Monthly Archives: July 2012

The Runaway

Dear Readers,

     I came across this story, written back in 1992, about my very precious godchild.  I hope you all enjoy it.  Pass it on if you like…


     The Runaway- Journal Entry July, 1992


     Often times we don’t realize the tremendous strength and gift we have in prayer power.  I’m sure Christians all over the world can tell dramatic stories, so I would like to tell you one of mine.

     My godchild is quite intellectual.  She was bored with public school at a very young age.  At 16/17 years old she ran away from home, rebellious and out of control and came to our house in Colorado Springs and lived with us for awhile.  We told her about Jesus and because she had no choice, she listened.

     After six weeks or so, her mother talked her into going home, even though she still wasn’t quite ready to return.  She hopped on a plane to New England, and as her parents waited anxiously for her at the airport, she was the last passenger to exit the jumbo jet. 

     Only home a short time, she again got restless and ran away, this time, trying her adventure at hitchhiking.  Her parents called us and were freaked and totally a wreck with fear.  With all the weirdos, rapists, and murderers out there, her parents and us, were frightened to death for her safety.  The four of us went into prayer like never before.

     Not being able to reach her was the most horrifying part for her mother and father.  We all had to trust in God completely.  Because my sister and her hubby were so frightened, they became incapable of anything, so my husband and I knew as Christians, it was up to us to keep praying and trusting in God.

     Not knowing where she was except headed for Florida with her thumb out, we prayed and fasted day after day, and night after night for her safety.  God was the only one who could control the person or persons who would pick her up along the 1500 mile stretch.  Finally word got to us that she had arrived safely to her destination down south.


     Mandy is now 30 years old and has a 10-year-old son.  For the first time recently she shared with me what happened on that runaway trip.  You see, a trucker picked her up near the Massachusetts Turnpike and took her to a truck stop, preaching to her all the way.  He was a born-again Christian and gave her a bible to remember him by.  When he finally dropped her off, he told her of the danger she was exposing herself to.  She then was passed safely to the next trucker, who notified another trucker ahead, who safely picked her up and this continued the length of the east coast until she reached her destination in Florida.

     Don’t ever underestimate the power of prayer.  Mountains are moved every single day!  So, pray for the world, pray for your enemies, your family, friends, and neighbors, whatever.  Because, I know, from that experience alone, that God hears every single word.

                      Love in Christ,   Claire  xoxo

Phil. 4:6+7, "Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.  And the peace of God which transcends all understanding will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." (NIV)

1 Peter 3:12, "For the eyes of the Lord are on the righteous and his ears are attentive to their prayer."  (NIV)


P.S.  Just a little update to 2012.  Mandy eventually went back to school and graduated Magna Cum Laude from Smith College in Massachusetts.  She continued her education and went on to get a doctorate in Molecular Biology.  Dr. Mandy is now a proud grandmother who, if not for the grace of God, might never have achieved any of this. 


Will I Ever Be A Writer?

Dear Readers,

     Today I have reached my 100th blog, a milestone for me, praise God.  I came across this journal entry and saved it for such an occasion.  So, very humbly, I enter my blog this Wednesday and thank God for completing my dream and for giving me this little ministry…


     WILL I EVER BE A WRITER?  Journal Entry, October 1987


     Late Sunday evening I glanced at my disgustingly full calendar and noticed by some miracle that I was free Monday morning of all daycare children.  "Praise the Lord, I’ll plan those hours for working on my writing," I told myself.  The excited thought stayed with me until I finally fell asleep that night.

     During the night my 11-year-old daughter was up several times with a stomach illness.  Nothing serious, just to much of mom’s homemade fudge I suspect.  Tired but still enthused about a whole morning to myself, I rushed my one kindergartener off to school.  Then the phone started ringing at 7:45AM.  "I’m sending your daycare check with my daughter on her way to school," one of my moms announced.  "OK, I’ll watch for her!" I told my neighbor.

     She never arrived at my house on her walk to school.  Thinking my check was lost, I spent the next hour searching the street, the school yard in back of my house, and the classrooms at the school, for my check.  Oh well, I needed the exercise and the cold fall air felt refreshing on my face. 

     After locating the precious $26 check I returned home to a ringing telephone, "Claire, can you help me make a few important calls for the ‘Pikes Peak Daycare Association?" (I belonged to this group)  They need to go out right away!"

     "Sure, why not.  Who do you want me to call?" I asked glancing at the speeding hands on my kitchen clock.

     With that job complete, I headed for my typewriter when suddenly the front doorbell rang.  There before me stood a three-year-old drop-in child to care for.  "I brought his potty.  Can you help train him?  He’s doing so well!  I’ll be back in only an hour or two!"

