As I'm sure many of you saw on the news and all over social media, there was a school shooting incident in South Carolina yesterday. It happened in a little farm town near Anderson and Clemson University. A 14yr old boy who was himself homeschooled killed his father in his home. He then continued to the nearby Elementary school where his mother was a teacher. He approached the playground out back where the students were having recess. He fired shots and struck his mother and two six year old children. Luckily, an off duty 30 year veteran firefighter happened to witness then and proceeded to tackle and apprehend the teen with no further injuries by stopping him from firing at anymore students and keeping from entering the school. He is a real hero and saved many lives with his heroism.
I watched a live news feed on FB while police investigated the crime scene with reporters giving frequent updates. below the feed comments were being posted from all over the world. Most were joining in the call for prayer that God would watch over the wounded. The thing that I got most upset about were posts from people making 'reverse racism' remarks. One stated, "Just more stupid white people doing stupid stuff". Another said, "if the shooter were white he wouldn't have gotten arrested, he would have been shot by some white cop". And then there was one who said, "blacks don't shoot at schools". This was the tragic shooting where innocent little children were hurt so what did race have to do with it? I certainly would not get away with saying the same things about blacks or Al Sharpton would be on my lawn doing a press conference. There is no place or time when these racist remarks should be tolerated but especially not when little children were hurt.
School shootings have increased since the Columbine and Virginia Tech incidents and after all this time no one has come up with a way to prevent them in the future. A metal detector at doorways is a good tool, but wouldn't have helped here because he was on the playground. We can't, as some people suggested yesterday, arm all teachers with guns. Usually, the guns the shooters use are from their own homes. I don't suggest making guns illegal because criminals would just buy them illegally. Parents need to not only keep their guns in locked safes or gun cabinets but they need to not let their children even know they own a gun or hide where the gun(s) are kept. This is a protective measure we employ in our house but for a different reason. My father is an ex-cop who has a concealed weapon permit but I have no idea where he keeps the gun. No, I'm not a child or a danger to myself or others, at least not consciously. You see, I sleepwalk and I have done some very strange things while asleep. One night about a year ago, I had a serious sleepwalking episode. I closed a gate we use to keep the dogs from going out the front door, I turned off our security alarm and was headed out the front door with my car keys in hand wearing only a nightgown. My mother heard the alarm being turned off and came quickly to stop me from leaving. She asked what I was doing at 3am. I told her I was late for school. She told me it was the middle of the night and so I said OK and went to bed. Since then I leave my keys in her room at night as a safety precaution.
People do have the right to own guns for their own protection but there's no need for a kid to even know about the presence of a gun in the home. Also, it's easier to get a gun than to get a driver's license. At least to drive you have to prove you know how before the DMV says have at it. Gun owners should have to be trained to use the weapon and the police should be able to do drop by spot checks of licensed gun owners to make them prove the weapon is secured and not accessible to children who live or just visit the home. To me that makes more sense than arming every teacher in America.
We also should prosecute the parents of school shooters if the parent's gun was used. It is their responsibility to make sure their guns don't end up in a kid's hands. We also should require certification training required of school guidance counselors that would familiarize them on warning signs to look for in the students they counsel. I hate to say it but to me school shootings are a symptom of the breakdown of moral fiber in this country and the lack of good family values in God centered homes.
As a country, we need to get pro-active on school violence instead of just re-active like we are now. For now all I can do is share my ideas here and hopefully spark some sort of intelligent discussion of how to solve this problem hopefully before it happens again. There is one more thing I can do and that is pray. I pray for all the children traumatized by yesterday's shooting and I pray for our country that maybe it's not too late for us to put God first in this country. Until we do that, evil stands a chance to prevail.
God Bless
Thursday, September 29, 2016
Sunday, September 25, 2016
ALMOST FATAL
I was very abruptly confronted face to face with my own mortality this morning. I had to go out early to feed dogs I was dog sitting. As I drove away from their house, I had a feeling (no it was a message to my heart) and it said you need to pray. So I sat for a minute, turned off the radio and began to talk to God. He's used to me talking to him from the car, by the way. I thanked God for the beautiful day and then said, "I don't know why, Lord but I need for you to watch over me and help me arrive home safe".
