so many directions, she, as the 'good one' – was often overlooked. Nonetheless, she has handled it all with grace and poise. It is a grace that bears the sweet fragrance of our Precious Savior who pours it upon her in full measure. It is also a fragrance made even sweeter by the loving touch of His Mother. It is obvious that Sarah's devotion to our Blessed Mother is equaled only by the Blessed Mother's love and devotion for Sarah.

And that does THIS mother's heart good...
CHAPTER 51: "Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth." (Matthew 5:5)

And then there is Rachel. A woman I recently met at a prayer conference said something that resonated with me. She commented that she has often been able to tell when Jesus has a huge purpose for someone – by the amount of hardship they have had to overcome in their life. "It's as though," she reflected, "Satan has some suspicion concerning it – and has determined to take that person out before they can become effective." I have often wondered the same about Rachel – in fact about all my children. They have each had one massive roadblock after another in their path. I mean, when they were young, it was downright physical. But once they survived and got older and stronger – it became emotional and spiritual. But, as usual, it has all been used exactly as God has wanted to become warriors for HIM.

Today, we are planning a wedding (right after I finish therapy over how I got so old...).

And the wedding is for – you guessed it – Rachel.

Do you think that, simply because she went to Franciscan University, her life suddenly became easy? If so, do you also think that little green men fly spaceships from the moon and land on your rooftop?

Because the odds are about the same.

Rachel's years at Franciscan went something like this.

"Sweetheart! Why hello! We're SO glad you decided to come home for the Walk for Life and bring 25 of your closest brand-new friends! No, we have plenty of room for you all. It's just that we hadn't planned on seeing you again so soon – we only dropped you off at school 2 weeks ago!"

"Sweetheart, your dad and I really think that dropping out of school to become a nun would not be the best decision right now. Why don't you wait and see if the Lord is still calling you to it AFTER you finish your nursing degree?"

"Sweetheart, we're glad that the Mother Superior at the Convent told you to wait to see if the Lord is really calling you to religious life – and to continue with your nursing studies. In fact, I think we recall mentioning something like that to you before you went to the convent. But no matter, it's good to have you back!"

"Sweetheart, I don't think the Lord would call a former anorexic to a life of austere fasting. Let's ask our Priest what he thinks about that."

"Sweetheart, I think it is wonderful how you have decided to donate pretty much everything you own to the poor. Next time, could you refrain from donating a lot of the things we all own too? We just may actually need them."

"Sweetheart, I know that your boss this summer has asked you not to spend so much time listening and speaking to your customers as you ring up their groceries. But that may be because so many people are coming to bare their hearts to you that your checkout line stretches down the aisle – while everyone else's lines are empty."

"Sweetheart, I know that it is wonderful how the Lord has saved you so many times from incredibly dangerous situations as you have traveled the world bringing Him to everyone you meet. I was just wondering, though, do you think you might be a little more careful next time? Your Guardian Angel may just need a break now and then."

"Sweetheart, I don't think that God will think you are too soft on yourself if you sleep in your bed. I mean, doesn't that floor get kind of hard? It is a little odd to be lying right next to a perfectly good bed. I'm not sure a poor person – if they had the choice – would be choosing a floor over a bed. In fact, they might just wonder what in the world is wrong with you?"

"Sweetheart, I do not think that feeling woozy in the operating room is such a clear sign that you are meant to drop your nursing major – in your third year – and pick up a theology major. I know that you are determined that this is God's will for you – but, as your parents, we just may have a little insight too..."

"Sweetheart, we're so glad the nursing department has decided to take you back in after dropping them for theology. Now let's just see how we go about trying to put it all together again – class-wise, tuition-wise, everything-wise. Don't worry, it is nooooo big problem for us!"

"Sweetheart, PLEASE put the scissors down. I know that you feel you value your appearance – and your hair – too greatly; but I'm not sure that chopping it all off will solve that problem. Now let's go to the beauty parlor and see if they can try to fix it."

"Sweetheart, going on a date with a boy does NOT mean that you are saying you will marry him! If God really wants you to commit to religious life; then He will not be threatened if you go on one date to see if that is so. Even our Priest has told you that!"

