First Installment: Meet My Sister

Second Installment: The Functioning Years

Third Installment: The Maelstrom

Fourth Installment: Like Sunlight Burning at Midnight

Fifth Installment: Stepping Out On the Water

Sixth Installment: A Different Street

With a heart spilling over with affection and wonder, I hand you joyfully to my beloved sister, Gay, for her final installment in this powerful series. Don’t worry. I don’t believe this will be the last time you ever hear from her on this blog. I’ll get her to chime in here and there if she feels the leadership of God. But, still, this is a tender moment, watching her wrap up this gorgeous streaming testimony of Christ’s unfathomable grace. That same grace also saved and delivered me. Saved and delivered you, if you’ve let Him. If you do not know Jesus yet and you have never received the gift of His life offered for you on the Cross – a gift you cannot earn or deserve or be born into – and the power of His resurrection that strips us from our grave clothes and covers us in robes of righteousness, do not wait another day. Today is the day of your salvation. Get down on your knees, lift your face toward Heaven and express to God in your own words that, by faith, you willingly and earnestly receive His glorious Gift and desire to be saved, to turn from your own destructive way, and to follow Him. Believe with your heart and confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord. And, Child, YOU WILL BE SAVED. And nothing – I do mean nothing – will ever be able to take eternal life from you.

My beloved big sister, I will let you take it from here. Words fail me to express my appreciation. We are changed by what Christ has done through you here. He alone will be able to give you a precise account of the lives altered. “My brothers (and my SISTERS), if anyone among you wanders from the truth and someone brings him back, let him know that whoever brings back a sinner from his wandering will save his soul from death and will cover a multitude of sins.” James 5:19-20  You, Gay, have been this “WHOEVER” to so many.

 

And, now, from her pen…

Hi Sisters!

My life is so sweet today both on the outside and on the inside.  Much has improved since I walked off the concrete.  Improved would be an understatement.  Wildly improved, exorbitantly improved, inconceivably improved would be far more expressive.  Gregg was right when he said that we cannot fathom the dreams and plans that God has for us.  Paul knew it too when he wrote his first letter to the Corinthians.  God might have told him about it but my guess is that he had experienced it after he fell to the ground on the dusty Road to Damascus.

“However, as it is written:

What no eye has seen,

what no ear has heard,

and what no human mind has conceived

the things God has prepared for those who love Him.” 

1 Corinthians 2:9 NIV

 When I got here in mid-April of 2009, all I asked for was sobriety and a roof over my head.  I’ve said many times to many people, “Sobriety is the best gift I’ve ever been given in my life and if it’s the only one I ever get, ITS ENOUGH!!”  And it would have been enough, Ladies.  Quality sobriety has brought great abundance into my life:  trustworthiness, integrity, self-respect, meaningful relationships with my children and siblings, employment, housing, improved health, the ability to feel, etc.  I am so grateful for it that I sometimes burst into tears and I always, ALWAYS thank God for another day sober in my every prayer.  I am still very clear that it comes first, that the devil is not very creative and that He hasn’t forgotten how to tempt me and lie to me in the same old ways.  So I keep it first on my priority list, always.  I never become complacent to the fact that I have the disease of alcoholism.  It’s in my brain and all I have to do is tip that celebratory drink and the beast will come forth just like it did the last time.  It doesn’t have to prove that to me again.  (Step 1, by the way.)

However, sobriety is not all I got!  I have gotten, first and foremost, a continually healing and fully restored FAMILY.  Although Tut and I did not reconcile marriage-wise, our relationship today is one of acceptance, trust and solid teamwork where the boys are concerned.  We are today – and will forever be – very dear to one other.  I know, I know, we girls like a Cinderella story but really, don’t fret. I’ve got my Prince!

