August 17 – received notice of foreclosure

August 20 – totaled our minivan after hubby blacked out behind the wheel

August 22 – echocardiogram

September 2 – discovered I was pregnant

September 7 – cardiologist’s office called – bad news…

Needless to say, I was quite stressed.  Looking back at it all – I am extremely glad it all happened!  Let’s put it this way – we were about ready to lose everything and I was actually looking mortality straight in the face.

I think the weakest moments came after my cardiologist’s office called.  The nurse’s words still ring like gunshots through my mind.  “I’m not saying you need to terminate, but you should strongly consider it.”  That probably hurt me more in the conversation than when the nurse brought up the possibility of my needing a pacemaker!  I was only 28 for crying out loud.  My reaction to the phone call wasn’t a very pleasant one – I cried uncontrollably for about an hour or so.  Considering this was the first time I REALLY cried in over 3 or more years, an hour was a long time.  In fact, I don’t think I ever have cried that hard in my life.  I just don’t give much value to emotions and feelings.  I tend to hold them in at times and can actually “shut off” my emotions.

Anyway, I remember a point in that day when I was in bed with my husband and both my sons.  I can remember sobbing and they were all just hugging me.  One of the most heartbreaking moments came when my husband looked at me with tears running down his face and said, “I can’t live without you.”  It was in that moment that I considered termination.  It was the weakest moment of my life but the absolute most profound.

Some may believe that God doesn’t give people personal revelations and such.  That’s fine, there’s no reason to believe that He would.  On the other hand, there is no reason the believe that He wouldn’t.

It’s funny that God would use the absolute weakest moment of my entire life to impart to me a revelation.  Now, I’m nobody special.  I may just be going slowly crazy.
To think that God would impart to me, a pagan at the time, a revelation of Himself seems so incredulous – I can hardly believe it.  The logical part of my being thinks I most assuredly must be going crazy.  It is rather absurd to think that God would reveal part of Himself to me – in a dream.

First, let’s go over the timing of everything of importance.  August 22 was my echocardiogram.  The cardiologist’s office basically told me, “no news is good news” and that they would have the results in 2 to 7 days.  When two weeks had passed, I figured it was safe to assume the good news.  If they found anything wrong, they would certainly have called me sooner.  On the night of September 5, two weeks after my echo and two days before the cardiologist’s office called, I had a dream.  I should have gotten my echo results by that point but they were misplaced.

This wasn’t just any old dream.  It was one of those dreams you can feel and smell.  In the dream, a Satan – worshiping cult had stolen my newborn child.  I  knew the people that did it and followed them to their home.  In fact, some of the people I considered kindred spirits.     I broke into their facility and searched for my baby.  As I was searching, I would pass rooms.  In one of those rooms was Satan himself.  Ironically, Satan just happened to look like my cardiologist.  The conversation I heard was regarding how the infant sacrifice would take place.  In the next room, I found my baby – scooped him up and ran for it.

It didn’t take long for the inhabitants of the facility to realize what I had done.  They began to chase after me once I was out of the complex.  I ran into a small forest outside of the complex.  I kept running through the forest until I came to a neighborhood.  Every house in the neighborhood was dark, except one.  I ran as fast as I could toward the house because I could hear the people still chasing after me.  For some reason, I ran around to the back door of the house and banged on the sliding glass door.  There were many people in the house and they welcomed me in.  I told them I was being chased by the devil and needed to keep my baby safe.

The gentleman that let me into the home told me that I was safe and to sit.  When I sat down, the elderly woman I was sitting next to handed me a Bible.  She said, “Here, you can use mine.”  Oddly enough, it was probably the safest feeling I had ever felt in my life.  While running from the devil, I landed in the middle of a Bible study.

I woke up the next morning a bit bewildered.  I thought the dream was odd until my cardiologist’s office called.  After the initial shock of that phone call, I considered the dream and came to a realization that as long as I put my faith in Him,  I would be safe.

My cardiologist’s behavior at my appointment on September 10 was a lovely culmination to the entire three weeks.  Obviously, his nurse didn’t make note of my pregnancy in my chart.  He went through his whole spiel about medication and a later consult for a pacemaker.  After he was finished, I said, “Did your nurse tell you I was pregnant?”  You could immediately see the look of fear come over his face as he sat there in a drawn out pause as though he had no idea what to say next.  At this point, I was completely confident that I would be safe and that confidence must have been noticeable in my demeanor.  I say this because after the long pause my cardiologist said, “I assume you want to continue the pregnancy.”  I assertively replied, “Yes.”

