Tag: christian

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Faith that Conquers

14670609_543510342509270_3669100487200880762_nOne of my favorite songs that has sustained me for years is FAITH, by Vanessa Bell Armstrong. Oh, there are many imitators, perpetrators and duplicators, but no other version can compare to her rendition. This recording is poor in quality but her voice transcends and more than makes up for it, somewhat reminiscent of Aretha Franklin. I rise with every swell of her voice, my spirits lift with her riffs until it culminates in:

Faith, that sees the invisible!
Faith, that expects the incredible!
Faith that can conquer anything!

Oh, to have THAT kind of faith! I long for it and reach for the faith of our fathers, which kept them during dark times. Faith to see my future, afar off, as Abraham did, even though it had yet to be realized. To believe God and count it to Him for righteousness, believing in His promises, that He would do just what He said. Not that I have attained, but I’m getting there. And I realize now, that it would have taken some time for Abram to get there, too. He may have stumbled at times, taken a few bad turns, or even wondered if God had forgotten the promise or if possible, reneged. When Abram found himself waiting on a son for so long that he thought it was humanly impossible for even God to deliver, he and Sarah agreed to have a child through a surrogate. That was a faltering of faith. But God came through eventually. When Abram’s wife was taken from him TWICE, any thinking person (as I’m sure Abram was) would have thought – maybe I shouldn’t have gone this way. He would have questioned, at least, if he made a wrong turn somewhere. But God used those occasions to enrich Abram. By the time God asked Abraham to give his only son as sacrifice, the father of faith was staunch in his belief. He went to obey so thoroughly that an angel had to stay his hand. And so it is with us. We’ll get there. Don’t dismay. The more He does, the more we know He will do. He will not leave us to our own devices. How do I know? Because of what He’s already done. On this, I hang my hat  and my faith. And know, I can conquer anything.

Be blessed,

Loria

Take a listen!

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Moses’ Generation

Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. MLK

O’ say can you see … Most folks, even the most patriotic of us, don’t realize that this is more than the opening verse of our national anthem. It’s actually a question. Colin Kaepernick has gotten himself in a fresh load of trouble for saying what he sees. Until that day, no one cared or noticed that he was African American. He certainly wasn’t on my radar, as I don’t watch football. One commentator actually stated outright that CK wasn’t black (for which he later apologized). Oh, but he is, and he proudly displayed his tall afro at the next football game so that there could be no doubt. He is black and, more importantly, he is identifying himself with the struggle. Bravo.

My daughter and I had a conversation about why he and actor Jesse Williams (also half black) would come down on this side of the argument, given that they have families who are not wholly black and may have even had a privileged background. I speculated that it was because they, perhaps even more than some of us who fully identify with the race, may have had negative experiences which made them see the differences between how white America and black America are being treated. It could be something as simple as being looked at a little differently when in a public outing because they’re obviously not like the rest of the family. Actresses Halle Berry and Lisa Bonet, both of mixed heritage, stated in interviews that their white mothers were the recipients of dirty looks while escorting their black child. So yes, they are black enough and may have more of an ax to grind because they see, firsthand, the inequities. Williams and Kaepernick are more than qualified to speak on our behalf.

But how many of those who are the product of biracial parentage can actually step outside of the perceived safety of their family, go against the grain, swim upstream, and rage against the very machine of which they may, if only by association, receive beneficial treatment? Not many, I think, for it is a very courageous thing to do. It’s to bite the hand that feeds you and not care for the consequences. You will likely be hated for your effort, as we see in the case of CK. Instead of pretending that all is well, which he could have continued to do, he used his position to take a stand against injustice. He has brought more attention to our plight eloquently, non-violently and in a way that is undeniably effective. And now other athletes are joining in the fight.

Even President Obama has addressed Kaepernick’s stand, stating that the football player is doing what all of our young people should be doing, engaging in the democratic process. Yes, this generation should be outraged about the things that don’t make sense and work to CHANGE them. It’s their world, too. We celebrate people around the world when they take a stand, venerating them even if it results in their death, as in the case of the epic unknown protester in Tiananmen Square. But when Iesha Evans took a similar stance against police brutality in America, she was arrested. It’s shameful that we, who routinely call other nations to the carpet, would ourselves need policing.

Today, I considered Moses, who stepped outside the comfort of his palace life and changed the future of his people. It couldn’t have been an easy choice, considering all he would lose. I imagine he must have thought about it for some time, watching his brothers and sisters be mistreated on a regular basis. Unfortunately, it’s a sad reality that those who are in power have a tendency to abuse such. After some time, it’s actually considered a normal part of life, not wrong. But not to Moses; one day he snapped as he witnessed an Egyptian beating a Hebrew slave. All of that festering resentment suddenly boiled over and Moses reacted in the strongest way possible to right the wrong. He committed murder to vindicate his kinsman and put himself on the side of the Israelites.