The two little boys in Sugar Land?  They are just WONDERFUL!! The three of us are wound so tight that they sometimes wish I would pop free.  Not happening!!  They’re not getting rid of me, not any time soon anyway.   Zach is now 26 years old, a graduate of Savannah College of Art and Design with a Bachelor of Arts in Visual Effects and has been gainfully employed since 3 weeks after graduation in 2008 as a 3D Render Artist.  He is the best person I have ever known and never loses sight of his God-given purpose for this season of his life which is to take care of Josh.  He has laid his life down for his brother and their souls are knit together as one.  They will have that for a lifetime, long after Tut and I are called Home.  God so wonderfully works all things together for good for those who love Him. 

Josh is 17 years old and in his senior year of high school.  I don’t know which one of us has enjoyed his senior year more, him or me.  I’ve spent this entire school year with him soaking up every single minute trying to make up for years lost.  I know that our days together are numbered now that he is becoming a man.  There have been many miracle moments between a redeemed mother and a once abandoned child where I have so wished to press the pause button to freeze them in time yet a moment longer.  He has grown so much inside and out, come out of his shell, become Josh apart from the rest of us.  I have fallen head over heels in love with him as with his brother.  One especially thrilling moment was during opening night of this year’s high school musical, The Wizard of Oz, on January 28th.  I sat perched on about the 5th row of Rogers Auditorium as the curtain opened on Kansas.  Josh had been cast as the Cowardly Lion just two months before.  Although some of my family members have quite a stage presence, I certainly didn’t know Josh was one of them.  I was impressed out of my mind that he had learned his lines.  All of them!  When he sprung onto the stage in all of his Cowardly Glory I squealed with laughter, cried for reasons unknown and cheered out loud all at the same time.  I had seen him grow over the weeks but I was, in no way, prepared for fully Josh.  He was confident, accomplished, ironically COURAGEOUS, adorable, funny and oh so entertaining.  He was fully himself, fully Josh, fully alive.  He stole the show and it took my breath away.  I sat in awe during those miracle moments with my hands clasped at my chin whispering “Thank You, God” over and over again.  I realized that God had not only healed me but that He was healing my son as well.  Josh’s performance that night was brilliant with the absolute highlight being his delightfully humorous delivery of the song King of the Forest.  How appropriate is that?  Applause please!!!

One quick note:  I haven’t had to preach to my children or grovel over my past mistakes.  I have simply had to stay sober, be present and fully engaged, and shine the Light.  God so masterfully takes care of the rest.

I also got the best job on the face of the planet, handpicked just for me.  I work at Mercy Street!  You knew that already.  At around one year sober, I just so happened to be making my way through the still buzzing Mercy Street hallway that I had come to call home.  I rarely got an opportunity to have a personal conversation with Gregg Taylor, most beloved, most popular “street” pastor.  He most often has a captivated audience.  But somehow (we all know how) I did this particular night.  I was looking for a job, uh … an office job, and Mercy Street just so happened to have had their Administrative Assistant’s position come available that very week.  Now, you might think that was mere coincidence but I have come to believe that coincidence is simply God’s way of remaining anonymous.  That job was mine!  I knew it from the minute Gregg spoke it and I cried all the way through the service that night.  God meant for me to be employed at Mercy Street where I could most effectively carry the message to the alcoholic who still suffers and to anyone who might have lost hope.  I heard Beth say during the Esther series that our destinies cannot be severed from our histories.  I was so perfectly placed at Mercy Street not despite where I had been but BECAUSE of where I had been, and where I had been delivered from.

When I got to New Hope 35 months ago today I looked long and hard at the steps hanging on the wall and my eyes rested on the words “a power greater than ourselves.”  I was a weakling when I got there.  I was beaten up, burned out and practically in a fetal position.  The cat was a power greater than me!  I didn’t need a power greater than myself — I needed a power greater than King Alcohol.  I needed the biggest, baddest power of them all!  I needed a great power with extraordinary muscle, strength and COURAGE.  I needed the King of the Forest.  I needed the King of the Universe.  I needed the King of Kings…

“Ah, Sovereign LORD, you have made the heavens and the earth by your great power and outstretched arm. Nothing is too hard for you.”  Jeremiah 32:17

… so I set out to find Him through His way for my life that day and each day since.