The last thing my cardiologist said to me as he basically ran out the door like he was being shot at was, “well, if anything goes wrong we can prescribe something.”  I don’t think I have EVER seen a doctor move that fast – not even in an emergency room.

People can think me crazy, that’s fine.  I really think that dream was a revelation from God.  I know, even I think it sounds crazy.  However, I would rather be a crazy Christian than the miserable pagan I was.

Does anybody else in this world think that God still communicates with us?  I sometimes feel like I’m losing my mind.  I don’t hear voices or anything like that.  However, I am constantly looking and listening for messages from Him.  I don’t believe that prayer is one-sided conversation.  I  view prayer as intimate communication with our Lord, to which He is able to respond in any way He so chooses.  We just have to be alert, listen, and be ready when the messages come.

Anyway, I find myself alone, sitting up late at night thinking out loud. A bystander may think me crazy because I am usually talking to thin air. However, what I am able to spout off in isolation is often rather profound. The next day, when I go to record my thoughts from the prior night, I cannot remember what those thoughts were. It is amazing what one can say when you think nobody is listening.

Anyway, I’m pretty excited and nervous about an upcoming event. When the hubby and I bought our new washer and dryer, we decided we would donate our old set. Well, it has come to my attention that Love INC has two clients waiting for a set. When we get the information from Love INC, the hubby and I will load up the appliances and deliver them to a well-deserving family. We will be acting as the proverbial hands and feet of Christ. I am excited to be called into this but I am also quite nervous. I want to be a good witness. I always worry that when I attempt to witness, I will only drive people away. That probably has much to do with my own experiences while pagan with street evangelists. They pretty much drove me away from Christianity.

I know it will be a different environment than a street corner. I’ll actually be invited into somebody’s home. They will expect me to invite them to my church. They may even ask me why I am helping them, a complete stranger. I’ll actually have the chance to share my faith.

You never thought you would see God working in a mud puddle. It was interesting. Over the summer, I volunteered at my church’s VBS. One morning, I was running late, the kids were acting crazy, and I was completely over the top angry. I was close to the point where I was ready to turn around and just go home. As I’m driving, I am constantly yelling at my kids to be quiet. My heart was certainly NOT in the correct place.

Just as I was approaching the I-74 exit, I got a big surprise. Just past the 21st St underpass, a car struck a HUGE mud puddle completely on the opposite side of the interstate. (The next day that same puddle flooded the entire interstate.) Somehow the force of the water flying up just happened to be strong enough to land upon my windshield. For a couple of seconds, I could see nothing. Considering the lanes were about to shift, I braced myself and prepared to hit the center divider. Then suddenly, my wipers pushed all the mud, water, and grime off my windshield.

You know how there are moments in your life where you feel like you have been figuratively slapped upside your head for being difficult? This was one of those moments for me. My heart wasn’t right, not at all. God wanted to make sure I knew that.

What made the whole event that more effectual was that particular day’s Bible lesson. I studied the lesson every morning prior to VBS, so I understood the lesson correctly. That day we were presenting a lesson regarding God coming to Elijah in a whisper. In 1 Kings 19:1-16, several events occurred that you would think would be God’s way of getting your attention. There was a mighty wind, falling rocks, an earthquake, and a great fire; yet God communicated with Elijah in a gentle whisper.

Ironically, I get a mud puddle.

Many people call me crazy, but I feel like I shouldn’t have a Mirena anyway. However, I’m really apprehensive about having it removed. I know I’ll probably get pregnant quickly and if I’m not careful, I’ll get pregnant over and over. I really don’t want to end up like the Duggars. While I find their lives admirable, we wouldn’t be able to afford that many kids. I can’t imagine feeding 20 people on a daily basis. Well, I guess I couldn’t imagine that biologically. I could imagine having 20 kids passing through my life on a foster basis but not 20 at the same time. Plus, I REALLY don’t want to be pregnant or breastfeeding for the next 15 years or so.

I’m not all that worried (maybe a little worried) about the effect another pregnancy may have on my heart. After taking into account my thyroid levels and my heart issues, it looks like my hypothyroidism is contributing to my low ejection fraction. At least, that is the conclusion my primary care doc has come to and I agree. It makes better sense than postpartum cardiomyopathy.

