Sometimes Love In Action Looks Like Loaf Bread, Fire Trucks And Tuckaseege Bumper Stickers

Life is precious.  And it's sometimes insane.  I learned that tonight.  I need to talk about it.  And now that everyone's gone to bed I think I'll write about it.  To start with... I haven't written anything in this blog worth mentioning for the last 2 years. Before my mom got sick I wrote often - writing is my hobby and something I enjoy a great deal.  While she was sick I was just a giant ball of emotions and it would all come spilling out on the page.  After she died I wrote 4 or 5 pieces that were published in the papers.  Three months after her death I was so wracked with grief that I couldn't even hold my eyes open without pain.  I didn't feel like living - certainly didn't feel like writing.  The doctor said "there's a pill for that" and he put me on anti-depressant medication.  It must've done something for me - at least I stopped crying uncontrollably and I didn't throw up from stress headaches anymore.  But it sucked the emotions out of me.  My will to do much of anything was gone.  I made it through the days but that was it.  How boring a life to live if you can't feel it some kind of way.  Emotions are the stuff that makes it all interesting.  And without some sort of feelings - I didn't have much to write about at all.

A couple of months ago the doctor worked with me to finally ween me off the medicine.  Although I wouldn't know for sure, I'm thinking coming off of anti-depressant medication feels like kicking heroin.  Or maybe getting run over by a bus.  There's even a name for it, "Antidepressant Discontinuation Syndrome".  Yep.  I was ate up in some Antidepressant Discontinuation Syndrome and it was B-A-D.  Regardless.  I've endured the weeks of hellish, albeit gradual, withdrawal symptoms and I'm happy to say that I took my last 1/2 a pill last night.  And wouldn't you know it - opportunity for every emotion known to man presented itself to me tonight.  I have felt so many different kinds of ways tonight that I thought for a minute my head might explode.  But the thing I felt the most tonight was God.  I felt His loving mercies wrapped all around me so much so that the hairs stood up on the back of my neck.  I wanted to shout out to everyone, "DO YOU FEEL THAT?!  THAT'S GOD!!!"  

I didn't necessarily mean to get all personal.  I don't know who all reads my blog posts (it surprises me at times when I track my 'hits' and see that people all over the world read my blog.  It's not many people but they're certainly spread out.  Russia, Turkey, Australia, etc.)  So bear with me, my worldly, blog-reading brothers and sisters but I need to get even a little more personal tonight...........I need to speak to my church!

Anyone who knows me knows I love my church.  Tuckaseege Baptist Church, 511 Tuckaseege Road, Mt. Holly, North Carolina, USA.  We have this thing we do called "Love in Action".  The idea is to go out and show people the Love of Christ with our actions - by meeting their needs practically.  Whether it's a meal, a blanket or a ride to somewhere - someone from my church will make it happen for someone in need.  We take it very seriously too.  We have T-shirts that say "Love in Action", a facebook page dedicated to it - and a list of ministries that we partner with on a weekly basis - reaching outside of our church walls to lend a hand.  To be a hand - the Hands and Feet of Jesus.  We have this little thing we say a lot for social media posts saying "Sometimes Love in Action looks a lot like _______________".  Could be anything from changing a tire to watching someone's kids to scraping paint off an old picnic table.  We're not trying to show off, nobody's bragging or saying, "Hey!  Look at me helping someone!" We genuinely love on others because HE loves us. The T-shirts just make us sort of look like a team!

Our church is very good at reaching out to people on the streets, prisoners, shut ins, and hungry people.  It should have been no surprise to me that when I had a need it would be met.  It never occurred to me to ask the very "Love in Action" gang of church people that I'm apart of for help.  But I didn't.  My finances have been disastrous lately - I pray all the time about it saying things like "God, I know you parted the Red Sea for your servant Moses.  Could you possibly help me out with some rent money?"  The other day I was having a conversation with one of my friends from my Life Group (small group, community group, whatever you call yours). "Gas money or Power Bill" I joked as I pulled into the gas station.  "I guess my power will be cut off Monday."  I was laughing - but it was really no joke.  The power was due to be cut off several days before payday.  Without saying anything else about it - my friend had rallied the Life Group and paid my power bill by that night.  One of the girls even hacked into my account to find out how much I owed! (Crazy, stalker lifegroup friends!)  And that would have been more than enough.  But a few days later several of my life group ladies "blitzed" a grocery store and came to my house with many giant bags over flowing with food!!  How could they have known that my cabinet consisted of one can of enchilada sauce and some expired fruit cocktail?!  The Bible says in Luke 6:38, "Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap.  For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you".  Just a week earlier I had given away my last 6-pack of Ramen Noodles to a family that needed some assistance.  I will never take having food for granted again.  It's pretty much everywhere - until you don't have any and no money for any.  Then suddenly a loaf of bread that you didn't have to scrape up change for is like Manna from Heaven.  For me, it might as well have been Manna from Heaven.  It was a miracle - made possible by my church (the hands and feet of Jesus) who does what the Bible says in 1 John 3:18, "Let us not love with words but in actions and in truth".