“You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.  I will be found by you,” declares the LORD, “and will bring you back from captivity.”  Jeremiah 29:13-14 NIV

On the 20th day of next month I will have 3 full years of sobriety.  Wow!!  None of us humans, especially anyone who knew me before sobriety, would have ever dreamed I would have YEARS of sobriety.  The fact that I am walking through this life, taking care of business, parenting, working, paying bills, doing laundry, laughing, crying (and everything in between) SOBER after a lifetime of drinking is, well … a flat-out miracle from God!

I try to imagine sometimes what exactly happened in the heavens that night under the bridge.  In my limited mind’s eye, I see Almighty God in the image of man sitting at a grand oak desk drumming His holy fingers across the surface among dozens of beautiful, INCONCEIVABLE plans, drawings and designs.  He’s waiting, whistling and waiting, drumming and waiting, patiently but not nervously waiting.  He’s known it was coming since the foundation of the world but I like to think that He gets a hint of sweet satisfaction in being the Boss and whispering, “Hurry up, Gay, we’re waiting!”  I think that even before the aching, desperate cry of “God, please help me” fully crossed my lips He had already leapt from desk to chariot and, with a loud trumpet sound, shouted to His angel armies, “She’s ready!  Go get her!!”  He knew, even though I didn’t know, that I had surrendered and that I would be willing to lay down my own failed plans and follow the ones He had custom drawn for me, just for ME.  Upon His great command, the armies must have flown across the heavens in all of His Amazing Glory to the intersection of Sabo Road and the Sam Houston Tollway where the first appointed angel stepped through the veil as Tut in the flesh.  Or maybe the first appointed was Zach who, knowing where I was, had asked his father to go fetch me for fear I would die that very night.  Or maybe the first appointed was Jerry who had gotten us from Galveston to Houston in the first place that rainy Spring in 2009.  Who knows?  Only One.  All I know is that they were all appointed. 

I did not do this by myself, Sweet Sisters.  An ARMY of “angels” wrapped in human skin have helped me and were strategically placed in my life by Almighty God Himself.  There is no amount of white space for me to list them all and some names I don’t even remember if I ever knew them at all.  From the street to New Hope to The Women’s Home to Mercy Street to Living Proof — from Southeast Houston to Pasadena to Montrose to Sugar Land — from a power greater than myself to Jesus, the One and Only.  They were and are everywhere if we only open our eyes to see, our hands to receive and our hearts to feel.  I don’t believe that any two of us cross paths by mistake or mere coincidence.  I believe that the positive, negative and seemingly insignificant people, places and situations add value to our lives based on how we respond to them and learn from them.  Its all a matter of perspective, isn’t it?  If we change the way we look at things, the things we look at change — being transformed by the renewing of our minds.  I only hope to have the most honorable assignment of being divinely appointed by Almighty God Himself to reach out to a friend in need, a fellow sojourner, a perfect stranger, a ragamuffin, the hurt, the lost, the seeking.  Here am I, Lord.  Please send me.

I stepped out on my back porch the other morning and in more of a casual talk with God rather than a prayer I cried, “Oh thank You, oh thank You, God, for not letting me die before I got this, before I got You, this sweet relationship, this rollercoaster of a ride, this ebb and flow of faith, trust and sheer awe that leaves me begging for MORE.  I wouldn’t have wanted to miss this.  It would have been such a shame to have missed this.  Thank You for saving me so that I could experience this … experience You.  You are the Love of my life.  You are the Great Love of my life.  And I am Yours.”

I know today despite my shortcomings, failures and imperfections that to Him I am Beautiful, I am Redeemed and I am Loved.  I have been seized by the Power of a Great Affection.  I have been Saved.  I have been Forgiven.  I have been raised from the dead to walk in New Life.  I have been Resurrected.  Wow!  It just doesn’t get any better than that, does it?  Not in this life. 