I do know that I absolutely want the Mirena removed. I haven’t had any side effects and truthfully, it’s pretty awesome on a day to day basis. Unfortunately, there was one moment that upset me not long after getting the Mirena. I try not to think about it but I believe I may have had a miscarriage. After having a miscarriage prior to having Dagyn, I know what they are like. I’m worried that this thing in my uterus caused an unintentional abortion. What I saw looked like an embryo at about nine weeks. In fact, I’m relatively sure that is exactly what I saw. So, I want this thing out of me – the sooner the better.

I can still be nasty, when the need arises. For the most part though, I don’t like being that way. It’s not nice. I’m a nice person, at least I think I am. Since returning to blogging, I have noticed an improvement in my mood and disposition. I am far more able to accept compromise and when I do get angry, it is short-lived. For instance, this morning, I was ready to strangle the recycling guy. Now, I’m not quite so angry. I just don’t think garbage trucks of any kind, recycling or regular, should be allowed to operate in neighborhoods prior to 7am. Garbage trucks are loud and will wake up people.

I’m not angry about it being loud, I am angry that they pick up so dang early. This means that before I go to bed I am supposed to put the trash out the night before, which isn’t easy for me. My nights consist of straightening up the kitchen, putting three boys to bed, and then FINALLY taking a moment to myself. Sticking garbage in the middle of my routine isn’t really my thing.

I will agree that there are some intolerant people out there, but they are not only Christians. I know a person that refers to himself as a Buddhist and he is one of the most intolerant people I have ever met. Seriously, he is pretty bad (I speak as a victim of his vitriol). He will literally shout down Christians or any other person that doesn’t share his relativistic view. I pity him. Due to his intolerance, he is missing out on some relationships that could give him so much joy. I know other Buddhists that are wonderful people and I know not to lump them in same category with the man I previously mentioned.

In sociology, my professor put forth a statistic that I love. It basically states that 87% of a specific group is relatively benign while the remaining 13% cause problems for the other 87%. In 2005, there were 224 million people that identified themselves as some form of Christian, regardless of denomination. If we apply the above statistic to this number, we would get that there are 29,120,000 Christians out there making life difficult for the other 194,880,000. 29 million is a large amount of people. With a number like that, it would be likely that we would come in contact with one of these people sometime in our life.

Sadly, when a person has a good experience they might remember it. When a person has a bad experience, they most certainly will remember it and will be likely to tell others about their experience. When hearing about another’s bad experience, that person will likely respond by telling their own story of a bad experience. In the midst of their conversation, they probably won’t mention the person that chipped in a dollar when they were short on their groceries. They won’t remember that person that pulled over and helped them change a tire in the rain. It will completely slip their mind about the teacher that sat with them after school to help them understand a math concept. Not a word will be mentioned about their neighbor fixing a busted spigot in 2 inches of water while it was only 40 degrees outside. The stranger that cried with them in the parking lot of a department store only hours after their mother died will fade from their memory. The only thing on their mind will be that one incident and the many people that have been there for them in the past will suddenly be associated with that one negative event.

One of my favorite pieces of Biblical advice comes from 1 Thessalonians 4:11 Make it your ambition to lead a quiet life, to mind your own business and to work with your hands, just as we told you,. I am sure to mind my own business. If there are circumstances where it is obvious that a person is in need of help, then I’ll step forward. If a person comes to me with a problem or question, I will answer them from my Christian worldview. Whether or not they use my answer to their benefit is up to them. All I can do is provide them with information, I cannot make their decisions for them. No Christian, or any person for that matter, has the right to coerce or force another into a specific lifestyle.

I want to be not only a Christian, but an example for Christ. I want the hope that is inside me to shine not only in words but in action.

I am going on my first mission trip this summer. It’s not out of the country. I can’t do that yet as I don’t have a passport. I’m going to New Hampshire. My oldest son is probably going with me, which makes it twice as exciting. I guess the area we will be in has little to no evangelical influence. I will hopefully be getting my passport soon and would love to go to my church’s many mission programs throughout the world. My church supports missions in the United Kingdom, Panama, Costa Rica, India, and the Philippines. I think there are other missionaries my church supports but I cannot think of where they are at the moment. I could see myself becoming a missionary to a foreign country later in life.