And then tonight happened.  Tonight we were serving a meal and a sermon to the people at the Gastonia Street Ministries.  We've been going the 2nd Thursday of each month for the last couple of years.  We've nearly got it down to an art!  I don't want to say 'routine' - but it sort of just works out that way now. Tonight was all together different though.  We got a phone call during the meal service about an emergency back at the home of one of our team members.  And suddenly that little "Gang of Doers" sprang into action to rally around our Christian sister in her time of need.  By the time we rounded the corner of her street in our neighborhood, the road was lined with fire trucks and Tuckaseege bumper stickers.  The scene was bad.  It was.  But the first thing I spotted amid the flashing lights and chaos was love.  As a verb, love was spilling out all over the street in front of her home.  Before the first responders had even taken off their jackets - my church had my sweet friend taken care of.  All of our pastors were there - 2 of them even in super hero shirts (because they just both happened to be wearing super hero shirts today - it's how they roll).  Sunday school teachers, one of the firemen was a life-grouper, ex-veterinary technicians to take care of a pet bird, sisters from our prison ministry, our church brother Stephen Stephens (yes, that's really his name) who is just known for giving the BEST HUGS!  Within minutes she and her kids and her dog had a place to stay, new pajamas, any toothbrush, shampoo type thing they might need, breakfast lined up for morning and a solid plan to take care of that family for the next coming days.  Weeks, even.  As long as she needs help - the church is already planning to be there.  The Bible tells us that where ever two or more are gathered in Jesus name - the Holy Spirit is there as well.  He was there tonight - I felt Him.  Even in the face of this disaster - God was there.  And so was half the church and the entire Mt. Holly fire department - who saved the lives of two of her pets and saved her home from total destruction.

I guess at this point I'm rambling.  Perhaps that medication kept me from running on so much?!  I don't know.  But what a night to be un-medicated.  This blog post is likely not to get picked up by any publication - and that's fine.  At least I'm writing again.  I just wanted to tell you, dear reader, how awesome my church is.  But I don't think I can string the right words together to tell my church what they mean to me.  Thank you for the power bill.  Thank you for the groceries.  Thank you for loving people who live in the streets.  Thank you for encouraging me to love.  Thank you for showing our neighborhood tonight what a church is supposed to look like.  Thank you for accepting me - Antidepression Discontinuation Syndrome and all.  Thank you Stephen Stephens for the best hug I've ever had!  Thank you Jones Family for opening your home to our giant life group every week.  Thank you for loving me.  Thank you for loving my son.  Thank you for praying for us at every turn.  And thank you for being the good and faithful servants that you are.  Sometimes Love in Action looks like a random collection of people mixed together by God Himself to meet the practical needs of those in need.  It looks just like you, my beloved Tuckaseege.  Thank you for being Love in Action.

An Open Letter To All the Terrorists In My Cell Phone Contact List

An Open Letter To All the Terrorists In My Cell Phone Contact List,

I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I think they're on to you. Luckily a UK Newspaper alerted us before our big plans were foiled. I would have expected a news organization on this side of the pond to be all over news like this - but for whatever reason they just didn't 'see' it. Regardless...

I felt pretty sure the Government would never suspect a thing. I mean, living in a 1-light town, raising my kid on our safe little street, doing my work-a-day job and minding my own business; how in the world would they think to get up in my phone records?! But they did. They have deemed the grab of my - and millions of other American's - phone records as necessary to fight the war on terror. A war the government says is all but over.

The National Security Administration tells me not to worry. There is nothing improper going on here. Eric Holder and the Department of Justice says they're not using my records for anything - they just have them and will continue to have them for my own safety. He'll "look in to it", says Mr. Holder. Why should I doubt him? So don't you worry about anything, my Al-Qaeda terror cell contacts. Just don't call me for a few weeks! 

However, I do have cause to worry. By now they have probably uncovered our plans for my massive yard sale. That was supposed to be a secret! You know I was going to try and pull that off without a permit - under the guise of "I didn't know you needed one". But now they're surely on to me. I'll likely face heavy fines, be threatened by "the man" to shut down my operation or risk jail time. The IRS will come and tax me on the income we receive from selling Matthew's toys and some household trinkets. I cringe at the thoughts. They know I pray to Jesus. Because I receive the "One-Call" from church, they know I'm a Southern Baptist. They know that I ordered a copy of George Orwell's 1984. They know I voted for Romney. These things, in the face of our only-tolerant-when-it-suits-them-government, may very well be held against me - despite being the land of the 'free'.

Surely they'll use these things they've gleaned from my phone records to not only persecute me and my desire and RIGHT to freedom, but to track down terrorists the world over. So be mindful if you dial my Verizon-owned phone number - you are being tracked by the government. Yes, you might just be planning a Sunday School outing - but you also might be planning to fill up book bags with pressure cookers and blow up a gang of school children in the name of Ala. Who's to say? You? The Government? Our government has proven that it doesn't really matter what you say - it's what they think. So good luck with that. 

Also be aware that they know - just by the phone numbers I dial - that I am a conservative, Jesus-Loving, Gun Appreciating, Southern-born, America-Defending, born-free white woman who's not a great big fan of this over-reaching, socialist wanting government. So you, by calling me on the phone would likely be considered 'guilty by association'.