I was only a 10 minute drive from home so this feeling of needing to pray surprised me. I understood the why only 5 minutes into my drive home. I was going 40 - 45 MPH within the speed limit and no cars in front of me. In the oncoming lane, a car was holding up traffic to turn left into a church parking lot. As I got closer, maybe five car lengths away, the little old lady driving that turning car turned right in front of me. Now, I drive a large SUV so I'm not exactly hard to see coming.
I reacted on pure instinct, going back to defensive driving techniques my dad taught me when he was a cop. I slammed my Anti-lock brakes started to skid and cut the steering wheel hard to the left hand lane. Miraculously, the car jolted to a stop only inches from the other car's passenger door as the driver continued her very slow turn in front of me. My SUV was almost completely sideways from my cutting the wheel so sharp. Thank God my Ford Escape is a heavy vehicle or else I could have flipped it on its side.
I've heard of people in accidents having their lives flash before their eyes, but mine didn't. My daughter's life (her future marriage, her children and husband, her career) is what flashed because I knew I'd probably never see that. I also in a moment thought, "When is the last time I told my parents and my sister and daughter how much they mean to me?" I was shaking as I drove the rest of the way home praising God the whole way for saving me from the crash.
I get those feelings of needing to pray quite often. If I can, I stop what I'm doing and pray to God for
whatever his angels have put on my heart. I'm not crazy, delusional, or otherwise a nut case. I believe God sends his angels as messengers to speak to our soul. No matter what rationalizations non-believers may argue to me, I know something supernatural, not of this world kept me from harm's way this morning.
God Bless and please leave comments or click to follow future posts.
I was only a 10 minute drive from home so this feeling of needing to pray surprised me. I understood the why only 5 minutes into my drive home. I was going 40 - 45 MPH within the speed limit and no cars in front of me. In the oncoming lane, a car was holding up traffic to turn left into a church parking lot. As I got closer, maybe five car lengths away, the little old lady driving that turning car turned right in front of me. Now, I drive a large SUV so I'm not exactly hard to see coming.
I reacted on pure instinct, going back to defensive driving techniques my dad taught me when he was a cop. I slammed my Anti-lock brakes started to skid and cut the steering wheel hard to the left hand lane. Miraculously, the car jolted to a stop only inches from the other car's passenger door as the driver continued her very slow turn in front of me. My SUV was almost completely sideways from my cutting the wheel so sharp. Thank God my Ford Escape is a heavy vehicle or else I could have flipped it on its side.
I've heard of people in accidents having their lives flash before their eyes, but mine didn't. My daughter's life (her future marriage, her children and husband, her career) is what flashed because I knew I'd probably never see that. I also in a moment thought, "When is the last time I told my parents and my sister and daughter how much they mean to me?" I was shaking as I drove the rest of the way home praising God the whole way for saving me from the crash.
I get those feelings of needing to pray quite often. If I can, I stop what I'm doing and pray to God for
whatever his angels have put on my heart. I'm not crazy, delusional, or otherwise a nut case. I believe God sends his angels as messengers to speak to our soul. No matter what rationalizations non-believers may argue to me, I know something supernatural, not of this world kept me from harm's way this morning.
God Bless and please leave comments or click to follow future posts.
Saturday, September 17, 2016
ONE RED BIRD
“Give me that! Everybody comes in here wanting to get rid of all my stuff,” Grandma said as she snatched a two year outdated Medicare information book from my hands and proceeded to throw it at my head with as much might as her 91 year old body could muster.
I deflected the blow with a quick wrist but nothing could mend the stab to my heart. This wasn’t my Grandma that I’d loved and cherished for over forty years. I started sobbing as my mom came over to embrace me. I said, “Mom, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I did.”
“Baby,” Mom said, “you didn’t do anything. You just haven’t been here. You haven’t seen how bad she’s gotten.”
“I .. just…..” I stammered through tears, “.. want .. to . leave.”
“Honey,” Mom said, “She’s not the same since the dementia started. “It just keeps getting worse. We’re leaving soon. You just stay out here by the car and calm down. And stop crying sugar. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
On the twenty minute ride home, I replayed the episode over and over. I thought of her frequent complaints that her oldest son, and his son, (her grandson) were always yelling at her like a child and stealing her belongings to throw them away, could possibly not be the whole truth. In fact, my cousin being a confirmed bachelor had moved into her spare bedroom to help take care of her several years before.