Many fellow Americans are supporting CK. With their money they’re taking a stand. Sales of his jersey have skyrocketed. Because we’re tired of it all. Let’s put an end to this foolishness. I am disheartened by the misguided folks who have deified the national anthem at the expense of the lives of our citizens. Let your passion, instead, drive you to enter the fight and wave your flag until true liberty and justice is a benefit enjoyed by all. And to my Christian sisters and brothers who have come down on the opposite side of the debate, I simply implore you to think for yourselves. Don’t give in to mob mentality. Seek God for true direction so that you can be sure that you’re truly on the right side. I’ll leave you with a scripture a friend posted this morning which blessed me:

Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, “This is the way; walk in it.” (Isaiah 30:21)

So my answer to the question: Oh say can you see? Yes. I can and do see. My eyes are wide open. And I’ma need you to get it together America.

Be blessed,

Loria

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Joseph and the Chocolate Factory

Gene Wilder Willie Wonka
In memory of Gene Wilder

“But as it is written, Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him.” 1 Corinthians 2:9

When I was still a young girl, my brother, Joe, embarked on a journey of The Sandlot variety. It was epic. For years we’d heard rumors of a chocolate factory nearby. It was the legend that made children salivate. Chocolate. Factory. Just the words conjured images of confections out of our wildest dreams – like a Santa’s workshop for chocolate. One day Joe and his friends announced, “We’re going to find the chocolate factory.” Ooooh. Our eyes got big. That they would even contemplate the journey was fantasy, let alone attempt it. It was daring and adventurous. The group set out like Littlefoot and friends from The Land Before Time to do, what seemed, the impossible.

We didn’t tell our mothers, my sister and I, nor did the other girls, what the boys were up to. But back then, mothers expected you to be back home when the streetlights came on. So by the time it was full dark, my mother began to worry. Before she could raise the full alarm, though, Joe was back. In his hand, he carried a red square bucket (similar to the chitterling buckets seen in supermarkets). Melted dark liquid lay in its bottom. CHOCOLATE! We whooped and crowed at the success of their venture and dipped our fingers in it, licking it off our fingers. We paid rapt attention as my brother told how this was merely a portion of the original score, as he had eaten quite a bit of it on the way home. For years to come, I would think of his story and wonder just where the chocolate factory lay. I did have an idea of the general vicinity, for whenever I drove to a certain part of town, the scent of chocolate in the air would betray its presence. Instantly, I’d be transported to that childhood memory.

The funny thing is, I’m not a great fan of chocolate. I only eat it in certain applications – like with nuts (especially with caramel) or on cake. Still, even now, that scent can get me riled. So, imagine my pleasure and surprise while I’m driving into work one day and take a different route to avoid traffic. The smell assailed my nostrils – more tantalizing and pungent than Garrett’s caramel and cheese popcorn mix. It was strong and very close. I craned my neck in each direction, eager to learn the location. Just to know, at last. Maybe then, I’d feel like I’d completed the journey, too. (I’m a terrible Chicagoan, I know – I didn’t know where the Sears/Willis Tower was located until I worked next door, LOL) And there it was, right in front of me. A beige, non-descript building with a sign that read, Blommers Chocolate Company. WOW.

I thought it ironic that I could be down the street from this iconic place and not even know it. I was looking at a piece of my history, a page out of my childhood. Proof that Joe’s story was real. It occurred to me then, the implications of what it could mean. I look for God in everything – from the secular to the sacred, the ridiculous and the sublime. I recalled a dream I once had, coincidentally, of chocolate. It was of my favorite cake that my mother used to bake – yellow cake with chocolate icing. The triangular slice was so huge that my hand could hardly contain it. My hand was stretched to the limit and I could barely open my mouth wide enough to take a bite. When I told my friend, who is a believer in dreams, she interpreted it thusly: “It means something good is coming your way. Chocolate is dessert, decadent. It represents the best things in life. You’re about to be blessed!” She was right. I received a promotion and my own office soon after that.

As I think on that dream, chocolate on the wind has come to mean more than the distant memory of Joe’s adventure. It has become an omen for me of good things to come. It means something good is nearby – maybe even around the corner or up the street. It could be right in front of me. When I catch that scent now, it bring a smile to my face every time, because it reminds me that I’m upwind of wonderful blessings that may not be seen but are surely in within my reach. Good things are on their way. The wind fortells it 😉 God has great things in store for me.

