Monthly Archives: October 2011

Fear of Rejection

Dear Readers,

     This story was layed on my heart to blog awhile ago, but I didn’t have the courage to enter it, so I blogged some old memories instead.  But that is breaking the rules.  I promised the Lord I would blog whatever story He brings to my mind in my prayer time each week.

     Recently I heard a Pastor say, "More Baptists do this than any other denomination!"  That set me wondering about my own church fellowship.  Then I read in Dr. Stanley’s "In Touch" daily devotional that, "All people will at some time, in some way disappoint us.  The Lord is the only one who loves us perfectly and consistently." (10-16-11 entry, In Touch-A Prayerful Life.)

     I also asked a few dear Christian friends this week what I should do.  The answer was always the same, "If the Lord told you to do it, you have to do it!"

     So I can’t worry about rejection from my peers if the Lord wants me to enter this story.  I know in my heart, He does.  So here it is…

     From my Journal Written in 2001…

     My Prayer Language

     "Abbalee" I heard over and over in my head.  The strange word even jumped into my conversation occasionally.  What could it mean?

     As I look back now, I remember that for several months I had been praying for the gift of tongues.  I had been baptized in the Holy Spirit previously but no tongue gift, that so often follows, was experienced.  Many strange sounds had filled my head that day, but I didn’t understand enough about this newly discovered part of my Christianity.

     Then one day this one word, "Abbalee" filtered into my daily prayers.  For several weeks this went on until finally I decided to mention it to another Christian.  "Do you suppose this word could be the start of my prayer language?" I confided.  "I don’t know!  Ask the Lord" I was told.

     My intellect would not let me believe it.  I needed more proof.  Doubting Thomas had nothing on me!  So, I decided to research this unorthodox word.  Asking questions to many clergymen, hunting bible dictionaries and more, surfaced part of an answer.  One pastor volunteered a comment, "Abba means Father in Hebrew, but I don’t know what "Lee" means.  Could it possibly be two words instead of one?" he asked.

     I continued my search with that thought in mind.  Discovering that ABBA meant Father, had convinced me that it was a spiritual word.  I wanted to know more!

     My hunting paid off.  A bible dictionary revealed to me that a "Lee or Lea" was a dreg of wine in bible times and wine is the symbol for the Holy Spirit.  Together I deduced that wine symbolizing the Holy Spirit, and Abba meaning Father, had to mean prayer or conversation between the Father and the Holy Spirit through me.

     At that point I decided to free my speech to God, finally not doubting the words were from Him, and so began my prayer language.

     Daily I prayed, "Abbalee, Abbalee, Abbalee," and I just kept saying it over and over.  Within a short period of time more unknown words began to flow freely through my lips.  Prayer between the Father and the Holy Spirit, foreign prayer to me, for whatever reason God heard from His Spirit, prayer I knew nothing about, for people in need maybe?  Things I knew nothing about, but God did!  He used my mind and my tongue to connect in prayer for whatever reason He wanted.

     The Living Lord has continued to do this almost daily in my life for about twenty years now.  Something has changed though since the beginning.  Something quite profound!

     After several manifestations I started asking the Lord to reveal to me knowledge of what my tongue and mind were being used for.  "Please God, let me know what’s going on sometimes.  Thank you Father, in Jesus’s name I pray, amen,"  I asked in prayer. 

     And He did!  Not every time.  But sometimes.  And, I seem to know when it’s been revealed to me, that I was just praying for that situation.

     It goes sort of like this.  Prayer language words will pour out of my mouth and continue, often for hours at a time.  When I finally get a break, I’ll ask God for a word of wisdom or a sign of what’s going on and shortly after, usually that same day, a troubled person, or a trauma, or a salvation, or an illness, or whatever, will be revealed to me.

     Here’s an example.  This happened yesterday.  1.  The prayer outpouring came with no warning.  2.  The request from me.  3.  The revelation revealed.  A call from my daughter disclosed her company asked all employees to take a voluntary lay off.  She was very upset in the morning meeting at work, as she just bought a new car and was planning on house hunting in the near future.  She broke down in tears in the meeting, which embarressed her in front of all her peers.  (She never did get laid off back in 2001)

     Here’s another example that happened very late one night years ago.  1.  The prayer outpouring for hours.  2.  The request for wisdom from me.  3.  The revelation.  A dawn phone call from 2200 miles away that our Memei had died.  It happened during the late night hours.  Not understanding why, my inlaws said she was very peaceful at the end and she put her rosary beads away saying she no longer needed them.  My inlaws couldn’t understand why she did that, but we knew she found Jesus before she died.

