Tag Archives: Christian

God Sends Angels through People

I’m sitting here amazed at the generosity that comes when times become rough.

My first experience of this was when we hit a really rough patch back in 2008. The resession was in full effect. We found ourselves over our heads in debt as hours at work were cut back. The only choice was to file for bankruptcy. The one price of it was we had to lose the car. I knew it was going to be hard, but it wasn’t hopeless. Little did I know how hope-FULL it was going to be.

I told my group at church in Virginia of our pending loss of the car and of the bankruptcy. All I asked was for prayers. I was stubbornly set on not being a burden, and make it work with an almost 3 year old daughter and an 18 month son. It was going to be tough, I knew, but I wasn’t without resources. But my group stunned me by finding a double stroller and gave me food to take home.

When the car was finally taken away, we had just been hit hard with the loss of my mother-in-law, and even then, people reached out to us with encouragement and aide.  By the grace and blessing of God, we didn’t have to be without a car for more than three weeks. He provided a way for us to get a car paid in full.

When we went through little rough patches… I remembered those days.

So when we were in a minor car accident a week and a half ago, in the midst of anxiety and uncertianty, there was one thing I held on to- We were going to be fine in the end. I just didn’t know how it was going to happen.

I’m going to say it’s all a God thing, because, sure enough, he sent people our way to help us through this rough patch.

We have been without a car since then, and, again, I stubbornly believed I would be fine just getting by with the skin of our teeth. “The store isn’t too far away.  We can walk. It will be good for us!”

My husband was more on the realistic side, “Do you think you can carry the groceries we need home?”

He had a point. A family of four needs quite a bit of food. Especially when my son has been hungry and eating a little more food than usual lately. It’s growth spurt time. Fortunately, I didn’t have to worry about it as a friend and neighbor chastised me for being stubborn.”I can help you get groceries home! Let me know when you need to go, and I’ll take you.”

We were able to get groceries for this past week, thanks to her.

Another friend gave me a ride to the body shop for my car the next day, and when he had to get to work, as we were running a little late that day, I was able to walk a block down to a really wonderful church where I had a lot of friends, and there, I found someone willing to drive me home.

Even after all these past blessings, I was still pretty content in the idea of just buckling down with just what we could on our own. I didn’t want to be a burden to anyone.

A friend gave me an offer for a ride to a job interview to a store a mile away, which, to me, walking to was do able. But with rain in the forecast, I knew that would be wiser to do. I took it, and she brought me and the kids home (They tagged along and hung out with her while I had my interview). As I came home, it dawned on me, I could have taken care of something I needed while I had the opportunity.  It was one of those “Face-plam” moments. I could have gotten my allergy medicine right when I was done with my interview. I was at the place of just accepting that I would have to live through the itchy eyes and itchy skin until my other allergy meds kicked in.

But God wasn’t done yet…

My husband had been walking to and from the light rail train, which takes him into Denver for work, since we don’t have a car for me to take him or pick him up from the station, and I was sitting at my computer playing a game to pass the time when he came through the door and immediately signed to me, “I want you to meet someone!”

In walks this sweet woman with this bright smile spread across her face. My husband introduces me to her with sign as he voiced for the woman. I could tell she was immedately nervous with the sudden realization that I was deaf. I calmed her fears with a smile, and told her that I could lip read. My husband then explains that this woman rode with him everyday from Denver and had been taking care of him. Little did we know, until today, that we live in the same complex!

“If you ever need anything, my husband and I would be more than happy to help!” She had known about our car accident and the lack of having a car, but with the new knowledge of us being nieghbors, she now felt she could really help us out.

“Well…” I hesitated. She looked at me intently. “I do need some Benedryl for my allergies. I forgot to get some at the store when I was there today. That’s all I need right now.”

She apparently had no clue about dealing with allergies, as she didn’t know what they looked like. I explained to her they were pink and little. “No problem! Let me go get you some right now!” I told her to get the generic brand if she was going to do that for me. She left with a smile.

She came back with two grocery bags instead of just a small box. “I got you guys some ice cream, if you don’t mind. I hope there’s no allergies.” I had to laugh. She went out for allergy meds for me and she asks us that. Fortunately, the allergies are all dust and pollen in this family. When I saw the allergy meds, I saw she had gotten the name brand.

I was completely surprised and blessed. She didn’t even want any money as I was ready to pay her back.