Be blessed,

Loria

Originally published on: Dec 3, 2014

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Inheritance

ac13fa2205eceebf9a77059e9ce698d7‘See, the LORD your God has placed the land before you; go up, take possession, as the LORD, the God of your fathers, has spoken to you. Do not fear or be dismayed.’ Deuteronomy 1:21

I chugged the liter of water down, straight from the bottle, almost not stopping until I’d finished the entire thing. My friends looked on with disbelief, eyes wide, brows raised at the small amount that remained. I had good reason to be thirsty. I’d stood out in the hot summer sun for nearly a half hour with no shelter on a concrete parking lot as I waited for them to show, LOL! I was a little chagrined that I’d not thought to ask anyone if they wanted anything from the smoothie bar in the mall on that Sunday afternoon. Blame it on my dehydrated state. I drained the rest of the bottle.

“Wow,” said one. “You really WERE thirsty!” We all laughed. It was true. And then she added a phrase of which I reminded her, “Not a sip, not a swallow, but the whole darn bottle!” That comment has stayed with me ever since. I think God is using it to show me something about following through on the vision he has given me. The goals I’ve made for myself, I must reach. Coming up short is not an option. I shall continue on with determination and perseverance until I have accomplished what I’ve set out to do.

We know the Israelites were God’s chosen people and He made a promise that He would lead them to a land flowing with milk and honey. He did, but not without some bumps along the way. Once the fledgling nation arrived on the scene – after witnessing miracles of walking across the red sea on dry land, being led by a pillar of cloud by day and fire by night – they were presented with a dilemma. Did they have the courage to take the land God had promised them? Fear stood between them and taking hold of their inheritance. They were counted unworthy of entering into the Promised Land because they failed to ACT as if they believed He would do what He said. So once God chooses you, there is a responsibility upon you to follow through. You must do your part. If you have faith in the One who brought you thus far, you must have the fortitude to act on it.

After they’d entered the Promised Land, the Israelites couldn’t occupy it in full, immediately. God told them he would drive out the nations before them slowly so that the land wouldn’t become overgrown and taken over by beasts. So it took some time. His people camped on one side of the Jordan, not fully realizing their inheritance. They’d only successfully conquered enough area for two and a half tribes so there remained “yet very much land to be possessed.” (Joshua 13:1) God then ordered Joshua to divide the rest of the land into nine and a half territories and encouraged the tribes to make each their own. He said to the Israelites: I’ve given you the land. Be brave and TAKE IT!

My recent book signing for Immaculate was a resounding success (pictures to follow)! I’m so thankful for every opportunity and every person who came out, purchased a book and helped us to celebrate. I feel like we’re still on the edge, though. The dream has not been fully realized. We’ve got a ways to go and our work is cut out for us. But I believe in what God told me and I’m not stopping until I see it through to fruition. I’m finding that God can give you a dream, a passion and a desire to do something, be someone and to live a better life. But He doesn’t always plop it in your lap like on the Monopoly game where you find out a dead uncle left you money and you’re suddenly rich. Sometimes, he places the opportunity before you and you have to be brave enough to reach for it.

I’ve heard it said that the human brain is capable of extraordinary things and that we only use a small portion of that which our brain is actually capable. I think it’s the same with our other abilities, as well. We only do a smidgen of what we are able to truly do. Fear can keep us from accomplishing all that we are created to do, just as in the case of the Israelites. Sometimes, we need that extra push from God, that encouragement, telling us to take possession of our inheritance. How long will we sit on the periphery of our destiny, not fully occupying our given territory? I had a conversation with my son recently which gave me the confirmation I needed.

“God didn’t call anybody to be small,” he said to me one day over breakfast. “Anybody.” He went on to let me know that he is of a state of mind that he is not accepting anything less than what he wants out of life. And he’s willing to work for it. He’s not looking for life to hand it to him, but he’s coming for it. “I want the body I want, the job I want, the life I want. It’s my inheritance! I want all of it.” Wow. There’s no settling in that mindset. No compromise. No, we’ll do this and see how it works. Not just a sip or a swallow. The whole darn bottle. So I want it all! Not because I’m greedy but because it’s mine. God gave me these abilities for a reason; He wants me to give me the life I desire. I only need to have the courage to go after it.

Be blessed,

Loria

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Groaning Pains

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“But the Holy Spirit prays for us with groanings that cannot be expressed in words.” Romans 8:26

“I love the Lord, he heard my cry and pitied every groan.” Whitney Houston (The Preacher’s Wife soundtrack)

She sat by the window of her bedroom, sunlight streaming across her aged features. The sunbeams revealed a face full of wisdom. Casting her gaze around the room, she focused with her one good eye. I watched as she pulled her paralyzed, atrophied arm closer to her torso using her fully functioning hand. A huge sigh escaped her, full of hidden meaning as she exclaimed:

“Oh God!”

“What’s wrong, Mama?” Seeing her outwards signs of distress, the way in which she stroked her arm as if to comfort herself, I was concerned. She looked up at me from her wheelchair and replied:

“Nothing. I just felt like saying, ‘Oh, God!'”