     These profound prayer experiences are often accompanied with warmth and peace and also a loud humming sound in my ears that blocks out all surrounding noise.  At first I hid them from everyone but my mate.  Now I share them and use them as a witness to show people that God is alive and real and working in the world today.  I’m not always believed when I mention these revelations, but that is ok because I didn’t believe either, until I researched, tested, and saw for myself.

     We live in a very intellectual age.  Doubting is a lifestyle.  But we tend to forget who gave us our intellect!  God continues to show Himself over the ages, no matter how educated we get.

     "Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever." Hebrews 13:8 (NKJV)

                            Thanks for reading.   Love in Christ,  Claire   xoxo

 

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53 Chevy Bel Air Memories

Dear Readers,

     This story was before I gave my heart to Jesus, but I believe He was already watching over me.  He knew I would be His….

     The Yellow Bomber

     We had so much fun in that 1953 little yellow and white Chevy Bel Air.  My mom gave it to Teresa and I as an early graduation present.  We both graduated the same year (Make-Believe Twins blog) even though we were 15 months apart.

     I remember my older married sister Rose learning to drive in that car.  Her teacher was Teresa, my make-believe twin!

     I remember when I was a new driver and driving to fast, I hit a cat that ran out from under some bushes.  I swerved to try and miss him and a toddler came out of nowhere into the street, chasing the cat.  It frightened me so badly I watched my speed closely after that.

     I remember going to the drive-in movies and unloading a trunk full of kids after we got in there.

     But these are my two favorite memories…

     Packing that car solid with girlfriends, we were all feeling mischievous one Sunday night, so we put a couple dollars of gas in the tank and headed for the city.  We could drive all night on that, so we thought!

     In the 60’s the Sunday Blue Laws were still in affect, so all the stores were closed, leaving the mall parking lots wide open.  As we approached the Zayre’s strip mall we noticed a bunch of teenage boys playing football in the empty lot.  Impishly we decided to drive right through the middle of their game!  After a few passes the boys got angry at us, but we continued to tease them.  Wouldn’t you know it, we ran out of gas right in the middle of their game!  They swarmed the car and jumped all over it as we screamed on the inside of the bomber, wondering what we should do next.  We realized one of us had to get up the courage to get out of the car and go for some gasoline at a nearby station.  Of course, when we got out, the guys settled down, and we all started chatting and joking around.  A couple guys walked two girls to the station.   Some of the kids even set up dates for the next weekend. 

     While we were talking a police car drove into the parking lot and shooed us all out of there, but not before names and phone numbers got exchanged.  Those were simple carefree days in the early 60’s.

     This is my absolute favorite memory of that little Bel Air…

     In our senior year Teresa and I weren’t old enough to vote, but we were old enough to campaign.  John F. Kennedy was running against Richard M. Nixon.  All the teenage girls in our state were in love with the young senator from Massachusetts!  We covered our 1953 Chevy with posters and parked that car right in front of my mom’s package store business, which made her very angry.  In the days before the election we drove all over the county honking our horn to draw attention to the car.  On election night we went to bed very late thinking that Richard Nixon had won the presidential race.  But, in the morning we woke up to discover JFK was going to be our next president!

     That was a most exciting time for me.  I turned 17 in February of 1961, and John took office that past January.  Back then we couldn’t vote until we were 21, but we didn’t care, just as long as that dreamboat won the election!

     After graduation Teresa and I went to work for the same company, me in the payroll department and her in the secretarial department.  The bomber took us to work faithfully every day.  Computers were just coming into play.  Our company, Reed and Prince Manufacturing, had just set up a huge room with temperature and humidity controls for their enormous new room-sized computer.

     Eventually we passed the yellow bomber down to our younger brothers and moved on to marriage and kids.  I’ll never forget those wonderful high school years in the late 50’s and early 60’s!

           Love in Christ,     Claire  xoxo

PS   Next week my personal Kennedy memories.

   

    

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Halloween Horror

Dear Readers,

     Here is a quick little story that happened when my children were young that my daughter reminded me of….

     Halloween Horror – October 1977

     It was our usual October preparation time for Halloween.  We decorated our house, sometimes put costumes on the adults, shut off all the lights and put on some creepy music.  I was feeling uncomfortable about even celebrating this evil holiday, especially since God and Satan had become so real and alive to me.  Also, there were more and more dangerous events happening to young children every year, especially in the cities and subdivisions.

     We were living on Mineola Street in Colorado Springs at the time, and there were tons of kids in the neighborhood who went out trick or treating.  My kids as well, although I expressed to my family that I didn’t want to celebrate this holiday any more.  I even told my kids I would buy them a bunch of candy.  Mall trick or treating and Halloween parties weren’t very popular back then.  Just going door to door and staying out late so you could hit all the houses in your area.