The bottom line is this, I just can't provide you any expectation of privacy if you call me again. You might try to text. Oh, wait. No. Don't text - try to email. Oh, wait. Department of Justice subpoenas email accounts also. Hey, try Facbook - no. Wait. I'm sure there's cyber-crime bots scanning our every word for 'triggers' or things that might cause them alarm. If you don't want the government to be on your trail, just don't contact me - or anyone else - at all. It's just not safe. You might try to wave if you drive by - just do be too obvious.

This will be my last contact with you, my cell phone crime ring. Surely before I walk away from this computer (plugged into the internet and likely tapped by Big Brother) they are likely to turn up the heat. I won't go down without a fight!! (Unless they try to deprive me of pasta or sugar - then I'm apt to see like a hungry bird!)

God Bless America - MY home sweet home. (For now anyway!)

IT'S WE THE PEOPLE - NOT YOU THE GOVERNMENT

From President Obama's speech yesterday:

"Journalists should not be at legal risk for doing their jobs.  Our focus must be on those who break the law.  I have raised these issues with the attorney general, who shares my concern.  So he has agreed to review existing DOJ guidelines governing investigations that involve reporters, and will convene a group of media organizations to hear their concerns as part of that review.  And I have directed the attorney general to report back to me by July 12th."

Our president must think we're all stupid.  The Attorney General (Eric Holder) is the one who signed the paper full of accusations and inflammatory nonsense that accused a man of being a SPY and putting National Security at risk, asking the judge to for-go the usual process in order to have access to the Fox Reporter's records.

When he investigates himself and then reports back to the president - what is he going to say?  Do you think for a minute he'll say - "Geez Mr. President, Barry, my old buddy, I was wrong and I committed a crime".  Nope.  Not very likely.  He can't say "I didn't know about that" (like he did with the AP Phone Records Grab) because he himself SIGNED the paper.  If the president does not demand a CRIMINAL INVESTIGATION (at the least the resignation of) his old pal Eric Holder then I contend the "REAL" conspiracy is not the Fox News Reporter but this whole administration.

First was the Benghazi cover up.  So as not to hurt his chances in the election, Obama not only downplayed the obvious act of terrorism, he outright lied when he said the attack was the result of some stupid You Tube Video.  Why would he do that?  Because he was in the middle of a campaign - a CLOSE campaign - saying that because "he" got rid of Bin Laden that we're all safer from terrorism and Al-Qaeda is all but gone.  He said that exact same thing to a group of people on a campaign stop in Las Vegas the very next day after Al-Qaeda supporters stormed our Embassy, killed our ambassador to Libya - and paraded his dead body around long enough for pictures to be taken of him slung over a man's shoulder.

4 Americans died as someone from our Government gave orders to stand down.  Then the State Department - Hilary Clinton and her pawns - LIED, LIED, LIED so much so they changed the talking points for the Obama Administration's mouth piece to go in front of the national media and LIE to the American People and BLAME AN AMERICAN FOR MAKING AN UGLY VIDEO ABOUT MUHAMMAD.  By the way... we all now no that it had nothing to do with any video protest - but the video maker is STILL IN JAIL.  Thank you Government!  May I have another?!  And Victoria Newland - the highest person (so far) who most likely changed the talking points - instead of being fired - is getting a promotion.  Assistant Secretary of State.  That is not even logical.

Then the IRS targeting right-leaning groups, dare I say HARASSING groups with words like "Tea Party" or "patriot" in their names.  Even auditing religious organizations like The Billy Graham Evangelical Association and Samaritan's Purse according to Franklin Graham himself.  Why?  So as not to hurt his chances in the election, this department under his watch - intimidated, targeted, harassed, asking for donor information and THEN targeting the donors and their companies, slowing up their process, costing them money for legal fees to fight off accusations and protect their organizations and businesses.  This was done in hopes that these "Anybody But Obama Supporters" would be silenced and just go away.  Unfortunately, it worked for some.  Fortunately many of them have come forward, shining a light on this BLATANT wielding of Government Power influencing the election.

And now this same department - the IRS - will be in charge of the Nation's Healthcare Program.  I sure hope they don't decide who gets treatment (instead of say, tax exempt status) based on who they voted for.

Then this trampling of the 1st amendment right to the press and CRIMINAL MISCONDUCT of the Department of Justice.  What's that about?  So as not to hurt his chances in the election, the Associated Press (the supposed 'standard' of the Press) was asked by this administration to hold off on running a story about a terror plot that was interrupted by our military.  And the AP obliged.  The government wanted to be the one to "announce this great terrorist take down - and dictate the information that got out there.  And the government grabbed the phone records of more than 100 phone lines and tried to find out how they were 'scooped'.

Once that got out - it was just a matter of time before others got out as well.  It was discovered that Fox News was a target of the Department of Justice, and one reporter in particular being labeled a criminal and a spy.  And there was grave threat to National Security in the case against the Fox reporter.  It was story about North Korea and it's idiot stick leader Kim Jung Un's reaction to sanctions.  He was mad.  Well, he's always mad.