     "I can still get to work", I thought to myself as I reheated my cup of tea in the microwave for the third time.  Sitting down in front of my typewriter, the phone again began to ring.  "Hi Claire, I’ve got a problem.  Can I talk to you for awhile?" said a troubled Christian friend.

     "Sure," I sighed as I sipped my stale tea.

     "Mom, can I eat anything yet?" shouted my recovering daughter from her bedroom.

     "Yes, honey, you can eat now."

     "C.J. do you need to go on the potty?"  I patiently asked my toddler.

     Oh well, maybe I’ll get to work on my writing another day.  I’m to pooped in the evening when things finally quiet down around here.

     "Lord, will I ever have time to write?" I prayed as I put little C.J. on the potty and two kindergarteners arrived from school and joined the chaos.

     "YES, BUT BE PATIENT!" I heard the Lord whisper in my ears, "YOU HAVE THE REST OF YOUR LIFE TO BE A WRITER!"



     Now here it is 25 years after writing this journal entry, blog story #100, and my dream has come true.  I know this blog is not as dramatic or exciting as some of my other stories, but if you have ever had a dream you know what I’m talking about.  My dream was to glorify God in some small way.  In one hundred stories I hope and pray I have accomplished that for Him.

                                Love in Christ,   Claire  xoxo


Psalm 37:4, "Take delight in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart."  (NIV)

1 Peter 5:6, "Humble yourselves, therefore, under God’s mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time.  (NIV) 



God’s Answer Machine

Dear Readers,

     This story was told to me by one of my city bus passengers back in 1993.  I journaled it because it was so precious.  I hope you all enjoy reading it.  Pass it on if you like… 


     God’s Answer Machine- Journal Entry March 1993


     A very sweet regular passenger of mine decided to tell me of a recent miracle in his life.  Here is his story told to me today…

     "Claire, I would like to tell you a story!" Mike said to me.  "My answer machine had not worked for several months.  I guess I dropped it on the floor one to many times.  One day the stress level was extremely high at home as I prepared a eulogy to read at my big brother’s funeral.  Our closeness must have been the reason the family chose me to read a poem I had written about him years ago," Michael continued.  "My brother’s death to Hodgkins Disease was long and painful for all of us.  At 43 years old he had suffered enough."

     "Anyway, a short time after his funeral I decided to hook up the broken answer machine and give it a try.  It was so messed up I was convinced that it would never work again.  But, one day the phone rang and it accidentally triggered an old message.  When I picked up the phone and said hello I heard, ‘H–Mi—-I’m —-ome!’  I was the only one who heard it.  ‘Did you hear that?’ I asked my wife.  ‘No,’ she told me.

     "I picked up the machine and fussed with it for several minutes and finally found messages I never heard before, and one of them has given me great peace!  It was from my deceased brother.  He always checked in after his doctor appointments.  A few months ago he called and left me a message I never received.  It went like this, "HEY MICHAEL, I’M HOME!"  I believe it was a sign from God that my brother is now home with Him," Mike finished joyfully.

                        Love in Christ,   Claire  xoxo


     Update-  Journal Entry May 22, 1993

      I must write a brief exciting piece of news!  Michael has turned his life over to Jesus!  Last night on my bus he told me he prayed to the Lord, "Not to just any God or spiritual being, but to Jesus Christ," to come into his heart.  He said it was all because of me witnessing to him.  But, as he talked more and more about his salvation, I realized it was because of an elderly lady who lives next door to him who has been faithfully praying for him for over eight years.  He told me he has always been there whenever she needed help, and she in turn, prayed daily for him.

     1 Cor. 3:5-7, "What, after all, is Appollos?  And what is Paul?  Only servants, through whom you came to believe–as the Lord has assigned to each his task.  I planted the seed, Apollos watered it, but God made it grow.  So neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but only God who makes things grow." (NIV) 


The Poet Is God

Dear Readers,

     I do not write poetry.  I never wrote it.  I don’t understand it!  I flunked poetry in school!  But, on my Easter Sunday walk I had a pad and pen with me and these words spilled out of that pen.  Hope you enjoy the message…


     The Poet is God      Journal Entry- April 8, 2012


           THE POET IS GOD

     With a stroke of Your hand, You paint the clouds,

     With a teardrop You put out a fire or flood the earth,

     With a scrape of Your nails You cultivate the fields,

     With Your breath a tornado wipes out our world,

     With a wave of Your arm You calm the sea,

     With a blink of Your eyes a virgin conceives,

     With a touch from above You create a Savior,

     And with a sigh, You take Him away.

     When will we listen?

     When will we look up?

     When will we realize how miniscule we are?

     When will we figure out how much we need You?


                             Love in Christ,   Claire  xoxo