I had spent the last eleven years living out of state over a thousand miles away with my daughter and husband and my last visit had been 4 years before. My Mom had relayed Grandma’s progressive loss of memory (particularly short term) during our phone chats, but I had no idea how serious and rapidly her condition was spiraling down. After my divorced in 2011, I moved back to be near my family.
My parents and uncle are in charge of managing Grandma’s daily affairs. There was no way to avoid Grandma’s dementia. It had become a part of my life. Although I had a little experience with dementia, I didn’t realize that dementia can present differently depending on the person.
My Great-Uncle had dementia for many years and it was of a very rapid progression. When I saw him on the last family visit, it broke my heart. His dementia seemed to have trapped this sweet 80 year old man’s body with the mind of a 4 year old. He had difficulty communicating, but when he did it was with a sweetness and innocence to what he said. I’ll never forget the struggling frustration in his eyes as he searched his mind for the exact words. But no matter how long the right string of words just wouldn’t come remaining elusive and just beyond his reach. Angry outbursts were very rare and usually at home directed at his wife. Unfortunately, we lost this wonderful man in November of 2011.
Grandma came to visit after the book throwing incident. It was obvious that Mom had mentioned what she did. Grandma settled on the couch and said, “Come here, darling. I need to talk to you.”
Her eyes were red and tiny tears tipped over the bottom lid begin maneuvering the ever slow luge-like tracks of her wrinkled face. “What’s wrong Grandma?”
“I know I hurt your feelings. But I can’t for the life of me remember what I did.”
“Grandma,” I said as I wrapped her tiny, skeleton-like hand in mine, “That’s completely in the past. I forgive you.”
Grandma continued speaking through silent tears and said. “I love you so much. You are the last person I’d ever want to hurt.”
“It’s OK, Grandma. I love you.”
I thought back to a day when Grandma screamed at the top of her voice and swung her cane at my mother. Were all these incidents all caused be the dementia, or could it be frustration with her limitations? Either way it’s the family members who must adjust.
I decided then and there that the cause didn’t matter. This was not the Grandma I’d known and loved my whole life. All I could do was love her as she was at this moment. Only God knew how much longer we would have her with us. On a daily basis it was the family that must be flexible and adjust because the disease has taken away the ability to change and/or understand. Dementia, no matter what kind or how mild or severe, it is indeed a body snatcher.
I leaned over and lightly kissed her tear stained cheek and embraced her fragile frame. “Grandma, I love you and you love me. That’s all that matters at the end of the day.”
Five years later, her refusal to cooperate with us about eating and hygiene among other things made dealing with Grandma's tantrums extremely difficult. One day a few months ago, she was staying with us for the weekend because her grandson had to go out of town. Every day, several times a day she would complain that she wanted to go home. We tried to explain that she was incapable of staying alone and she would then pout and refuse to speak to us. I admit on a couple of occasions, I lost my temper and would yell and explain and do everything short of shaking sense into her. I felt bad that I lost my cool but when I apologized to her, she had no memory of what I was talking about.
Grandma died just a few weeks before her 95th birthday. She was survived by two sons: my father, and my his older brother. Their younger brother passed away 11 years before. Unfortunately, truth be told some of the family descended like vultures on Grandma's house immediately after the post funeral dinner thrown by the ladies of my Grandma's church. My dad told them that no-one was going through her house that day. We decided everyone could come and stake their claim on any furniture, pictures, and bric-a-brac (which Grandma had in the form of porcelain birds) the following Saturday. She probably had a couple hundred birds on shelves through out the house. There were some sentimental things but nothing of incredible value.
So the following Saturday was the set clean up day. I didn't go for two reasons. One, I was still recovering from a hospital stay and Grandma's house had no air conditioning. Second, I find it distasteful to go through my Grandma's things and bring home things I had no room to display. My dad went to oversee the clean up and took my daughter with him.
When they got home, my daughter told me, "Mom I know you said you didn't want anything, but I brought this bird for you in case you change your mind."