So far not one meaningful person has been held accountable for any of these things.  THIS IS NUTS!  How can FREE AMERICA look the other way when even our election is marred in controversy?  When our freedoms and privacy is being infringed on by an power-drunk, too big, big brother government determined to keep us all under its rule.

We the People are NOT at the mercy of our US Government.  The Government works for us.  WE are/at least should be the BOSS.  Do not stand idly by and let this administration - or any administration - shred our Constitution and throw the pieces in our face.  Be heard.  Demand answers.  DEMAND THE TRUTH.  And DEMAND that those responsible (and the buck stops with Obama) be held accountable.

There is a "There there", Mr. President.  And we will find it.  And you will be held accountable.  Your legacy will be one filled with lies, crimes, over reaching, power hungry distain for this Great Nation of ours.  Good Luck with that.

She Sends Me Rainbows

It's been a little more than a year since my mom passed away.  392 1/2 days to be exact.  Not that I'm counting.  This year March roared in like a lion alright - it roared out also.  The anniversary of her passing came and I thought the day might kill me.  I didn't utter the first word about it.  I didn't need or want sympathy and I was trying very hard not to make some sort of shrine out of her death.  I certainly didn't want to acknowledge the single worst day of my life.  It's the days like that that I need my mom the most.  She would have called me to check in on me.  Just to make sure I was ok.  But I wasn't going to hear from her so I just put my head into my new work that day and got through it.

The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those crushed in spirit ~ Psalm 34:18

It's the nightfall that's so hard.  When I'm tired my mind starts to wander off to places I wish I could go.  Like home, or back to the 70's when everyone was alive and we were a family, or Heaven, to name just a few.  I climb into her sheets, on the bed that used to be hers, restless and worried.  I close my eyes and pray.  "Dear God, could you give my mom a kiss for me and make sure she's doing ok?  I know Heaven is nice - but I'm sure my mother misses me.  Maybe You can let her know when she can expect me so she doesn't have to worry?  Could you tell my family I said hello?  I miss them, Lord.  A girl needs her mom.  I know I shouldn't question you, God, but I don't understand Your schedule.  It doesn't make sense to take them all away.  Leaving my mom here with me for a little while longer would have been the logical thing.  Right?"

......By day the Lord commands his steadfast love, and at night his son is with me, a prayer to the God of my life.  ~ Psalm 42:5

I toss, I turn, I look at the clock.  I pull my extra pillow up under my chin and give it a little hug.  It's sort of strange, yes, but it comforts me in the darkness.  "Embrace me, Lord".  I continue to pray.  I'm scared and alone here.  Enclose me in the sleeves of Your billowing robe.  Surely I can find some peace in the layers of Your soft garments?  My God, hear my cries.  Bend down from Heaven and kiss the top of my head.  Calm me with Your loving voice.  Just like a mother runs to the aid of her child - awakened by something and crying in the night, come in and check on me.  I'm just like a scared child, Father.  And I need You to tell me everything's going to be ok.  Just stay here with me until  I fall asleep."  

.....He will have compassion according to the abundance of his steadfast love; for he does not willingly afflict of grieve the children of men.  ~ Lamentations 3:32

My dreams can haunt me.  Sometimes I have heard my mom's voice so clearly calling my name that I would get up out of bed and look for her.  But I'm always only dreaming.  And I always wake up.  Sometimes not only do I fall asleep sad and worried, but I wake up in the middle of the night still sad and more exhausted.  And I pray some more.  "Please God, I'm begging You.  Please just bring the peace.  I think if I could just stop dreaming, maybe I'll be ok.  Stay here with me just a little longer, Lord.  Rock me to peaceful slumber."  And finally the sleep comes, turning the night into daylight......


.....Weeping may stay for the night, but rejoicing comes in the morning. ~ Psalm 30:5

Morning finally comes.  Before the sun comes up I make my way into the kitchen to make my coffee.  I enjoy the smell of coffee brewing and I look forward to that first cup!  I can hear the birds singing right outside my back door.  There's a large bush right off the back step that seems to be home to a feathered family.  She sings so sweetly, waking up her babies for their breakfast.  I open the door and let my cat in.  He's always happy to see me, rubbing up against my leg and meowing at me a catful 'good morning'.  The air outside is crisp and fresh, just right.  It's peaceful and quiet.

My kitchen window faces east in just such a way that I can see the sun just as it starts to peek over the trees.  It sends orange shards of light shooting upward, bouncing on the pillowy clouds.  The sky is lighting afire in a reddish haze.  "My God, what an artist You are!", I pray.  Thank You for the sun, thank You for letting me wake up to see it!  It's a beautiful day and it reminds me of the hope I have.  I'm grateful for the daylight and grateful for God's mercy.  The warmth of the sun reminds me of my blessings, it reminds me that yes, Jesus loves me.  I'm not alone and there is purpose in my life.

I drink my coffee from my mom's cup and I think of mornings with her, drinking our coffee together and talking about the garden plans.  It makes me smile.  The sun creeps slowly upward, waking the yard with its light.  The little squirrels and the early birds break the motionless early morning and the dew glistens like diamonds spread over the grass.  My heart is happy - it's a beautiful day.  Thank you Lord, for the daylight.