After she left us, the overwhelming sense of blessing came over me. I had not expected this at all.

God does send his Angels to watch over us. Sometimes it takes shape in people around us.

All I can do is be thankful and know He is in control.


To My Mother: She Heard Me and Held Me

In the 6 years I’ve had this blog, I’ve not once written anything in honor of my amazing mother. Well, today that’s what I’m doing. It’s to be a perfect tribute to a woman who took on the extra mile of being a mother to a deaf and partially blind child… And it’s Mother’s Day.

To start, my mom was a very young woman, just in her first year of her marriage to my dad, when she became pregnant with me. To top it off, she became sick with German Measles in the first trimester.

It is also called Reubella, and if you know about it, you can understand that it is a terrifying situation for a woman that early in her pregnancy. She could have chosen to terminate it, knowing there would be a good chance I would be severely disabled, but she didn’t. My mom had faith that God would protect me and things would be fine. She trusted God’s will, no matter what that would mean.

I’m glad she did.

When I was born, my mom was thrilled to find me healthy and whole. She didn’t know of my deafness or of the weak retinas I gained from Reubella. I grew, cried, and ate like any baby. I babbled and played, which didn’t reveal any of my disablities, until I was around three years old. I was still babbling, and a friend of my mom hinted, “I think your daughter is deaf. Maybe you should get her hearing tested?”

That meant my family, which now included my little brother, would need to drive down to a bigger city hours away from home for me to have the test done. If I remember correctly, from what my mom had shared with me, it was in Tucson, Arizona, at the University of Arizona, where I got my hearing tested.  They were able to confirm what everyone was wondering.

“Yes, your daughter is deaf.  She has a severe to profound hearing loss.”

That shook my family’s world, and we all moved down to Tucson to give me the best access to services to help me get hearing aids, an education, and family support.

I went to a school in Tucson called “Clinic for Hearing Impaired Children.” Now, the term “hearing impaired” went out years ago as it was considered not “politically correct”, but it was the ’80’s, and people were still learning how to help deaf and hard of hearing people gain a better quality of life and education.  I learned “Total Communication,” which is the method of teaching sign language while teaching how to speak and understand the English language.

While I was going there, my mom came every day and watched me in my classes through a one way window. She took the time to learn the signs and continue what I learned in school at home.

I wish I could say that was common with deaf children, but sadly, it isn’t. Most of the time, parents send their deaf children to a residental state school for the deaf and let the dorm parents take care of them. A few of them took the time and effort to learn sign so they could communicate with their children, and I do know a few of them.

As I grew up, my mom was there being my “coach” on the swim team, my interpreter at church, and my advocate as I was mainstreamed in the public schools. She even became my teacher as she homeschooled me for a couple of years. She taught me to stand up for myself. She ingrained Philippians 4:13 in to my head. “Just because you are deaf, it doesn’t mean you can’t do anything.”

At 11 years old, I lost partial vision in my right eye. I went to eye doctors and specialists and found out that I had a tear in my retina in the central part of my vision. Once it healed, it left a permanent scar in the center of my vision. My eye became lazy and permanently shifted to the right, giving me the ability to use the remaining of my vision to see some things around me.

That didn’t stop me.

I went to Hawaii with my Girl Scout troop, and my mom was my offical interpreter for the trip. What a blast! She encouraged me when I found my love for signing songs. When it came to deciding college, she was all for me going 2000 miles from home to Gallaudet University. What mom would do that?! She knew it was the right school for me.

Now as a mom, she has been a huge support and friend when I went through rough patches, and in turn, I was able to be there for her when she went through hers.  We are miles away from each other, but thanks to technology, we visit online almost every day, and we do video chats to share how we’re doing.

All of that…. Is my Mom. God blessed me in having an amazing Mom, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Little Prayers in the Wind

Yesterday morning I decided to try the boots again. This time I wore some nice thick cotton socks in a dark blue, which is my favorite color, with them. My feet were snug inside my boots, and I could tell the difference from the first time I wore them.

It was a beautiful morning with a temperature around the low 50’s, warranting the need of just a light jacket for the hike. I had seen the forecast for the day earlier and saw there was some rain to come later in the morning. The clouds were far enough away, and I thought, “I should be able to get a couple of hours of hiking before the clouds come in.”

It’s amazing how the weather backfires on you.