I started to cry because it was a red bird, which were Grandma's favorite birds. Every time all my life if I saw a red bird I'd think of Grandma and then I'd make a wish. The old wives tale is that if you make your wish before he flies away it will come true. I put the little red bird on a shelf by my bed. I'm so thankful that my daughter didn't listen to me but rather knew once my grief had subsided a bit I might regret not having something to remember Grandma.
I loved my Grandma, and I'll always miss her. She lived a long healthy life nearly 95 years. She led a good life and I know she's finally reunited with my Grandpa who died almost 50 years before her; I hope she knew how much I loved her. I find myself talking to her whenever I see her bird. I'll always cherish that one red bird.
I deflected the blow with a quick wrist but nothing could mend the stab to my heart. This wasn’t my Grandma that I’d loved and cherished for over forty years. I started sobbing as my mom came over to embrace me. I said, “Mom, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I did.”
“Baby,” Mom said, “you didn’t do anything. You just haven’t been here. You haven’t seen how bad she’s gotten.”
“I .. just…..” I stammered through tears, “.. want .. to . leave.”
“Honey,” Mom said, “She’s not the same since the dementia started. “It just keeps getting worse. We’re leaving soon. You just stay out here by the car and calm down. And stop crying sugar. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
On the twenty minute ride home, I replayed the episode over and over. I thought of her frequent complaints that her oldest son, and his son, (her grandson) were always yelling at her like a child and stealing her belongings to throw them away, could possibly not be the whole truth. In fact, my cousin being a confirmed bachelor had moved into her spare bedroom to help take care of her several years before.
I had spent the last eleven years living out of state over a thousand miles away with my daughter and husband and my last visit had been 4 years before. My Mom had relayed Grandma’s progressive loss of memory (particularly short term) during our phone chats, but I had no idea how serious and rapidly her condition was spiraling down. After my divorced in 2011, I moved back to be near my family.
My parents and uncle are in charge of managing Grandma’s daily affairs. There was no way to avoid Grandma’s dementia. It had become a part of my life. Although I had a little experience with dementia, I didn’t realize that dementia can present differently depending on the person.
My Great-Uncle had dementia for many years and it was of a very rapid progression. When I saw him on the last family visit, it broke my heart. His dementia seemed to have trapped this sweet 80 year old man’s body with the mind of a 4 year old. He had difficulty communicating, but when he did it was with a sweetness and innocence to what he said. I’ll never forget the struggling frustration in his eyes as he searched his mind for the exact words. But no matter how long the right string of words just wouldn’t come remaining elusive and just beyond his reach. Angry outbursts were very rare and usually at home directed at his wife. Unfortunately, we lost this wonderful man in November of 2011.
Grandma came to visit after the book throwing incident. It was obvious that Mom had mentioned what she did. Grandma settled on the couch and said, “Come here, darling. I need to talk to you.”
Her eyes were red and tiny tears tipped over the bottom lid begin maneuvering the ever slow luge-like tracks of her wrinkled face. “What’s wrong Grandma?”
“I know I hurt your feelings. But I can’t for the life of me remember what I did.”
“Grandma,” I said as I wrapped her tiny, skeleton-like hand in mine, “That’s completely in the past. I forgive you.”
Grandma continued speaking through silent tears and said. “I love you so much. You are the last person I’d ever want to hurt.”
“It’s OK, Grandma. I love you.”
I thought back to a day when Grandma screamed at the top of her voice and swung her cane at my mother. Were all these incidents all caused be the dementia, or could it be frustration with her limitations? Either way it’s the family members who must adjust.
I decided then and there that the cause didn’t matter. This was not the Grandma I’d known and loved my whole life. All I could do was love her as she was at this moment. Only God knew how much longer we would have her with us. On a daily basis it was the family that must be flexible and adjust because the disease has taken away the ability to change and/or understand. Dementia, no matter what kind or how mild or severe, it is indeed a body snatcher.
I leaned over and lightly kissed her tear stained cheek and embraced her fragile frame. “Grandma, I love you and you love me. That’s all that matters at the end of the day.”