For now, I especially enjoy studying apologetics and Christian doctrine. I also enjoy helping anywhere I can. I don’t just want to spread the good news, I want to show people the love of Christ. I guess it could be comparable to being the hands and feet of Jesus.

I had a dream the other night that six or seven huge moose came out of the small forest behind my house. I thought it was odd to have moose in Indiana. Then they started chasing my cat, “Moose”. It was a funny sight to see as the animals began to tangle their antlers and fall all over the place. Things got serious when my cat came running to the house and the many moose that followed knocked down my trees and destroyed my patio furniture. I guess maybe I should consider naming my animals “Fluffy” or something of the like to prevent dreams like this. I just wonder what will happen when I have a dream involving my other cat, “Pig”.

Then there was a Michael Jackson dream. That was a good one. Basically, in the dream, I found a job where I had to meet somebody in a small cafe in Nebraska. When I get there, my boss sits across from me and hands me a set of keys. She is wearing a big fur coat and dark sunglasses in an effort to keep from being recognized. Anyway, the job was to drive a black SUV to an address in Gary Indiana. I was not allowed to look what was in the back. I blatantly told the woman I was not going to transport drugs. She looked at me over the top of her sunglasses and told me it wasn’t drugs. This is the point in the dream that I recognized the woman. She just happened to be Michael Jackson’s mother. I proceeded to ask in sheer incredulity, “is his body in there?” She shushed me and said if I were to take the job then I must keep everything confidential.

After that she got up from the table and left me alone with the keys and Jacko’s body. Then things got interesting. I walked out of the cafe after enjoying my lunch. I thought my “boss” paid for my meal, only she didn’t. When I got to the SUV, I was tackled by a police officer and arrested. I tried to explain it was all a mistake but they weren’t hearing it. While I was arguing with the people, a tow truck pulled up and proceeded to tow away the black SUV. I ran out to try and stop them and somehow the SUV fell off the truck. When it did, the sudden drop to the ground jarred open the back door. Then, in movie-like fashion, a coffin came propelling out the back of the SUV and skidded along the parking lot. It hit an incline and ramped up into the air, landing in the back of a box truck that just happened to be driven by my husband.

Hey, at least I know my hubby will have my back if I ever get arrest and lose the body of one of the most famous people in recent history.

I guess it would be best to start in a small sunday school room. The walls were plain red brick and along each wall set a shelf about waist high. If my memory serves me correctly, the carpet was a dark aqua blue. It is amazing that I can describe the room at all considering I was only 8-years-old. I sat alone with my sunday school teacher and we prayed. I asked Jesus to come into my heart and save me from my sin. From that point, it was my understanding that was it. No matter what I did from that point, I was saved. My teachers never spoke to me about baptism or any other biblical issue. From that point all I pretty much did was memorize verses and sing.

I do remember asking questions in sunday school to which the usual reply was “it is God’s will.” The last question I remember asking had to do with my attire. My family was struggling financially and could not afford nice clothing. My sunday school teacher taught us one sunday that when we enter God’s house girls must wear dresses and boys wear nice slacks and dress shirts. I asked that if God was okay with girls that did not own a dress entering His house because they could not afford dresses. The teacher told me not to ask questions. I never went back to sunday school there. In the meantime, while all this was going on, my mother was supplying me with ample books on witchcraft. Thus began the downward spiral out of Christianity.

Now things are going to get juicy. I did it all; sexual immorality, blasphemy, witchcraft, theft, and many other things. I can remember holding a class on witchcraft. There were about 15 teenagers in the room and I was instructing them how to follow wicca. I remember one teenage boy in particular. His parents were devout Christians, a denomination I won’t mention, and this young man was scared to death that his parents may find his stash of witchcraft books. I instructed him on how to keep them from his parents.

A friend of mine, a Christian, asked me if there was a way she could get more money. I instructed her and then terrible things happened, she got money but not in a manner she liked. Not only was she a victim of crime, but she was also a victim of Satan’s influence through me.

I’ve shouted down Christians handing out tracts. I’ve participated in sexually depraved activities. I stole on several occasions. I even attempted to convince people that Jesus Christ was a witch!

Oddly enough, the entire time I had a lovely memory of a small church in Whitestown, IN. It was always there in the back of my mind. I attended the church for a few weeks because I had become a friend of the minister’s son. I like to refer to New Hope Christian Church as a beacon beckoning me back to Christ. Sadly for me, I ignored that nagging feeling in the back of my head.