I have a CD of Travis Cottrell in my car that I like to listen to LOUD.  Track 9 is an old hymn with a new and wildly improved sound.  The ending words have never once failed to bring on the tears.  They go like this:

The redeemed will sing forever,

The redeemed will sing forever,

The redeemed will sing forever

Jesus Saves.

Amen and Amen. 

Dear Sisters,

I thank you for letting me share with you my story or, better yet, Christ’s story weaved into mine.  It has been one of the greatest privileges of my new life.  Thank you from the bottom of my heart for each and every comment and word of encouragement.  This divine assignment has been quite a challenge and I needed you all to charge me on.  You became like my angel army in this endeavor.  Isn’t that so cool?  I have watched you minister to each other and pray for each other and pray for ME.  I’ve experience many miracle moments sitting at this computer, reading and typing and trying my best to let God speak to you through my mumbling and fumbling to express the Inexpressible.  Our testimonies have much power, don’t they?  People love to hear that Jesus still saves even today.  We love to see tangible evidence of it too.  We love to see living proof!  Thanks Beth, for giving us this beautiful venue and for giving me an opportunity that would have only lived in my dreams.  You’re the best!  I’m pretty sure that I’ll never be the same after this experience.

And again, thank You, oh thank You, my sweet Jesus for loving me and showering me with Amazing Grace.  I love you with all my heart.  I am Yours always.  All of me. 

Loved you are,

Gay

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(Drum Roll Please!)

According to our random drawing, the lucky winner is…Gail Denlinger! (Comment posted on March 15, 2012 at 6:40 am.)

Gail, if you would please email me at [email protected] with your mailing address, we will get this Bible in your hands as soon as possible. Congratulations, Sister! Y’all check back next week for another fun giveaway. Have a wonderful weekend!

 

Update: Comments are now closed. Ladies, y’all are SO incredibly fun. And might I add serious about your Bibles and Bible translations. Praise the Lord! Check back tomorrow morning for the fun announcement of our lucky winner! And while I have your attention, our Siesta Mama actually gets up to speak at the conference for the first time in about 2 1/2 hours (It’s already Friday there). Your prayers would be so appreciated! See you in the morning!

Good Wednesday afternoon, Siestas!

By now you may have seen on twitter (if you’re a twitter user) that Beth and Amanda made it safely to Sydney! Jet lag is no joke there because in case you were wondering, Australia is 16 hours ahead of us. I kept joking that they were flying into the future. Whoa! You honestly would not waste a prayer on them as Beth and the team prepares to minister to the folks attending the Colour Conference. They are so pumped, but it doesn’t come without sacrifice and a lot of work. If you’ve not already been praying, start praying now because since they’re almost a day ahead of us, the conference begins sooner than later!

Anyway, we didn’t want the blog to suffer while our Siesta Mama was gone, so I’m here to do our first fun giveaway! (Yes, we’re doing another one next week. I know you’re pumped!)

I don’t know about you, but I love getting a new Bible.

In fact, just this past Sunday at church I was thinking it was time to put my old one aside and start searching for a new one. True story. I don’t know how much longer it will actually survive as it is literally falling apart (I don’t say that because I’m so spiritual, but more so to prove to you how old it is) and I don’t feel like digging out the duct tape to repair this one. (You know you’ve done it before, too!) Since I’m a creature of habit, I tend to stick with the same study Bible time after time, but I’m feeling kind of rogue and might venture out this time into the land of the unknown.

As much as I love getting a new Bible, there is a certain degree of separation that is hard to part from my old Bible. We’ve been through a lot. And I love looking back at all I’ve underlined and marked up. But I suppose a new season calls for a new Bible.

Anyway, I know you’re probably wondering why I’m going on and on about my Bible, and maybe I’ve convinced you that you need a new one to, to which I’ll say you’ve landed in the right place!

We have a really fun giveaway that I think you’ll like.