On the day my mom died the skies over Charlotte filled with a massive rainbow.  It was such a thing of beauty someone's photograph of it even made the news.  I called it Mama's Rainbow - as far as I was concerned she sent that rainbow to let us know she made it home ok!  That night I went to her home to get some things I would need - her clothes for a funeral, important papers, etc.  And I grabbed a little sun catcher from her kitchen window.  Clearly it wasn't something I needed but I wanted it more than anything else in the whole house.  

When the sun came up that next morning the light shined through the little sun-catcher and sent the beams of color stretching along my kitchen and even down into the hall way.  The colorful lights were everywhere, filling up the rooms and rising up the walls with the sun.  It was my mom saying "Hi", I figured, and I walked around in the light.  

Then your light will break forth like the dawn, and your healing will quickly appear; then your righteousness will go before you, and the glory of the Lord will be your rear guard. ~ Isaiah 58:8

Not one day has the little window trinket failed to catch the sun.  And every morning when I see the little spots of color start to shine and creep up the walls I think of my mom.  She's basking in the light of the lamb, praising her Savior, beautiful and alive!  She thinks of me every morning and she sends me rainbows.  And until the night falls again I'm embraced in my mother's light and I'm at peace.

The Greatest Crime Ever Committed

If you're not my Facebook Friend ... you might not know that I've been writing some blog posts for a website called Crime In Charlotte .com.  Well, it's true.  Usually we write all about crime stories.  But today I got to write about the Crucifixion!   I hope it stays on the website - but if by chance it has to come down, I thought I'd post it here too!  Happy Easter!

It’s Easter Sunday.  It’s the unofficial start of spring and a day to show off your newest, pastel-colored church clothes.  From singing “Here Comes Peter Cottontail” and finding Easter Eggs to a Sunrise Service followed by a dinner of ham and potato salad with the family, there’s a little something for everyone on Easter.  For me, and millions of other Christians worldwide, it’s the day we celebrate the resurrection of the Lord Jesus Christ.

Because today is the day of Resurrection, while in church this morning, I couldn’t help but think about the crucifixion.  The act of crucifixion as a form of punishment was probably the most brutal of all methods of executions.  The ancient Romans were masters of the death tactic – and used anyone hanging on a cross as a lesson to anyone watching.  “Act right, or you’ll be next”.

Ever since Cain killed his brother Abel in a fit of jealous rage, there’s been crime and punishment in the world.  God was the judge.  He imparted His sentences fairly and without bias.  And usually as a result of a sentence served the offender learned a great lesson and was considered reformed.  Many an examples of this can be found throughout the pages of the Old Testament.  But eventually it seemed like crime had run amuck and by the time Mary gave birth to a baby boy in a manger – the world appeared to be in need of a savior.

I’m not here to preach to you or write up some kind of Bible study.  I want to talk about crime and punishment – back in the day.  I believe the greatest crime ever committed was the one that landed Jesus in the hands of the Roman executioners.  His punishment for the crime was purposely humiliating.  They shoved a crown made from thorns down on His head and paraded Him through the streets of a hateful crowd.  They spat on Him, laughed at Him and cursed Him.  They beat Him brutally, whipping Him until His flesh ripped open and was hanging from His body.  He was forced to drag His own cross up the hill to His ultimate punishment.  He was sentenced to a slow and agonizing death by nailing Him to a cross.  He hung there by the spikes driven through His hands and feet for 6 long hours, suffocating and bleeding to death before He finally died.

So what was this greatest crime?   What crime did Jesus commit?  None.  Not one.  He was falsely accused by the religious leaders.  He was betrayed by one of His best friends and taken into custody by the guards.  He was brought before a counsel and tried.  He was convicted of blasphemy for saying He was the Son of God.  He was then at the mercy of the Roman Governor for sentencing.  The governor couldn’t see that Jesus had done anything wrong but was swayed by the large and unruly crowd screaming for Jesus’ blood.  And just like that – Jesus’ fate was sealed and He died on a cross for a crime He didn’t commit.  The crime was the rush to judgment, the mockery and torture of an innocent man.  At least, and fortunately for us, the story doesn’t end there!

But let’s say Jesus was just a regular guy, going around minding his own business.  He was a nice guy and stayed out of trouble.  We worked for a living, had a few friends and loved his mom.  But living in that part of the world was hard back then.  Laws were very strict and punishment was severe.  No one was free to worship or live the way they wanted, taxes were high, crime was rampant and the government was a tyrant.  It didn’t take much for an innocent man to die at the hands of a corrupt government or some over-zealous guard.  And it didn’t really matter.  Mercifully, we’ve come a long way.

As this Holy Week is coming to an end, I find myself grateful for many things.  I’m mostly grateful for the hope that comes as a result of that crucifixion 2000 years ago.  But I’m also grateful for the many lessons we’ve learned as a result of the Easter story. 