Five years later, her refusal to cooperate with us about eating and hygiene among other things made dealing with Grandma's tantrums extremely difficult. One day a few months ago, she was staying with us for the weekend because her grandson had to go out of town. Every day, several times a day she would complain that she wanted to go home. We tried to explain that she was incapable of staying alone and she would then pout and refuse to speak to us. I admit on a couple of occasions, I lost my temper and would yell and explain and do everything short of shaking sense into her. I felt bad that I lost my cool but when I apologized to her, she had no memory of what I was talking about.
Grandma died just a few weeks before her 95th birthday. She was survived by two sons: my father, and my his older brother. Their younger brother passed away 11 years before. Unfortunately, truth be told some of the family descended like vultures on Grandma's house immediately after the post funeral dinner thrown by the ladies of my Grandma's church. My dad told them that no-one was going through her house that day. We decided everyone could come and stake their claim on any furniture, pictures, and bric-a-brac (which Grandma had in the form of porcelain birds) the following Saturday. She probably had a couple hundred birds on shelves through out the house. There were some sentimental things but nothing of incredible value.
So the following Saturday was the set clean up day. I didn't go for two reasons. One, I was still recovering from a hospital stay and Grandma's house had no air conditioning. Second, I find it distasteful to go through my Grandma's things and bring home things I had no room to display. My dad went to oversee the clean up and took my daughter with him.
When they got home, my daughter told me, "Mom I know you said you didn't want anything, but I brought this bird for you in case you change your mind."
I started to cry because it was a red bird, which were Grandma's favorite birds. Every time all my life if I saw a red bird I'd think of Grandma and then I'd make a wish. The old wives tale is that if you make your wish before he flies away it will come true. I put the little red bird on a shelf by my bed. I'm so thankful that my daughter didn't listen to me but rather knew once my grief had subsided a bit I might regret not having something to remember Grandma.
I loved my Grandma, and I'll always miss her. She lived a long healthy life nearly 95 years. She led a good life and I know she's finally reunited with my Grandpa who died almost 50 years before her; I hope she knew how much I loved her. I find myself talking to her whenever I see her bird. I'll always cherish that one red bird.
Friday, September 9, 2016
Mr. Tommy's Story
Yesterday, I sat with a family friend named Mr. Tommy while his wife went to talk to his doctors. You see, Mr. Tommy was diagnosed with cancer many years ago. He had surgery to remove the cancer in his mouth and he was left unable to speak. We met Mr. Tommy at the hospital. This kind man volunteered with the Aiken Regional Hospital even with his disability. Incredibly, he volunteered working on the lobby information desk. He would write notes to answer questions and would accompany lost visitors to where they needed to go. In April he was given an award from the ARMC for excellence in communication and customer service.
He was fortunate that the cancer went into remission for a while, but now the cancer is back and the chemotherapy has been so hard on him physically he recently decided to stop the treatment. He's now on home hospice care. Mr. Tommy's wife called my mom about finding a young person to come on a regular basis and play with their six dogs because they are no longer able to go out and exercise the dogs. My mother is the coordinator of the Junior Auxiliary Hospital volunteers at Aiken Regional Hospital so she knows quite a few college students who could help.
It touched me so that I told mom I wanted to go play with the dogs, but I was having an attack of my pancreatitis and was hardly able to get out of bed, much less play with the dogs. But then a week later, after mom had found no one and I was feeling better, I called and asked Mr. Tommy's wife when they might need me. She told me about the doctor's appt. scheduled for Thursday and I told her I would be there to play with the dogs and help out with Mr. Tommy if needed.
Mr. Tommy was sleeping for the first hour I was there with the dogs. When he woke up, he came out to 'talk' to me with his note pad. I asked him if he was feeling any better and he wrote "I want to die". Reading that absolutely broke my heart. What's worse is the guilt I felt because I have been so sick pretty recently that I said I wanted to die. Now I realize how painful it is to hear someone say that so I made a vow to try to never say I wish to die ever again.
When his wife got home, they thanked me for taking the time to come help out and I told them, "I consider this a ministry. If I'm able to help others then I'm letting God's love show through my actions".
Mr. Tommy got his pad and wrote, "You should know, I'm not a Christian".