Recently our sweet Beth received a Life Essentials Study Bible (“The First Multi-Media Study Bible”) with her name engraved on the front. For those who are curious, the translation is the Holman Christian Standard Bible (HCSB). Here’s the deal, if our Siesta Mama hadn’t just purchased a new Bible for herself just prior to receiving this one, she would have kept it for herself. It was such a kind gesture from the publisher, but she really wanted to gift it to one our Siestas!

Besides this being a study Bible, it has some other really neat tools that I’ve personally been playing with to make myself familiar with it the past few days.

With our technology changing and updating as quickly as newborn babies change outfits everyday, it’s no shock to me that this Bible has a new addition to it that can be used with your smart phone.

If you look at the front cover (pictured above), and inside the Bible (there’s a little peek below), you’ll see a bar code looking symbol. That nifty little symbol we refer to as a QR code. If you own a smart phone, you can download a free QR Reader app, and then all you do is use that application to scan the bar code to find out more information about that particular item. All throughout this Bible are hundreds of QR codes that take you to a website to find out more information about that particular scripture. How fun is that? You certainly don’t need a smart phone to win this Bible, but that’s just a little bonus for those of you that do own one.

So, who is interested? Listen, if it weren’t for you, Siestas, I would have already claimed it for myself.

Here’s how it will work:

1) Leave a comment with your first and last name. If you don’t leave both, you won’t be eligible for the drawing!

2) For fun, if you’re into this kind of thing, go ahead and tell us in brief your favorite Bible. Shout out to all the Precious Moment’s Bible owners out there! I’m pretty sure I still have that one stowed away somewhere safe. What joy!

Ready? Set? Sound off in the comments! We’ll leave the comments open until 3:30 on Thursday afternoon (CST) and then we’ll do a random drawing and post the winner at the top of this post later that day. That means you will have a little over 24 hours to enter, so be on the lookout to see if your name appears!

Although I don’t want to assume everyone is on spring break, I would imagine most of you are, so if that’s the case, we so hope you’re enjoying every minute of it. And if you don’t get that luxury, I’m praying the Lord delights you where you’re at and gives you an extra dose of rest.

We love y’all!

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Hey, Darling Things!

I am packing up an overseas suitcase to board a long flight to Sydney tomorrow evening and I just want you to know where your blog mama will be all this time. I’ll be in Australia for two weeks and that is substantially longer than I’m ordinarily away so I thought you might need a heads up. I have the privilege of serving alongside my beloved Priscilla Shirer at the Hillsong Colour Conference for two weekends in a row. (The conference repeats a second weekend for another group of women.) It feels so good to put my head together and plan messages and themes with Priscilla again. We got in that habit with the Deeper Still events and I’ve missed it! Not only does she inspire me. She also gets me tickled. We will also serve with a panel of other speakers that I’ve not had the privilege to meet yet. Priscilla has been several times so she’s a veteran and will teach me the ropes. I am looking so forward to Colour and to gazing upon all those gorgeous faces, alight with the Spirit of Christ. I can hardly believe the trip is finally upon us. Amanda is going with me and we ferociously wanted Melissa to go, too, but she was unable to swing a week of it and was afraid the one week she had would be almost wasted amid the long flights and jet lag. We will miss her like nobody’s business.

Here’s a picture of the brochure and also the Queen who is staring at me 24/7 because she’s caught onto the fact that I’m about to skip town. I would give anything to take her. We have never been apart this long. Don’t you think they’d be blessed by my darling little Dingo?

I still hope to check in with you here and there in a couple of brief posts over the next two weeks but the best way I can probably keep up with you is on Twitter. For those of you who haven’t joined us there yet, our Twitter address is @Siestaville and we have tons of fun on there at times like these when a blog post is harder to make happen. You’ll hear from our Lindsee a number of times in the next two weeks (watch for some fun giveaways!) and Gay’s final supplement will also appear on the blog while I’m gone. I know you’ll be rocked by that. Her contributions over these last couple of months have been priceless.