I never did find out the cause of my late mother-in-law’s angst. Clearly, something was bothering her, although she would not share it with me. Instead she infused all that she was thinking into that simple phrase, Oh, God. I’ve come to find out since, that it is a prayer. Sometimes, just saying His name is a source of comfort, for HE alone knows what we’re going through. When we are in so much pain that we cannot form the words or give voice to them, an “Oh, God!” will do.

When I was a little girl, my family would travel “down south” frequently. Thirteen hours in a car filled to capacity with only stops to use the restroom. My mother would pack our meal so that we could eat along the way. She stored the fried chicken, fresh and hot, in a shoe box lined with foil. (She always kept shoe boxes because they could come in handy later. Don’t know where she kept them, though, for they would materialize at just the right time, as needed.) She supplied a homemade cake, as well – my mother made THE best yellow cake with a chocolate, ganache-type icing. I can’t remember the other accoutrements but I knew the chicken was always accompanied by a soft loaf of Holsum bread. Usually, our host would provide similar vittles for the return journey. Now that was some good eating!

On one occasion, my Uncle Edmund was driving and it was winter. We were on the road to “Miss’ippi” (as folks from Mississippi pronounced it) on a dark road. As he drove across a bridge, the tires struck a patch of ice, sending the car into a tail spin. As we, the occupants, held on for dear life, I remember my grandmother, Mama Bessie, crying out from the back seat: “JESUS!” The car stopped on a dime, just before we would have crashed through the rail. So sometimes, you don’t even have time to say a prayer. That night I learned that “JESUS!” would do in a pinch.

Still, there are other times when words fail us altogether. We cannot even find it in us to speak His name, so great is our misery. We can rest assured that he hears us, nonetheless. Our spirit cries out on our behalf, talking to Him, telling our Father what words alone cannot convey. Situations in life can drive us to our knees. Mentally, if not in actuality, we’re crawling in our disposition. Grief often has us on our faces, in the dirt, on the floor. But repeatedly, the Bible says, God heard the cries of the oppressed and he delivered them; famously so, in the case of the Israelites. Notably, so, in my own life. I am convinced that Our Father still hears every moan of distress. He sees every sign of dismay. During our most painful moments, we can take comfort. He hears our inner scream and will deliver us from our affliction.

Be blessed,

Loria

I love the LORD because he hears my voice and my prayer for mercy.
Because he bends down to listen, I will pray as long as I have breath! Psalm 116:1-2

 

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Immaculate Book Launch!

book signing 2016
“… and, lo, the star, which they saw in the east, went before them, 

till it came and stood over where the young child was.” Matthew 2:9

So excited for the upcoming book launch of Immaculate in paperback! It’s been a wonderful journey for me, as well as for Mal, Ari and Martha. Filled with perils on their side, it has been fraught with disappointments and delays on my side. But, at last, it is here! I hope to see you there – stay tuned for details on how you can download a free copy of the book that began the series, Touched. As always, I pray that you would be blessed in your every endeavor as you pursue the gifts our God has placed in you. Just to whet your appetite, I’ve included the prologue of Immaculate. Enjoy!

 

Prologue

Sulayman

… stood overlooking his kingdom. His lands stretched before him with his people working below. Some tended sheep and goats while prodding them with sharp sticks. Others kept their plots of vegetables, which were laid out in neat rows. Sulayman saw those who had dedicated their lives to service, ministering before the God of their fathers, day and night. There were those, also, who guarded the contents of their Temple and kept its holy relics and secrets. Precious items were held within that, should they be discovered, might bring joy to some and dismay to others. The news of their survival might even start a war over their possession.

But he and his people were undoubtedly the heirs and protectors, a right bequeathed to him by his forefathers. Sulayman stood evidence to that link as he was named after the very king rumored to have entrusted these objects to Sulayman’s own ancestor for safekeeping. And, Sulayman displayed said king’s great gift, even as much, because people would travel from afar to have Sulayman weigh in on a matter. This was how he came to his present situation.

He surveyed the scenes played out from his position on the hill outside his residence. Was he not king? Was it not his duty, religious or otherwise, to see this through? He was as conflicted as he was convicted. Surely, the revelation he’d just received (confirmed by a celestial occurrence that he, himself, had witnessed) would be occasion for great rejoicing if held true. The weight of it and what it could mean for him, for his subjects and their connection to the One True God’s own people, fell on him.

Sulayman needed to verify the event for himself, with his own eyes. His heart quickened at the thought. Could it be true? At last? His consultation with an expert in the movement of the stars, a man whose opinion he truly respected, led Sulayman to hope, against hope, that it could be so. The mere thought made his heart ache to witness this great sight. That he could be fortunate enough to see the realization of this long anticipated event during his lifetime was unfathomable.

He gathered his thoughts and himself, turned away from his view and readied for the arduous, though joyful, journey ahead…

 

Now available on Kindle and paperback on Amazon!

Click here to view the book trailer and download your

e-book or order your hard copy online.