"Ok, Sweetheart, let me get this straight. This young man was in Seminary until he discerned out. He is completely and totally faith filled. He knows the value of faith, and is willing to fight for it, since his own family had to flee their Middle East homeland with barely their lives – simply because they were Catholic. He treats you like a princess and completely adores you. He is brilliant, an incredibly hard worker and amazingly talented. And his heart's goal is to marry and make his home a domestic church. You also radiate with joy every time you talk about him. And, so.... why exactly did you tell him that you could never, ever consider marrying him?"

"Sweetheart, let us just tell you something speaking from experience. The quickest way to holiness is not sitting in a sparse, secluded room somewhere praying morning, noon and night – though that most certainly makes a huge difference in the power of God in this world. BUT – speaking from our own experience once again – the quickest way to holiness comes – we think – from having to deal with a spouse and children. All of whom can make you crazy. All the time. If you can STILL seek, and find, God through that – then you can find holiness anywhere. AND, while doing so, you can raise up new warriors for Christ. From what we've seen – they are needed more desperately now than at any other time... And so, if you love this young man – then it seems pretty obvious to us that God's Will for you, in this life, is to seek Him through the amazing vocation of Marriage. But, of course, that's just our opinion – and what do WE know? So we certainly agree that there's nothing wrong with continuing to ask another 8 billion people – just to be sure."

Actually, little green Martians on the roof may have been a little bit easier to deal with.
CHAPTER 52: For thus said the Lord Yahweh, the Holy One of Israel, "You will be saved in returning and rest. Your strength will be in quietness and in confidence."" (Isaiah 30:15)

Which brings me to the end of my story – so far. I have no illusions that it will be the end of hardship (I still do, after all, have my 4 children). But, I also have no illusions that it will be the end of Glory – since after all, I still have my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. And there is no end of Glory when you are around Him.

You just have to set your will to stay with Him – since He is usually walking fast. He has places to go, things to do, people to see. And so do we. Rachel's fiancé is the one who put it best. When she was continuing to vacillate back and forth between marriage – or not; he finally told her this:

"Rachel, you have to set your will. First you seek God's will. Once you think you have found it; then you have to set YOUR will. It is not a feeling – for feelings change; it is not an emotion – for emotions rise and fall. It is your WILL. Once you have set it; then you plain and simply follow it. Whether it is easy, or it is hard. You have set it; and hence you have committed to following it. No matter what."

That's when I knew that we were dealing with a very wise young man.

People often seem surprised when I tell them all we have gone through in the last few years, in our journey back to wholeness and life. They say things like, "I could have never done that" or "I would be too upset to leave all that behind" or "I just feel it would be tooo hard".

But they say these things because we, as a culture, have forgotten about the incredible power of our Will. What else could explain a culture telling young children that they have no ability to control their passions and hormones? How else can people justify obnoxious behavior on the part of individuals who claim their 'emotions' got the better of them? Where else could you find the expression "If it feels good, do it" as an accepted part of societal life?

Only in a place that no longer uses its Will.

But in all honesty – a place can no longer use its Will – when it is no longer turning to the God who strengthens Wills. We were never meant to use our Wills on our own. We were only meant to use them, as directed by Christ. When we align our Will with HIS – then there is, quite frankly, nothing that we cannot do. This is not new knowledge, for we were told over 2,000 years ago, to tell ourselves that: "I can do all things through Christ, who strengthens me." (Philippians 4:13)

It's just that we've forgotten.

And so, I am hopeful that all my little stories will help to remind us. I am hopeful that they will wake us up to the deception that lurks among us – and will continue to grow if we do not take active measures to set our Will – and to wake up. Now that we have brought our family to live in a more faith friendly part of the country, my biggest concern is the ignorance of those among us here. They have not seen the evil that is gripping so much of our nation in places that have already given over so much to darkness. Hence, they do not think it is real. They continue to buy into Satan's subtle tactics – "hey, what's a little 'sin' really hurt? And who am I to say it is wrong? Isn't that 'intolerant'?