There’s still crime – lots of crime.  And there’s punishment.  But the punishment fits the crime.  (In this country, at least!)  Since the time of Jesus, many innocent people have been punished – even executed – for crimes they had nothing to do with.  Unfortunately it happens.  But now-a-days it’s the result of mistakes or someone being at the wrong place at the wrong time.  Thankfully we now live in a society that values humanity and recognizes the importance of civility.  We aren’t snatched off the streets, accused, tried, convicted and punished without cause.  We have freedoms of speech and religion and we’re free to pursue happiness. 

And then in case we do happen to commit a crime, we’re handled gently and treated with respect.  We’re given ample opportunity to defend ourselves, tried fairly and given resources to reform.  And even in those cases where the death penalty is imposed, the government and the guards take great care to make the death row criminal as comfortable as possible.

And finally, there’s forgiveness.  We can forgive because we’re forgiven.

My point is this… stay out of trouble!  We don’t to have to write about you here on Crimes in Charlotte .com!  But if you ever do find yourself on the wrong end of the law, no matter your crime you can be thankful I’ll never have to write a story like this about you! 

Whatever your traditions are, I hope you’ve had a wonderful weekend.  Happy Easter from all of us at Crime In Charlotte .com!

The Mail Room Mission Field

A couple of years ago I was stubbornly unemployed for almost 9 months - 3/4ths of a year.  The economy was tanking and unemployment was higher than ever.  For every job I applied for - so did 300 other people.  I couldn't even get interviews or return calls.  It was when I was overlooked for a job at Pet Smart (Hello!!  Pet Smart?!) that I figured I was in trouble.  Because I had officially quit my last job ("Because I had to take care of my child" wasn't a good enough reason for the government) I was unable to draw any unemployment.  I lived off a little tax refund check, some monthly child support and whatever the Good Lord provided for 9 months.

It was hard.  It really was.  But looking back now I can't complain.  I spent my extra free time getting closer to God.  I depended on Him for everything and He provided for us at every turn.  It seems like we had everything we needed - and even some of the things we wanted!  I had the time to volunteer at the local food bank a few times and I got to go with my church on some of our little mission projects.  Matthew and I had the best summer ever, spending lots of quality time together at the local public pool or at Carowinds taking advantage of our seasons passes.  I was also available to take care of my mom if she needed me.  I didn't know it then - but she was quickly heading towards the end of her life on earth.  She needed me a lot.  And I was able to be there for her.  What a blessing unemployment turned out to be.

The more time I spent with God the easier it was for me to trust that He would take care of us in every way.  I completely surrendered my job search to him as every 'opportunity' I tried to force left me more depressed and defeated.  I quit looking for employment altogether.  One Sunday morning in church I was standing in the choir loft near the end of service.  The pastor was praying.  During his prayer, my heart started to cry out to God.  "Bless me, God", I pleaded.  "So I can be a blessing to others".  "Give me the job that You would have me do, Lord", I asked.  "And where ever you send me I'll do it the job the best that I can and I will always work to glorify You".

When church was over I was coming down the steps of the choir loft.  A woman who's name I didn't know but recognized as a visitor at the church was coming up the steps.  She stopped me and said "I heard you were looking for a job".

Well yes I was, I told her.  She went on to tell me that a friend of hers worked at a company in Charlotte.  She didn't know exactly what they did or if they even needed anyone - but if I sent her my resume she would send it on over to her friend.  I sent the church visitor my resume later that day and I didn't think much else about it.

The next day her friend called me and told me she had gotten my resume and I was exactly what they were looking for!  "What is it that you're looking for?"  I asked her, realizing that I didn't even know what sort of business it was.

They were looking for a person to work in the mail room of a Homeowners Association Management Company.  How I was "exactly what they were looking for", I have no idea.  Nothing on my resume was even close to anything mail room-related, I thought.  She asked if I could come for an interview the next day and I said "Yes!"

The place was a long way from my house.  It was only going to be part time and not much money per hour.  Had I seen the job in the want-ads I don't think I would have even applied for it, as I had no mail room experience or any desire to get mail room experience.  But I contemplated my prayer telling God that where ever He sent me I would go.

My interview went very well and a couple days later, after nine months of unemployment, wondering where the power bill money was going to come from, deciding between gas money and groceries and many meals of Ramen Noodles with butter - I was employed!!  I realized right away that getting that job had nothing to do with me.  It was a gift and it might as well have been wrapped in paper and adorned with a big, shiny bow from God Himself!

I think that understanding God's plan for your life is nearly impossible!  Sometimes you just have to go with the flow and believe that He knows what He's doing!  The mail room girl - I didn't get it.  At first.  But it wasn't long before I realized what an answered prayer it really was!  Right away I found Jesus-loving Christians in the place and there was even a Wednesday morning prayer group!  If Jesus was there then I knew I was in the right place!  And because I spent 9 months robbing Peter to pay Paul and paying my utility bills in order of which one was next to be disconnected, I would have gladly taken ANY job!  I wasn't digging a ditch (not that digging ditches is not a noble profession) and I was super happy with the awesome opportunity I had been provided!