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It Starts With Us

philando-castile“The Lorax came out of me being angry. In The Lorax I was out to attack what I think are evil things and let the chips fall where they might.” Dr. Seuss

I saw the press conference where the fifteen year old son of Alton Sterling broke down. He tried to be there for his mother, as the oldest of five children, while she talked about how Alton was killed by police. Her son hid his face in a corner of his shirt as she spoke on the tragedy but grief soon overwhelmed him. I’m sure he had heard of the deaths of Mike Brown, Sandra Bland, Tamir Rice and others at the hands of law enforcement. He was old enough to know, as the entire black community in every city now realizes, it could happen to any of us, at any given time. But how can you prepare for this tragedy? It makes no sense. Our life expectancy shouldn’t be shortened because we are black. But none of us, man nor woman, young or old, are exempt no matter how compliant we are. I’m just as certain Sterling’s son thought, as anyone would under similar circumstances: NOT MY FATHER. How did things turn for the worse so quickly? Unbelievable. And inexplicable. It’s a sad day in America when this has become the norm, the killing of black citizens for routine infractions. It was an unjustifiable violent act against an unarmed man. A sad day, not just for blacks, but for every American.

Lately, I’ve been recalling to mind a novel by Stephenie Meyer, The Host. I enjoyed it although it didn’t reach the same level of fame as its predecessor, Twilight. The premise was one we’ve heard before – aliens come to earth and inhabit our bodies. It was regarded as a hostile takeover by humans but as one much needed by an alien race with superior technology. Because they were peaceful, they viewed our society as barbaric. They watched us for a while in secrecy and viewed our news reports. They saw all the evil that men do. These glowing, caterpillar-like creatures were inserted into the minds of humans and changed their behavior. The alien race did away with crime, poverty and sickness. As Wanda, the host, explained, “We make life better.” They were saving us and our planet from us. We were the villains.

I can’t help but agree with the assessment of Wanda’s alien race on our society. Looking at our news reports is enough to make us see the need for change. We need a takeover. And though I can be a Pollyanna and choose to live optimistically, my hopes do not lie in us ever getting it together. The Bible tells us a Utopian existence can only be ushered in upon Jesus’ return. I wait and hope for that day but live in the here and now. What about THIS day? People say: We need to do more than pray! And that is true. Actions are in order. But let us not forget that prayer is our most effective weapon against evil. When the folks who are in authority misuse their power, it is the epitome of the spiritual wickedness that sits in high places. It is for this reason that our weapons of warfare cannot only be those we can see (Ephesians 6:12).

This morning I cried as I learned of the death of yet another, Philando Castile, at the hands of police. I’m angry, frustrated, fed up and tired of all three. Lots of folks on social media are silent. Speechless, I think, because we cannot comprehend the horror. We don’t watch the video because we don’t wanna know. We don’t want to cry or have sympathy for the victim because that destroys our illusion of safety via compliance. The idea that someone could deserve such a fate is ludicrous. The truth is, it can happen to anyone – black or white – and it has. There are those who like to interject: What about black on black crime? As if that could be an excuse for reprehensible behavior on the part of police. What about white on white crime? Asian on Asian? Latino? LGBT? So what? One has nothing to do with the other. Shame on those who jump to defend the perpetrators with such an argument without sparing one moment of sympathy for a life taken senselessly and so soon. But even had you cried, it would have changed nothing. But you might have been stirred to action. So let us be done with our tears and victim blaming and find a solution to this problem.

Years ago, I stood in a grocery line that was only slightly backed up and watched as the cashier gave the elderly lady in front of her hell for going over the limit and for using food stamps. Because it was a cash only line, the cashier claimed that food stamps were not cash. She was about as disrespectful to the old lady as you could be without cursing. I looked at the motherly woman and saw my own Madear and thought: She better not try that with me! And all the things I would do and say to her. When it was my turn, she proved just as belligerent to me. Of course, I told her off and called her manager to report her. He merely agreed with me, said she had been reprimanded in the past but he would talk to her again. Too late, I saw that instead of waiting for my chance to stand against her alone, I should have stood up for the old lady and then it would have been BOTH of us against her. That would have been quite a ruckus. Too many times we wait until it is time to defend our own. We walk away because we don’t want to get involved. But there is strength in numbers.

Repeatedly, the Bible urges us to “watch and pray.” The time has passed for praying only. When you see that there is a problem, instead of saying: “Someone should do something about that,” know that God has called you. Esther could have stayed comfortable in the palace and watched as her people were killed, but her Uncle Mordecai urged her to identify with the Jewish population and speak up. She fasted and prayed, then she acted. And we should watch for those opportunities to say something, putting ourselves in the shoes of those of us who are being persecuted instead of distancing ourselves. We think if we are not like them, we are safe. But this last gentleman who was killed was just a regular guy. The time has come for us to not continue to turn blind eyes and deaf ears to the problem just because it makes us uncomfortable. People are dying. In America.