I have seen this before; and I know where it leads. It leads to the toleration of evil; and that toleration leads to horribly intolerant occasions of horror in individuals' lives. For to 'tolerate' evil, is to get a whole lot more of it. And that is not 'toleration'; it is indifference and just plain 'playing it safe'.

And of course, I can't help but keep remembering the dream...

It was Sept. 30, 2012 and my agitation had been growing for some time. I continue to get legal updates, and I had seen one after another report of legal, and often governmental, attacks against Christianity – and all in Western nations. The very places that Christianity had built – all were turning on their mother. And it was in the name of 'freedom' and 'tolerance'. Few seemed to realize it was 'freedom' to enslavement by sin, and 'tolerance' of evil. At the same time, the Presidential election was looming, and the nation seemed on the verge of electing a man who was single-handedly turning this nation into one where real Christians were not invited. And no one cared, or even noticed. He promised America 'things' in exchange for the truth, and America was happy to remain blind to that reality. It was such a clear choice against God, and so I feared for my country if we made it.

I felt so frustrated at being unable to do anything to stop it; and then God sent me this dream:

In it, I was following a huge, towering man. He appeared to be drunk and oblivious to his surroundings and situation. Two men, evil men, were stalking him. In my dream, I believed that they were waiting to get him alone so that they could sodomize him. They appeared well dressed, alert, conniving, canny.

I tried to warn the man, but he was too drunk to listen – just fumbling, tottering around. I tried to warn all those around, all those I passed as I followed the stumbling giant of a man – but no one would listen or pay attention. The men stalking him eyed me warily. They knew... that I knew.

I continued for a long time – following behind, trying to get help. No one would listen, no one wanted me there. Finally, I stopped following. From a hilltop, I watched as the men coaxed the giant man into a house. I was helpless to stop it.

I turned away. When I looked back, I saw the giant man. He was back on the street, stumbling on the sidewalk. His pants were down around his knees and the two men were gleefully raping him at will...

In my dream, I tried then to call for help, but the phone was old, ancient – it did not work. I thought that if I could only get the police there to see it – the man would be saved. Yet even then, something told me that no one would care. It was too late. Even the drunk giant of a man had not come to his senses. He kept crying out, "Get OFF of me!!!", but offered no defense. He never tried to fight back. Still drunk, still stumbling – a wounded, confused bear of a man. I grew concerned for my own safety – I left.

And then I woke up. The dream was so real, so awful, that it took me a few moments to get my bearings. I then asked God – what in the world was THAT about??!! The knowledge immediately came to me – it was America.

And at that moment I knew: the giant man was MY country. No matter what I would, or could, do – no one will heed my warnings – they will not turn back... I got out of bed and drove to Perpetual Eucharistic Adoration. While driving, the words "Woe, Woe is Babylon" (Revelation 18: 1-10) came to my mind over and over again. I could not get them to stop.

In Adoration, God spoke to me further. He showed me that I am just one small child – and that I am trying to stop a giant that will not listen.

In frustration, I said to Him, "but it is my nation."

He immediately, sadly and softly, said back, "and they are MY people."

Tears came to my eyes as I realized the pain in the heart of God. And I heard two words – "Free Will".

I then realized that – not even GOD would make America turn back. He so honors our free will. God already saved the world – but will not violate our own free will to MAKE us choose that salvation. Perhaps it was time for me to give up my own agitation at being unable to make others do so. Am I stronger, and wiser, than God?!!

With that, He showed me the image of the child on the beach. We've all heard the story. A child is on a beach covered with millions of starfish washed ashore. As he walks down the beach, he keeps leaning over, picking one up and tossing it back into the sea. An adult comes by and watches for a few minutes. The adult then tells the child – "Why are you wasting your time?! You can not possibly make a difference!!!"

The child wordlessly leans over, picks up another starfish and flings it back into the sea. He then turns and says to the adult, "made a difference to THAT one..."

And so that is what I can do. I can make a difference – one at a time. I can make a difference to the ones God places in my path; I can fight for them, I can fight for truth – whenever and wherever it lands right in front of me. And I can give the rest – along with my agitation – to God.