Four miles in, I could feel my hands getting colder as I walked down the trail. I was listening to music on my headphones, and signing obliviously to the songs. The cold air was making it harder for me to sign, and the wind began to pick up strength. “Uh oh.” I turned around to see the gray clouds coming in faster than I had thought, and some southern clouds already began dropping rain onto the city below. The northern clouds had already creeped over the city and met with the southern clouds, covering the sun. From where I knew I was, it was a good couple of miles away from my car still. I started praying. The last thing I wanted was to be soaked in cold winter rain.

My ankles began to get sore. The top part of the boots were beginning to make things a little uncomfortable. The socks helped a little bit, but the pain had already set in. “Oh, God. Help me.”

Just then, a strong gush of wind pushed me further down the path. It felt like a strong hand telling me, “Keep going. I’ve got your back.”

I had to laugh at the timing. “God, I hear ya.” I pushed through the pain and climbed through the ups and downs. The amazing part was when I climbed up the steep inclines, my ankles felt better. When I climbed down the declines, the wind pushed me, keeping me from slowing down.

I began to recognize parts of the trail being close to end, and, suddenly, I saw something white fly past my face.

Shocked, I checked my phone to see what the temperatures were and was surprised to see the temperatures had dropped 20 degrees since I had been hiking. It was at 34 degrees, which explained my cold hands and the sight of snowflakes.

I had to smile. God knew I loved snow and could handle snowflakes better than rain drops.

I dug my heels into the trail and pushed through the last quarter mile while I buried my hands into my jacket and danced in my head to music from the Newsboys and Chris Tomlin.

I got to my car just as the snowflakes began to blow down even more, and I could see the city below getting their share of the cold mix of snow and possibly rain. What perfect timing, I thought. I was able to get into my warm car just in time, and when I arrived home, the snow had turned into sleet, which is definitely more uncomfortable to hike in.

God can answer even the littlest prayers.

It was also a reminder that I am not alone. My husband had told me, after the hike, that his friend, at hearing I had done this hike, was impressed with me for doing it alone. No, I had to disagree. I wasn’t alone. I had Him pushing me the whole way, making sure I didn’t slow down and get caught in the blustery wind and sleet. I managed to do 6 miles in 2 hours. That’s pretty amazing, if you ask me.

It’s simple as that. God is good. Even in the little things.

Rather be like King David…

Last night’s mental battle in the decision of what church to go to was ended with some encouraging words from a sister in Christ. My heart longed for the fire from God… And the old church wasn’t going to have it.

I needed to find a place where I could worship Him like David did.

King David rejoiced in the streets of Jerusalem in just his underwear! Talk about pure joy and worship of just wanting to give his all for God. He was in complete ecstasy in knowing the Ark had returned to it’s rightful home. How much more should we be joyful in His gift of everlasting life through His son?

Well, okay, I wouldn’t go out in my underwear. I would be arrested if I did. BUT… I do want to worship Him as much as I could!

Sure… My old church had a good inspirational worship service. There were good songs and some good messages.

But I was hungry for more. I wanted fire. I wanted passion. I didn’t see it where I was before.
It was comfortable and easy, and I was feeling weak. It was almost as if I had become lazy and my spiritual muscles had become lax.

I really do believe God doesn’t want that.

Ephesians talks about putting on the whole armor of God; Moses was told to raise his staff high to lead Israel into victory; King David was given victory over Goliath, and it doesn’t end there. There are countless times that God uses a warrior to make His point.

Sure… those stories are in the Old Testament. But in Revelations 3:14-16 says:

“… These are the words of the Amen, the faithful and true witness, the ruler of God’s creation. I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor not. I wish you were either on or the other! So, because you are lukewarm- neither hot nor cold- I am about to spit you out of my mouth.”

I’m done being comfortable. It’s time for the fire…


I was driving along listening to my new Daughtry album that I had picked out. I had never heard him, other than on American Idol a few years back. The title grabbed me. “Break the Spell” For some reason I thought it might be a good listen, and I’m glad to say I was right.

The first song grabbed me, and I LOVED it. Renegade just got to me in my core. The words really resonated with some of the things that I had been feeling inside for a long time.

“Don’t you wanna feel like a rebel?
Renegade on the run?
Real live wire in the cross fire ridin’ shotgun

Not talkin’ ’bout a deal with the Devil
I said nothin’ about sellin’ your soul
Call it what you will
If you start to feel out of control…”

I had always felt like I was the odd one out… Born to be a rebel, you might say.