     Well as usual, I reluctantly stocked up on candy knowing the doorbell would be endless and my kids went out trick or treating.  Adults didn’t even tag along in the seventies.  I handed out lots of candy and nervously waited for my children to return home.  When they did, I would always scrutinize their candy bags for crazy people’s dangerous treats.  I had a fight on my hands every time I mentioned stopping celebrating Halloween.

     As the children returned home and the neighbors coming to the door slowed down, I decided it was time to examine their bags.  The kids poured out their treats in different spots on the floor and I proceeded to check any item that was not sealed.  Straws were a favorite for the crazies.  Sure enough when I opened one of my daughter’s straws it was full of some kind of soap powder or detergent, I’m not sure.  I got frightened and wouldn’t let them eat anything until I checked all of it.

     Then as my son poured out his bag, I noticed he had fruit, which looked innocuous enough, but I didn’t trust anything open.  I told him, "I’m going to cut this in half just to check it.  And yet again, I found the apple was full of straight pins and needles that were so well hidden you couldn’t see them at all from the outside of the fruit.

     That was enough for me!  I freaked!  I grabbed all of it, every speck of anything and threw it all into the garbage can.  They were upset, but I could care less.  I told them, "Let’s go to the store and I’ll buy each of you a bunch of candy."

     That was the last time we ever celebrated Halloween in our family.  Oh, we still gave out candy to the neighborhood, but never again did my children go trick or treating.  Slowly but surely I convinced my family to do something special other than that old tradition.

     The crazies continued to hurt children and get in the newspaper the next day.  Almost noone ever got caught for what they did because it was impossible to trace that stuff.  And it’s so dangerous that many people have now gone to house parties or malls today, because they are supposed to be safer.  All for a bag of free candy!

                                   Love in Christ,     Claire    xoxo

    

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Pole In The Field

Dear Readers,

     I know you believe me when I tell you the Lord gives me my weekly blog stories, but this one He had to tell me three times to write before I accepted it, because it seems to me like an unimportant one to write….

     September 24, 2010- Friday

     In the 25 acre alfalfa field that lays out across a 180 degree view of our front porch, stands a tiny glowing pole in the ground.  From my rocking chair on the patio it looks like a fluorescent orange toothpick!

     About a week ago the field was cut for the last time this season as the fall solstice rolled in with record-breaking heat.  Our neighbor always cuts the second or third week of September.  And, as usual, when he is finished mowing, my hubby and I search the freshly groomed meadow for our landmark.  We sometimes spend a great deal of time looking for the minute square wood marker with a hole in the center, to put our glowing broomstick into.  It seems to give me a great deal of comfort knowing that a portion of that lovely clearing belongs to us.  But this is a false sense of security.  The land that God blessed us with is only ours for a short span of time, mainly our lifetime.  Not even that should we decide to move for some reason!

     As I took my two-mile walk in the field this morning I found myself searching for the small square marker.  Stupid really!  What changes anything in my life to get security from the little pole standing out there in the glebe?  Nothing, absolutely nothing!  It’s far more important to mention the answered prayer in this scenario.

     Soon my husband joined me in walking all around this huge acreage looking for our 3"x 3" square marker that we hadn’t seen since last spring when we removed our pole so Jim could start his seasonal haying.  We always take it out when the first cutting is ready so it won’t be in the way of our neighbor mowing with his massive equipment.  We allow him to mow our part and keep the hay for himself and his animals.  It keeps everything looking neat and saves us from having to maintain the huge area.  We have enough to mow around our house.  And after all, when we bought our home and land from him, he sold us an extra acre just to keep us happy.

     Anyway, we continued our fall search struggling to find the tiny mark of ownership.  Finally I said to my hubby, "Have we remembered to pray?  Please Lord, could You help us to find the spot?"  Within a couple of minutes I was saying, "I found it CJ, I found it!"  So our usual routine of putting up the pole was accomplished and we exited the field and I found myself again saying, "Have we even remembered to thank the Lord?  Thank you Father, thank you for Your help in our annual search, amen." 

     As the sun sets, sitting on my rocking chair looking out at the little orange pole once more, I realized that I’m trusting in me again, and not trusting in the Lord.  Why do I obsessively try to surround myself with bits of security?  I know it has something to do with 30 years of financial struggling, but isn’t it time I let go of these insecurities?  Isn’t it time I put into practice all the things I write about?

     "Lord, forgive me for constantly trying to hold on to the world, and not trusting more in You, amen."

                              Love in Christ,   Claire   xoxo

Proverbs 3:5, "Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding" (NIV)

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