I replied, "that's OK Mr. Tommy. I can still pray for you, right? It can't hurt". He nodded yes. I then went on to share my testimony of being healed by God in 2013. I was in a coma and the doctors did not expect me to wake up or if I did wake up I would be a vegetable. They asked my family to sign a DNR (do not resuscitate order". My parents said no that as long as there was a God in heaven then there was hope i could be healed. I coded about 5 minutes later and they worked with me for over an hour and brought me back, but I was still in the coma for two weeks then I just woke up one day.
I told Mr. Tommy that the doctors at the hospital even told me that it was a miracle from God that I recovered. My MRI had shown necrosis (dead areas) on the corpus colosseum in my brain and they knew that dead brain cells usually can't be reversed, but mine did. I wasn't trying to preach to Mr. Tommy but I felt I had to say something to give him some hope and God was leading me in my heart of what to say.
I cried and prayed out loud all the way home. I then posted a request for prayer for Mr. Tommy on FaceBook. Many of you responded and I'm so thankful for all the prayers that have been going up for him. He has been such an inspiration to so many people that someone who can't even speak or eat food and has a feeding tube would take up his time by volunteering at the hospital to help others. So, let's keep this prayer chain going up for Mr. Tommy that he might regain to will to fight this battle and also that maybe he will come to know Jesus before it's too late. Thank you all for your prayers.
He was fortunate that the cancer went into remission for a while, but now the cancer is back and the chemotherapy has been so hard on him physically he recently decided to stop the treatment. He's now on home hospice care. Mr. Tommy's wife called my mom about finding a young person to come on a regular basis and play with their six dogs because they are no longer able to go out and exercise the dogs. My mother is the coordinator of the Junior Auxiliary Hospital volunteers at Aiken Regional Hospital so she knows quite a few college students who could help.
It touched me so that I told mom I wanted to go play with the dogs, but I was having an attack of my pancreatitis and was hardly able to get out of bed, much less play with the dogs. But then a week later, after mom had found no one and I was feeling better, I called and asked Mr. Tommy's wife when they might need me. She told me about the doctor's appt. scheduled for Thursday and I told her I would be there to play with the dogs and help out with Mr. Tommy if needed.
Mr. Tommy was sleeping for the first hour I was there with the dogs. When he woke up, he came out to 'talk' to me with his note pad. I asked him if he was feeling any better and he wrote "I want to die". Reading that absolutely broke my heart. What's worse is the guilt I felt because I have been so sick pretty recently that I said I wanted to die. Now I realize how painful it is to hear someone say that so I made a vow to try to never say I wish to die ever again.
When his wife got home, they thanked me for taking the time to come help out and I told them, "I consider this a ministry. If I'm able to help others then I'm letting God's love show through my actions".
Mr. Tommy got his pad and wrote, "You should know, I'm not a Christian".
I replied, "that's OK Mr. Tommy. I can still pray for you, right? It can't hurt". He nodded yes. I then went on to share my testimony of being healed by God in 2013. I was in a coma and the doctors did not expect me to wake up or if I did wake up I would be a vegetable. They asked my family to sign a DNR (do not resuscitate order". My parents said no that as long as there was a God in heaven then there was hope i could be healed. I coded about 5 minutes later and they worked with me for over an hour and brought me back, but I was still in the coma for two weeks then I just woke up one day.
I told Mr. Tommy that the doctors at the hospital even told me that it was a miracle from God that I recovered. My MRI had shown necrosis (dead areas) on the corpus colosseum in my brain and they knew that dead brain cells usually can't be reversed, but mine did. I wasn't trying to preach to Mr. Tommy but I felt I had to say something to give him some hope and God was leading me in my heart of what to say.
I cried and prayed out loud all the way home. I then posted a request for prayer for Mr. Tommy on FaceBook. Many of you responded and I'm so thankful for all the prayers that have been going up for him. He has been such an inspiration to so many people that someone who can't even speak or eat food and has a feeding tube would take up his time by volunteering at the hospital to help others. So, let's keep this prayer chain going up for Mr. Tommy that he might regain to will to fight this battle and also that maybe he will come to know Jesus before it's too late. Thank you all for your prayers.