As the Titanic was sinking, the band played music, and today we honor those brave men for doing so – for standing bravely against the inevitable. But think about something. If they had known that the boat was about to hit ice and sink – and instead of doing anything to stop it, they had begun their melancholy tunes – would we still honor them today?

Our nation is NOT sinking. It has NOT hit ice – but the glaciers are getting awfully, awfully close. It is not a time to begin playing it safe; and playing our own little melancholy tunes. It is a time to seek the Lord, to seek healing, and to FIGHT.

We are, after all, not living in ordinary times. We are living in Resurrection times.

Like everyone else, I sat through the movie, The Passion of the Christ, and flinched with each fresh blow upon our Lord. Yet those were not the scenes that stayed with me. The ones that did were very different. In the midst of the movie, on His way to Calvary, Jesus fell, and his Mother desperately ran to be by him. With memories of her child fresh in her heart, she tried to scoop him up in her arms. Instead, He lovingly looked in her eyes and said, "Mother, look! I make all things NEW!"

With determination, he struggled again to his feet and continued his long, cruel march onward.

The second part that stayed with me was just a few seconds long – and it was at the very end. We get a glimpse into the tomb, just as the stone is rolling away. The linens surrounding our Lord suddenly float downward – no longer encasing a body. And there! There was Jesus – sitting up, beginning to open His eyes. He took a breath and looked upward – as though to His Father. Then, with determination in his manner, and his jaw – He began to stand up and walk forward.

And I got it.

All this is behind us. The sin, the destruction, the lies, the hatred – all the ridiculous, puny ploys of our enemy. He has already BEEN defeated. He is vanquished, and done.

For we live in the Resurrection Period – we live a Resurrection Life.

With THAT knowledge, and THAT power – Come. Let us get up and move forward. For after all:

There is work to be done.
Afterword

The experiences, joys and trials that I have written about here are all entirely true. They happened – I was there. However, because this is a story about my children as much as it is about me – I have changed all of our names and many of our places to protect them. They didn't ask for their mom to blab every single personal thing about their life to the world – and so I have promised them that they can continue to live their own lives in peace. Therefore, you will not find a 'James' family, or a Genovi, J.J., Jessica, Colby, Rachel and Sarah James anywhere. But know that we exist under another name – and could in fact be the neighbor down the street.

Jesus frequently works quietly and unobtrusively – but never forget the fact that... He is Everywhere.

I wish you the joy and freedom of finding Him active and alive in your own family. Blessings!
About the Author

I am a fairly predictable person: a woman of steady habits raised in the land of steady habits – New England. If left to myself, I would be found with a good book and a cup of tea. Unfortunately, with four children, I am rarely left to myself. I am, in other words, a predictable person living an unpredictable life. Children will do that to you. One minute you're sitting there, drinking your tea and reading something like 'How to organize your life in 10 easy steps'. The next minute you answer the phone and you are living 'How to keep your life from spinning out of control in 1 frantic step'. It ain't easy.

But that's motherhood – yet apparently not ALL motherhood. I have friends (also mothers) who tell me that they are living vicariously through my stories. My stories, and my children, often make for a good laugh. Usually afterward. And always because I believe a good laugh outranks a good cry.

It wasn't always this way. There was a time in my life when I was a young, liberal, feminist law student; well on my way to solving all the problems of the world. I married a young Naval Aviator and began to travel that world. During the next years, we had 4 children and suddenly all the problems of that world seemed to move into my living room. They had names: Jessica, Colby, Rachel & Sarah.

As time went by, I began to realize that, just perhaps, I wasn't sure how to solve all the problems of the world; heck, some days I had no idea how to make it to dinner! But I hung in there and slowly, as the Lord used my 'problems' to grow my faith in Him, my focus became much clearer. And as my focus grew clearer; I began to realize just how OUT of focus so much of this world is...

Just as a camera lens has difficulty focusing in dark places, so our spiritual lenses are skewed for lack of spiritual light. Our culture is growing darker; and focusing is harder than ever... Unless one walks with the Light of Faith – one stumbles about aimlessly. And unless one reasons with the Light of Faith – one reasons blindly. This book is the story of how I learned to walk, and reason, with that Light. And it all came from having 'problems' with 4 children...