Oh Lord, that you would come in and inhabit us with your spirit so that we can no longer commit vile acts against each other, being neither the recipient, nor the perpetrator. Let those who are guilty receive their just recompense. Reward them according to their deeds for only you know their hearts. Teach us to pray, give us the words to say to move you on our behalf. But you already have: Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth, as it is in heaven. This is your model for prayer. And if it weren’t possible to have your will be done in this life, I don’t think you would have included that line in your example. So we will pray until YOUR will is accomplished. I don’t believe what we’re living is it. I also pray and remember that when the Israelites were oppressed and cried out for deliverance, you answered them time and again. We are your people, too. And you will answer us, for you love justice. A perfect society may be too much to hope for, but you make things better. We all can do better.

“Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It’s not,” The Lorax.

Be blessed,

Loria

 

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Digging Holes

Dig it upA farmer went out to sow his seed. As he was scattering the seed, some fell along the path, and the birds came and ate it up… Still other seed fell on good soil, where it produced a crop—a hundred, sixty or thirty times what was sown. (Matthew 13:3-4, 8)

Some amazing things are happening in my life right now. Immaculate is creating wonderful opportunities and I’m just in awe of God and what He is doing. Coupled with the great things have been some crushing disappointments. Every time I think I have it all sewed up, things seem to come unraveled. It’s enough to make me wanna give up. Until I recalled the story of Joseph and it put things in perspective.

You may know the story but I’ll briefly recap. Joseph could interpret dreams. His brothers hated him so that he was sold into slavery. But God favored Joseph, who proved so trustworthy that his new master, Potiphar, gave him control over the entire household. Potiphar’s wife saw Joseph and lusted after him. She failed in her attempt to seduce him and cried rape. Potiphar (the captain of the guard) sent Joseph to prison – you know, the fancy one where they send politicians. But the favor of God followed him there, too. The jailer put Joseph in charge. One day, seeing the downcast faces of his fellow prisoners, Joseph offered to put his gift to use and help them.

Preparation met opportunity in that both of these fellows worked for Pharaoh. Joseph said to the cup bearer, who would benefit greatest (unlike the baker, who was damned): Remember me! But of course, the cup bearer forgot and Joseph continued to languish in prison for TWO MORE YEARS! I suppose Joseph, being human, wanted to give up when his wrong wasn’t righted immediately. He may have become discouraged when the cup bearer didn’t immediately spring him free. As the days went by, his hopes likely dwindled and he may have wondered if he would ever be released from prison. Cushy jail or not, it was still jail.

He knew the God of his fathers was faithful. Joseph had been blessed in every circumstance, no matter what tragedy befell him. But this new development had given him hope that his trials would be over soon. And hope is wonderful for lifting your spirits out of despair but also so disheartening when they are not realized. I imagine Joseph, shoulders slumped, drained of all confidence regarding his state. Was he destined to live this life of not quite making it before being snatched back into the pit he dared crawl out of? Was this his life and all there was to it? He may have wondered, why me? Almost, almost, almost but never THERE. His dreams told him a bigger life was in store for him, but his life had yet to catch up with his dreams. He had played his card and lost. He may have been resigned to his fate when suddenly his name was called:

“There he is,” the voice of the jailer said, fondness evident in his voice. Joseph was a model prisoner and his personal favorite. A more faithful person, in the jailer’s estimation, you couldn’t find. How Joseph came to be in this place, the jailer couldn’t fathom because the favor of God was clearly upon this young man. Joseph made life easier for him and the jailer trusted him implicitly. Had there been such a thing as early release due to good behavior or based on rehabilitation, the jailer may have done it, so highly did he esteem Joseph. Joseph looked up as his name was called, his expression dispirited, too hangdog to be expectant. Then he saw the Pharaoh’s men standing in the entrance lit by torches they carried. The lateness of the hour proclaimed the important nature of their visit. Wordlessly, Joseph jumped to his feet as the men opened the door to his cell. They did not grab him roughly but, instead treated him as a dignitary of some stature.

“Pharaoh desires your presence,” the lead soldier announced. Too overwhelmed to be overjoyed, Joseph acquiesced and soon found himself ushered before the leader of all of Egypt. The Pharaoh had been having trouble sleeping due to a recurring nightmare, Joseph had already been informed by the cupbearer, who met with him upon arrival. The cupbearer apologized for the delay but explained he only then remembered (or perhaps, he hadn’t wanted to remind Pharaoh of his offense).