Sunday, September 4, 2016
DATING OUTSIDE OF YOUR FAITH
Twenty years + ago, I didn't think about not dating outside of my faith. Granted I was not living my life with Christ at the center. I thought it didn't matter if I dated someone who was of a different religion or even if they were non-believers. I actually married a man who was an atheist. I had been raised in the Baptist church. Church twice on Sunday and prayer meetings on Wednesdays. I was active in the youth group, but as often happens, during college my church attendance was non-existent and my leading a Christian lifestyle kind of fell by the wayside. I thought I could make it in the world all on my own.
So I did marry a non-believer and it didn't matter at first. Then, I became a mother. I began attending the Episcopal church and found it a much better fit for my beliefs than the strict Baptist upbringing I'd had when I was younger. I had my daughter baptized and she and I attended church regularly. My ex-husband didn't mind since I wasn't trying to convert him. It was hard for me as my faith grew, not to have a partner to share my beliefs with. Eventually, he felt it would be better for my daughter if we went to church as a family. The surprising thing is that after I left and my daughter was away in college, he continued to attend church on his own. Maybe God used me to reach a non-believer, but now I make it a rule to abide by what the Bible says about the subject. It tells us not to be "unequally yoked".
Recently, I met someone nice online. We talked for several weeks and eventually met for dinner. Two days later I realized that I couldn't remember what his profile said as far as religious preference. I went online and looked only to find that he listed himself as non-religious. I had to call him, hoping all the while it was a mistake. I really liked him. But I knew that it would not be fair to him or to myself if I kept seeing him. When I spoke with him he said that he was an agnostic.
That set off a Biblical debate. The same arg;aments I've heard my whole life when people try to argue science vs. religion. I'm not a religious scholar but I do study the Bible and pray for discernment that I understand the word as God would have me do. For his every point against Christianity I had a counter-point. What it all boiled down to was that I told him I have experienced God moving in my life and everything comes to a matter of faith. We agreed it best that we not continue seeing one another.
This may seem harsh and judgmental, but in reality I'm doing as God commanded. It's hard enough for a couple to stay together these days if you complicate things by marrying a non-believer the cards are stacked against you from the start. I want a companion and partner in my life who shares my faith who understands that I lean on God and pray for his guidance. So, now, one of the first things I ask when I meet someone new is what is their religious affiliation. I trust that God will bring to me the partner he has planned for me to meet. I have faith that he knows my needs greater than I even know. I will definitely not date a non-believer ever again.
So I did marry a non-believer and it didn't matter at first. Then, I became a mother. I began attending the Episcopal church and found it a much better fit for my beliefs than the strict Baptist upbringing I'd had when I was younger. I had my daughter baptized and she and I attended church regularly. My ex-husband didn't mind since I wasn't trying to convert him. It was hard for me as my faith grew, not to have a partner to share my beliefs with. Eventually, he felt it would be better for my daughter if we went to church as a family. The surprising thing is that after I left and my daughter was away in college, he continued to attend church on his own. Maybe God used me to reach a non-believer, but now I make it a rule to abide by what the Bible says about the subject. It tells us not to be "unequally yoked".
Recently, I met someone nice online. We talked for several weeks and eventually met for dinner. Two days later I realized that I couldn't remember what his profile said as far as religious preference. I went online and looked only to find that he listed himself as non-religious. I had to call him, hoping all the while it was a mistake. I really liked him. But I knew that it would not be fair to him or to myself if I kept seeing him. When I spoke with him he said that he was an agnostic.
That set off a Biblical debate. The same arg;aments I've heard my whole life when people try to argue science vs. religion. I'm not a religious scholar but I do study the Bible and pray for discernment that I understand the word as God would have me do. For his every point against Christianity I had a counter-point. What it all boiled down to was that I told him I have experienced God moving in my life and everything comes to a matter of faith. We agreed it best that we not continue seeing one another.
This may seem harsh and judgmental, but in reality I'm doing as God commanded. It's hard enough for a couple to stay together these days if you complicate things by marrying a non-believer the cards are stacked against you from the start. I want a companion and partner in my life who shares my faith who understands that I lean on God and pray for his guidance. So, now, one of the first things I ask when I meet someone new is what is their religious affiliation. I trust that God will bring to me the partner he has planned for me to meet. I have faith that he knows my needs greater than I even know. I will definitely not date a non-believer ever again.
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