Because I felt like God Himself lined up this job for me, I looked at it like I was walking into a mission field to do God's work.  I opened hundreds and hundreds of pieces of mail everyday and I would randomly pray for the people as I opened their envelopes.  Over the last 18 months of opening mail I've gotten countless "Tracts" - little pamphlets explaining the way to Salvation through Jesus Christ.  I would pray for those folks and their ministries.  We've gotten mail from disgruntled people - and I would especially pray for them!  There was a lady in one of our older communities who sent her check in every month.  According to her account she was a widow.  Her handwriting was very shaky and barely legible.  I thought maybe she had Parkinson's Disease.  Each month the writing on her check got worse and worse.  Every time I opened her mail I prayed for her.  It wasn't that long ago when we received a letter from her son, saying they were putting her home on the market and were trying to get her into an assisted living center.  A month or so later her checks stopped coming.  I was sad, as I'd grown to love that little lady and her shaky handwriting.  I spent a lot of time "just opening mail" but I also prayed during much of it.  I was close to God in my little mail room.

The mail room wasn't the only 'mission field'.  I went over to the post office everyday.  In spending a few minutes a day over the last 18 months picking up the mail I got to know the two ladies who worked there.  They always had church playing on the radio - and we've had countless small conversations on how great God is!  One of the ladies cried with me on my first day back to work after my mother died - and lifted me up in prayer right there in the post office.  That day was one of the darkest days of my whole life - and God put postal worker Monica on the job that day to remind me of the Joy that only comes from the Lord.

There was a lady standing behind me in line one morning at the post office.  She had on a pink sweat shirt and a pink hat with a pink ribbon embroidered on the front.  She looked like she'd been crying.  "Are you ok?" I asked.  She told me that she would be ok, but that she had just come from the hair salon.  She had been going through treatment for breast cancer and her hair had started to fall out.  "I just had it all shaved off", she continued.  She took off her hat and revealed to me her bald head.  "You're the first person to see it!"  she said, starting to cry.  "What do you think?", she laughed through tears.  By then I was crying myself and told her I thought she was beautiful.  I asked the lady if I could give her a hug and she said she needed that more than anything in the world.  I embraced the stranger and she cried in my arms.  I was grateful for that opportunity.  I think of her often and I hope that she's doing well.

I could write on and on about the blessing the mail room has been for me.  At the least is was a bi-monthly paycheck that fed my kid.  It was an answer to my mother's prayer - as she always hoped I'd find something that I liked and somewhere that would 'understand' if my son got sick and I needed to be home with him.  It provided some health insurance for me - something I didn't have before.  I found some new friends and a group of prayer warriors.  But at the most it was a God-led change of direction for my life and a specific stepping stone on the path that He planned for me before time began.  Is that a little dramatic for a mail room job?  Maybe so.  But that's how it feels.  I loved that job and I treated it like it was the most important position in the place!  I also did the job remembering the promise I made to God - that I work at whatever job He gave me to glorify Him.  I took pride in the work I did and I enjoyed it.  I've been given a new position at my company and I moved into my new office on Friday.  It sounds silly - but I'm a little sad about leaving the mail room behind!  So as I head into my new mission field I will continue to pray for the little mission field in the mail room and hope that the new mail room person loves it as much as I did!

Straight From Hell, Beelzebug Flew Into My House. A True Story

Lately I've come up with about 7 or 8 different ideas to write about.  All of them I'm working on but none of them have I been able to finish.  I'm hoping to knock one out tonight ... hopefully!  And so, in the meantime, I thought I'd post up a true story about the time a bug flew into my house!  I haven't been the same since...

I'm not a great big fan of bugs. If I see one I don't generally scream like a little girl and run away flapping my hands wildly over my head but in general, I don't like them. That's for sure. When it got dark outside tonight I turned the porch light on so the little neighbor girl could see to walk home. The light's been on a good hour and that's plenty of time for all the winged insects to draw near. What is it with the bugs and the lights? You can hear them banging into the glass of our front door, colliding into each other as they dive-bomb the light fixture. I remember when I was a kid one of our friends had a bug zapper. You'd hear the thing fry bugs all night long. In the morning you could look on the ground below the glowing deliverer of death to any bug that dared answer its gleaming call and see hundreds, if not thousands of sizzled and lifeless bug carcasses heaped in a pile. To put it simply, that was just gross. Oh, so back to tonight...

It's an unfortunate placement, a porch light is, right next to the front door. You need it to see who's knocking or to allow whoever's leaving your home to see the stairs so as not to fall and break a bone or twist an ankle. But after an hour or so of the light being on there seems to be a party of flying insects swarming just above head level and right at the main entrance of your house.

So Matthew's little friend had been gone for a bit and he needed to go out to the car to get something. He opened the door and I assume the back draft (or whatever it's called when you open the door and it sort of sucks air from the outside into the inside) created a vacuum and with that flew in the largest, gnarliest, most heinous winged spawn of Satan I have ever seen. It probably weighed 4 pounds and it's thick and brown exoskeleton seemed to be some sort of armor. I can't be for sure if it was intentional but it swooped down just over Matthew's head, it's flapping wings buzzing his precious blonde hair. Matthew let out a yell and dived into the floor covering his head with his little arms. I was caught off guard but as soon as I gained a little composure tried to devise some sort of plan. Matthew screamed at me to "GET HIM! GET HIM" which only made me anxious. "Stop screaming, Matthew!" I said. "I'll get him!" 