“God will give you a favorable answer,” Joseph said to the Pharaoh and gave the meaning of the dream. It was a warning to the leader that famine was coming soon but during the years preceding there would be plenty. Joseph suggested, being a man used to overseeing the needs of a household and prison, that Pharaoh store up the plenty against the time of famine. Pharaoh thought it such a wonderful idea that he put Joseph in charge of implementing the plan. Now, the boy who was ousted from his father’s house, betrayed by his own brethren and sold into slavery was the vice-president, so to speak, of Egypt!

Today I feel like Joseph and so should you. One day all that we’ve gone through will make sense. It’s preparing us for a bigger day. The vision is for an appointed time – though it tarries, it will not lie (Habakkuk 2:3). Joseph dreamed he’d be bigger than anyone in his family but it didn’t happen for many years. During that time many bad things may have happened that told him his vision was a lie, but Joseph continued to sow seed towards the person he would become. Every honorable act, from taking care of Potiphar’s household to spurning his wife, being a trusted and valued prisoner for the Jailer, and even interpreting troubling dreams for his friends was seed. And one day it would bear fruit. Believing God in the face of what his situation looked like or despite how he felt must have been challenging. But one day he looked back and realized it was God preparing him so that he could be equal to the opportunity. He was able to say to his brothers, then reconciled, “You meant it for evil but God meant it for good.”

Lately, it seems that life events have swung back and forth, like a pendulum, from one extreme to another. But I know the vision God gave me; even though it is delayed, I will wait for it. And I’ll keep preparing for the person God wants me to be, for it is surely coming! Until then I’ll be digging holes and scattering seed, waiting for my harvest. Lord, help me to be equal to the opportunity when it arrives.

Be blessed,

Loria

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Madonna

black madonna
Photo credit, Pinterest

“M is for the million things she gave me …” MOTHER, T Morse & H Johnson

And the third day there was a marriage in Cana of Galilee; and the mother of Jesus was there: And both Jesus was called, and his disciples, to the marriage. And when they wanted wine, the mother of Jesus saith unto him, They have no wine. Jesus saith unto her, Woman, what have I to do with thee? mine hour is not yet come. His mother saith unto the servants, Whatsoever he saith unto you, do it. (John 2:1-5 KJV)

Thus began Jesus’ ministry of miracles, the very first being issued (prematurely) because of his mom. The things we do at our mothers’ insistence are innumerable. What lengths would we go to, what would we not do for them? Even Jesus bowed under the weight of that obligation, we see. He is the son of God, but also of man. Therefore, he was obedient to Mary in the same way we are commanded to honor our mothers and fathers. Okay, Mom. I made more wine, see? LOL!

Jesus, I believe, had a special bond with mothers. Show him a mom in distress and he was moved to action. Consider the story where Jesus came upon a funeral bier, that of a woman about to lay her son to rest. She must have been bereft, inconsolable. Her husband had died previously and now her only son, her only means of support, was gone also. What would she do? How could she provide for herself? Not to mention, she had lost her son, her light, her future and the very thing that made her a mother. She had lost her identity. So Jesus, seeing her in mourning, was moved to compassion. He raised her son from the dead and restored both of their lives. Her fortune and future were now more secure. She had her son back.

Nothing could move Jesus like a mother, I think. No other feeling on earth is so closely patterned after his love for us. He lamented the state of Jerusalem and said he often wanted to gather them under his wings as a hen gathers her chicks (Matthew 23:37). This is the very picture of motherly love and protection. His relationship with his mother was that of any man, I feel. He was so concerned with her well being after his time here on earth was over, that he gave her his beloved disciple, John, in his stead. Woman, behold thy son! (John 19:26) In other words, try not to miss me so much, Mom. John will be here to comfort you. But more importantly, just as in the case of the woman in the funeral procession, he gave her a live son. He left a comforter in his place. It is no wonder to me that Jesus so easily acquiesced to Mary’s request. It speaks to their relationship and how he felt about her.

With this upcoming Mother’s Day, I’m ruminating on some of the things that make me who I am, mother and daughter. I remember the things my MaDear has done for me. Her love has no limits. And because I am a mother, too, I now know how that feels. As her daughter, I know what it is to be moved to do something, even though objecting, but still doing it because she asked. Did I ever create a miracle for her? I suppose I must have because my own children have done so for me many times, unknowingly. I recall the first Mother’s Day my children honored me. They were so small but old enough to talk. My son and daughter were led to the front of the church, the microphone put before them and coaxed to say: Happy Mother’s Day! Tears streamed down my face in surprise. For some reason, it wasn’t real until that moment. I was overcome for some time after that. A man remarked to me later, “That was the first time you realized it was about you!” Exactly. I was a mother. I was the revered one. Wow. That still floors me.