I grew up in a church that was legalistic about their faith. Scared the crap out of me a lot. I have a lot of issues because of growing up in that church. I can remember being in youth group and listening to the pastor rant on about how we are to be leaders for God… IN other words, be pastors and pastor’s wives for Him. I don’t know if everyone got that message, but I sure got that from them. “Oh, you weren’t allowed to be deaf and blind in one eye for nothing! You will save souls when God heals you.” Did He heal me? Um. No. I’m still blind in one eye and deaf, though I am probably more Hard of Hearing than Deaf. My right ear is pretty deaf though, but I can hear enough to be able to wear hearing aids to help me make it in this hearing world. When I went off to college, which was a pretty “rebellious” thing in their mind. God forbid I go 2000 miles away from home to go to a college that is fit for me! “She’ll stray from her faith. She needs to be within our churches.” To find out they had had such little faith in me really made me question them, but I was scared to even say or do anything. I was supposed to be such a good girl.

Then my world got turned upside down in 2000. A drunk driver decided to do just that. It was a miracle that I survived, and I don’t discount that. Going home and standing in front of my church, after just flying home from saying goodbye to a grandmother who wanted to see me before she passed, was weird for me. I was still recovering from the injuries of the accident as it had been just two months since then. “Oh praise God! He can use this to save souls.” Sure… He can, but really, I just got hammered from a stupid guy who decided to get drunk and that’s all you can think about! That was my thinking then. I was so angry and confused about it all. I also felt so isolated and tired of being so singled out like that. They saw the surface but not the inside. I was tired of being seen as this poor girl who has had the bitter end of the barrel. I wanted to scream.

That following year I got a tattoo. Oh. Yes. My first rebellious move.

I went home for a wedding I was in. Someone from my old church saw it and called me out on it. “Oh, so you’ve become a Heathen, eh?” That put the nail in the coffin. I was not going to return to that church again.

But I loved God more than just turning my back on him, though I admit I did have my time when I was angry and didn’t want to do anything with him. When you get to that point, it’s lonelier and hard. With some help of friends, I found my way back.

I fell in love with a Catholic and eventually became engaged to him. Oh, did my old church scream. I got a nasty letter from someone from there and I burned it. It was full of condemnation. I was basically damned to hell. Nice. A christian doing that? I wonder what Jesus would have said to that. I’ll let God deal with that… I had already promised my husband that I wouldn’t judge them. He knew how hurt I was as it was from someone I had admired growing up.

I became a Catholic. My family was upset from that decision. I thought I was doing the right thing as I was tired of the judgmental attitude I was getting from everyone else at the old church I was going to. It took me four long years of practicing it to make me realize that it was just as bad as my old church in how legalistic it was, if not, worse.

I decided to find a different church, and went with a friend to hers. I loved it for how embracing the people were. I needed a community as I had just moved into a new state in the past year with no luck in finding a place to plug into. On top of that I was with a two year old and a brand new infant. My husband was also not practicing Catholicism as well, so that really made me feel alone in a faith I did not grow up into like he did. I was at this new church for just a little over five years until things unraveled in my life. A lot of things had happened in those five years and recently it all just became too overwhelming. I look back and realize that my rebel nature didn’t fit in with that church at all. I didn’t do things the way they did it. I spoke up about certain things that I felt were wrong, and nothing changed. I don’t think I was ever really taken seriously.

“One-hundred miles an hour with the top rolled down
Racin’ the wind breakin’ out this town
Tryin’ to get lost but don’t want to be found, yeah”

I am still the rebel. I am tired of being the weak one. I do struggle with depression, and I know that might be why they don’t take me seriously. With all that I’ve put up with in some people, I do want to escape sometimes. I want to be where I am accepted and not judged. I don’t want to be put in a cookie cutter shape anymore, and I’m hoping as I move on in life I will find more people who will accept this rebel/free spirit person – Tattoos and all. (Yes, it’s more than one now)

As for a church, I have recently found a church that I hope will work for me. They rock… Literally. I know God made me to be this way for a reason, and I want to be the

“REBEL with a CAUSE,

and its HIM.”

And if God wills it… When the kids are older, there might be a motorcycle for me to ride around, let the wind whip in my face, and let me escape for a little while. That will make this Renegade happy.