My original and poorly, albeit quickly thought up plan was to hit the bug with something, perhaps stun him enough to get him out of the house. I grabbed the first thing I could find - a lint roller - and I stood there trying to decipher his flight pattern armed with my sticky weapon. The nasty bug just banged himself against my ceiling and he was so quick motioned there was no way I would be able to get close enough to club him with (or stick him to) my lent roller. Realizing Matthew was still in a fetal position on the floor, I got him up and sent him onto his room. "Turn your TV on the Disney Channel and shut the door", I said. "Don't come out till I tell you... Mama's got this". And he hurried down the hall and slammed his door.

So back to the first bug that I thought might have a real shot at killing me, I surveyed my surroundings. I tried to shoo him with a dish towel to which he scoffed (if bugs do that). I was going to bash him over the head with my broom but figured I'd tear the house down trying to connect. The thing just erratically flew all over my living room periodically coming straight at me, causing me to let out screams and thrash about and dust myself off just in case he was somehow attached to me. Occasionally I'd open the front door and just hope he had the capacity to understand the way to save himself would be to fly out the opened door.  No luck.  Eventually, the death-beetle landed on the corner of my prized Velvet Elvis painting which was clearly crossing the line. No bug was going to lyte on my dear Elvis Presley hand painted on smooth, black velvet and get away with it.  So I grabbed a cup and a piece of paper. My plan was to put the cup over him, gently slide the piece of paper under him and trap him in the cup. And it worked - or at least I thought it did. I headed for the door with my captured creature planning to throw the cup and all out into the yard and slam the door behind me. But then I heard the buzzing. It wasn't coming from the cup at all but from the shirt I was wearing. I let out a blood-curdling, primal screech and lost my religion there for a minute as I did what only can be described as some sort of Tribal Ritual looking dance around my living room just trying to get the thing off me. Matthew yelled from his room "Are you ok?" and then I heard his door lock.

Mommy was not ok. This flying beast commissioned by the Dark One himself had just molested me. I felt like I needed a bath and a nerve pill to get the feeling of his his jagged little legs off my body. I had had it with this bleeping bug. I was trying to somehow just deliver him back into the outside world but no. He wanted to set up shop on my Velvet Elvis and hurl himself into my body with his full force? Well it was on. I called Mike (my vicious killing machine of a cat) into the house. He wanted to play rough? Well let's see how he would like to have his wings ripped off and then be batted around like a toy. And I was going to gladly watch the infliction of torturous  doom. It only took a second for Mike to notice the hellish invader. His eyes fixed on him when the bug finally landed in the blinds. Mike slowly and quietly climbed the couch and got into stealth mode, poised to pounce. A little flick of his puffed up tail and suddenly Mike let out a little chatter of a battle cry and hurled himself into the blinds with a force that nearly pulled the shades out of the windows. And the bug flew away again casually banging himself against the ceiling. Mike got himself untangled from the bent and crooked blinds and decided he'd rather go outside to play. He stood at the door and waited on me to open it. Another great idea flew right out the window. Too bad it didn't take the bug with it.

So that was the end of the messing around. I had to get this thing out of the house or there would be no sleep for me. Eventually the bug seemed to become confused (I'm assuming) and maybe a little tired.  He decided to take a bit of a rest on the ceiling. He parked it and hung out there for a few minutes. I figured if I was going to get him it was going to be now. Against my better judgement I picked up my broom again and stood there like a ninja for a minute just trying to get up my nerve. I figured I had one good shot to kill him. Anything less than perfect was just going to piss him off. I took a big breath and with a mighty swing gave it my all and whacked that bug as hard as I could wield a broom against the ceiling! And he started to fly. Mercifully he was flying all dazed and crooked. He landed on the floor and I must have beat that bug 20 times with my broom. I never did kill him but I took away his ability to go somewhere. There was nothing left but the matter of scooping up Beelzebug and sending him back through the portal from which he must've come. I was still scared. I've watched about 1 too many scary movies where the monster gets completely killed about 8 different times and just when you think the movie's over he leaps up swinging a blood-covered butcher knife and scares the living poo out of you. I grabbed my power bill and my cable bill and I figured I'd use one piece of mail to sort of push him onto the other piece of mail to carry him outside. I've got to give the bug some credit. Even after being beaten 27 times with a broom not only was he still alive but he had enough strength to cling to my carpet.  Not even the really thick Duke Power bill was strong enough to pry him off my floor. But my Bissell 12-Amp Power Force Vacuum Cleaner was. And with that the bug was gone. (After I removed the only half full vacuum cleaner bag from my vacuum, tied it up in a grocery bag that I threw into a large garbage bag and then threw into the trash can outside).

So my point is this... If you ever want to come over here for a visit at night, you're more than welcomed to come. But you might want to bring a flash light to navigate my steps. Because unlike Motel 6, I WILL NOT leave the light on for you!