I also remember the day my brother taught us to love and honor our mother. He took us to a store that was filled with glass things. My eyes were wide as he showed us the gift he’d picked out for MaDear. It was a glass punch bowl with little cups that hung over the sides. You know the one, LOL! But we’d never seen something so beautiful. It was worthy of our mother. We were excited as she opened it because it was from US. My brother had been gracious enough to include his siblings and I also think he felt it would be worth even more to our mom to think it was from her small ones, too. For me, giving our mother that gift was the very best feeling. In giving to her, we gave to ourselves that moment of knowing we had pleased her. She got many years out of that gift set. Each time she brought it out to entertain, I remembered where she’d gotten it from. And so it continues to this present day. We’re so glad to still have her here with us and we continue to honor her. This upcoming Mother’s Day she is blessed to have it fall on her 90th birthday. We are beyond thrilled to celebrate this momentous occasion, this great coming of age with her. So Happy Birthday MaDear and Happy Mother’s Day to all. May heaven celebrate with us.

Be blessed,

Loria

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Let’s go crazy!

Prince“But ye are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, an holy nation, a peculiar people …” (1 Peter 2:9)

“And if the elevator tries to break you down, go crazy!” Purple Rain soundtrack

This is one of the first images, my early recollections of the Artist who would be known as Prince. Little did I know then that he would become embedded, intertwined in the fabric of my life. I consider myself somewhat of a fan, though not a fanatic. I would find myself singing a Prince tune frequently, mostly when I was happy. For some reason, more often than not, it was Raspberry Beret … the kind you find in a second hand store, LOL! And nothing can get me stoked like the first bars of Glamorous Life (to this day, I am fascinated with female musicians, especially drummers), Nasty Girl (Don’t judge me!) and When Doves Cry. I was your typical young girl; if it had a great beat, catchy refrain and made me want to dance, count me in. And on a particularly morose first day of my work week, you could hear me singing Manic Monday. But the love for his songs continued past my youth. After my divorce, I found and fell in love with his rendition of, I can’t make you love me if you don’t. But even that was more because of his arrangement and vocal style than because of the depressing subject matter. So many great songs and wonderful memories. A childhood friend remarked, after meeting him, that he was tiny. Smaller than her and she was pretty petite. But his stage presence was larger than life.

Purple Rain was a huge hit, it even received a ringing endorsement from Roger Ebert (which was pretty cool at that time). I remember our excitement and fever at the prospect of going. And it was a movie for grown ups. Unlike a lot of musical talent today, he didn’t try to appeal to the tween generation of his time. He made his music, racy lyrics and all, unapologetically. I give him points for living his life on his terms. Even to changing his name when it suited him and refusing to be owned by the powers that be. It takes courage and a great sense of self to do that in a world that’s always pushing us to conform. His musical genius is, was undeniable.

One song which arose from that movie, I could count on to pick me up most times when I was feeling down: Let’s Go Crazy! For some reason the lyrics to this particular song resonated with me. “Not gonna let the elevator BREAK US DOWN!” That elevator was life. That elevator was The Man, people in authority, your boss or anyone that tried to oppress you, to put you down and keep you down. The circumstances and situations that arose to test your resolve to excel, to challenge your determination to succeed. That elevator, man, you couldn’t let it get to you. This appealed to the rebellious streak in me. My manager used to always ask this question after a training session to ensure that it had been helpful: What are your take aways? I took this message from the life of Prince: when faced with obstacles, get radical. Be so good at what you do, you can’t be ignored. Smile in the face of your haters, perpetrators and instigators, knowing that you can’t be stopped from reaching your goal. That way of thinking could require some arrogance on your part (or so it may seem to an onlooker) or, great faith in God who bestowed upon you unimaginable gifts that could propel you.

When I was a little girl, my family lived in an apartment building on the eighth floor. Frequently the elevator would break down. Which meant for us, a manual trip up and down those eight flights of stairs. No mean feat, I can assure you, after a visit to our local grocery store where my mother would shop for her family of, coincidentally, eight people. So of course, she could not let a malfunctioning elevator stop her, it could only slow her down. Did I also mention, she didn’t have a car? Nor did she drive. So a trek on foot to and from the store was followed by a long haul up and down the stairs until everything was safely ensconced in our little kitchen. Lack of car or elevator just forced her to choose another way to get things done. That other way often forces us to be more creative, to think outside to box or to construct another box altogether. Can’t find a job? Make one! Looking for your piece of the pie? Fuggedaboutit! Make your OWN pie. Throw all of those preconceived notions, those conventional barriers to success out the window.

Being creative can make you appear unusual to other folks. Peculiar, even. You’ll look downright crazy at times. What? You don’t want to work a regular job until you die? Something must be wrong with you! It goes against the norm. But I revel in being different. It’s so stifling to me to be otherwise. So when I hear that song it is actually empowering to me. It has become symbolic of my struggle. It says to me, it’s ok to be you. Be original. Be true to who you are. And whatever happens, don’t let life get you down. Persevere. Push through it, get back up – no matter how many times you have to do it or how many tries it takes. Don’t give up. GO CRAZY.

Be blessed,

Loria