So, I continued on the fool’s journey. I married, had children and continued living a pagan lifestyle. I went to campouts with other pagans, even considered joining a coven. I attended a wiccan handfasting of two women, which is the religious equivalent of marriage in wicca. I thought I had it all figured out.

As a parent and a pagan, one of the most important issues I had with my children was to provide them with no religious education until they were able to understand. I figured I would start introducing them to my faith when my mother first introduced me, around the age of 11. I found it odd that my eldest child started asking about God when he was 5! It bewildered me because I sheltered my sons from all sorts of religious influence. How can a child ask about something to which he had never been exposed? I began to wonder if it is human nature to seek God. Once again, though, I thought I knew better and continued on a fools’ errant.

I guess at some point, God decided to intervene. For a time, I thought I was going crazy. Even now, things seem so incredulous that I still wonder if I am reading too much into it all. On September 2, 2007 I learned I was pregnant with my third child, a son.

On September 7, a nurse from my cardiologist called. She offered her apologies for not getting back with me sooner as my test results from three weeks ago got misplaced. She proceeded to tell me I needed an appointment to discuss possibly putting in a pacemaker and to start on heart medication immediately. First of all, I was only 28. Secondly, I was pregnant. You can only assume how one in that position would react to news like this. Somehow, between my sobs, I managed to squeak out two words, “I’m pregnant.” There was brief pause coming from the other side of the line. Her response; “Well, I’m not going to tell you to terminate, but you need to strongly consider it.” Like the walls of Jericho, my world came tumbling down.

For a brief moment, I considered it. I thought about what it would be like, to have life yanked from my womb. I wondered how I would feel walking out of a doctor’s office, completely alone, after having a procedure like that. I decided that there was no possible way I could have lived with myself if I were going to do that. I can still remember my cardiologist saying, “You could die.” I knew the consequences and was ready to face them if necessary.

When facing mortality, you consider a lot of things. You want to make right some of the wrongs you’ve committed. You want to make sure that those you love know it. Most of all, you evaluate you faith. I had 7 months to consider all of this. Considering my condition, it wasn’t the pregnancy that would cause problems – it was the delivery. During the pregnancy, I sought out support. I found that the majority of those that were willing to support my decision were Christian. My pagan friends called me selfish for having decided to possibly leave my husband and children behind when I didn’t have to take the risk.

The entire pregnancy I thought of New Hope Christian Church, which was an hour drive away. I looked for similar churches in my area but none were particularly welcoming. Most of the support I received came from people on the internet. I had small number of friends in the area that supported my newly discovered pro-life stance. However, I wasn’t really close to any of them. So, I felt rather alone, physically. I decided that I would walk this path with God and I made peace with Him.

On April 14th, 2008 my son was born. I named him Tobin, which is Hebrew for God is good. Obviously, I survived. Then, our family found ourselves in strange circumstances. We needed to move and found a home three houses down from my closest friend. I made friends in this new neighborhood rather quickly. One of them is Maria. She is a wonderful lady that attends a church down the street from my neighborhood. She invited me to join her on sunday, which I took her up on her invitation. In the sanctuary, I found myself unable to look at the cross without feeling a immense feeling of guilt, shame, and sadness. I felt completely unworthy or His grace. I felt filthy. I deserve eternal punishment. With all going on around me and the flamboyant behavior of the church members, I seriously was overwhelmed.

The next weekend I had planned to attend Grace Point but wasn’t quite ready for the extravagance that I experienced the first time. I sat early sunday morning looking for an area church to attend. Then I looked up service times at New Hope. I had 45 minutes to make it to 2nd service. I got my kids dressed, put them in the van and took off. I would have made it in time had I relied on my own memory rather than mapquest. Still, I arrive 15 minutes late.

I didn’t recognize the church at first. They had a new foyer, a new sanctuary, and the general layout was rather different. Had Mrs. Bourne, my friend’s mother and minister’s wife, not been in the foyer; I probably would have turned around and walked out. I thank God she was there. Of anybody to be in that spot on that day, it was the only person in the entire church with whom I had a previous relationship. She was a teacher at my elementary school.

To finish the story, it took me about a year and a half to be baptized and complete the transformation. I finally discarded the notion that all roads lead to God. I no longer believe that Satan isn’t real. Above all, I know that I am forgiven. Though I deserve the fires of hell, it is by His grace that I will be with Him in heaven.