I will miss you so much but will try to keep up. I am serious when I say that I think of you every single day and you are always on my heart. Hold tight to Jesus and stay in the Word. Please pray us there and pray us home and pray safety and joy and lack of negative drama (I love positive drama) on our family members as we all scatter for two weeks. Curtis will head to Missouri with the children to see his family for Spring Break while we’re gone. He’s a brave man indeed! And please, please pray for the Lord Jesus Christ to fall with enormous power and fiery affection on us at the Colour conferences. We want Him so badly.

When I get back, we’ll start planning Siesta Summer Bible Study. Oh, yes, ma’am, we are having it. We have active blog days ahead! You are so loved here, ladies. So very loved here.

Keep walking the thing out. Jesus is worthy of it.

 

 

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First Installment: Meet My Sister

Second Installment: The Functioning Years

Third Installment: The Maelstrom

Fourth Installment: Like Sunlight Burning at Midnight

Fifth Installment: Stepping Out On the Water

First, from Beth…

Last week in our staff prayer and devotional time at Living Proof, we talked about restoration. I told them that it had occurred to me afresh that, for the word “restoration” to technically (or perhaps literally) apply, something had to have been lost that was re-found. I, then, asked if any of them wanted to share examples. For the next fifteen minutes we got tears in our eyes over one story after another and also erupted into raucous applause. It was such a powerful time. I know my coworkers well but, with the theme of restoration re-framed in its most technical sense, so much sounded brand new. I have no bigger personal testimony of restoration from the last five years of my life than that of my own beloved big sister. Someone asked me a few days ago how often I talk to her. I shrugged my shoulders, looked at the person a little blankly and said, “All the time!” We are in touch in one form or another – text, email, or phone – all the time. Or without such generalizations: most weeks, multiple times a week. Just like we used to be. (Not just when we were growing up, but when we were young wives and young mothers.) It is a miracle. And not one I have taken for granted for a single second yet. Gay and I tried hard to hold onto one another through the years she described. Never think for a moment that we gave up easily. Life’s just really hard at times and circumstances complicated. I had my own trash. My own issues. And even in the midst of them, I missed her terribly and with much turmoil. Anyway, humans prove inadequate saviors and demons prove relentless. On every side. But they did not win. Praise You, merciful L0rd. I love you wildly, Gay. And, because I do, I will now shut up and hand you the microphone.

 

Hi Sisters!!

Praise God, Jesus in Heaven, that in this particular story, my story, we are finally on the road to recovery, right?  Whew!!  As I reread my own words in the last installment about my having to “do something different,” I was reminded of Autobiography in Five Short Chapters by Portia Nelson.

Chapter 1:
I walk down the street.  There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.  I fall in.  I am lost.  I am helpless.  It isn’t my fault.  It takes forever to find a way out.

Chapter 2:
I walk down the same street.  There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.  I pretend I don’t see it.  I fall in again.  I can’t believe I am in this same place.  But it isn’t my fault.  It still takes a long time to get out.

Chapter 3:
I walk down the same street.  There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.  I see it is there.  I fall in … it’s a habit … but my eyes are open.  I know where I am. It is my fault.  I get out immediately.

Chapter 4:
I walk down the same street.  There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.  I walk around it.

Chapter 5:
I walk down a different street.

I love the growth in ALL of the chapters and I am encouraged that each fall I took, although unbeknownst to me at the time, brought me closer to a different street and ultimately closer to God and His perfect will and purpose for my life.  It has been that way stumbling forward as well …

At New Hope I sat with Great Hope in literally hundreds of meetings and as I applied everything to my life and situation, there were two things that I heard loud and clear.  I heard that if I wanted to stay sober I must be willing to go to any length and I heard that I must enlarge my spiritual life, heavy on the must.  Without those two ingredients, I would surely fail and I was not about failing, not THIS TIME.  To fail was to die or wish I was dead.  At this point, neither was acceptable!  I had committed my life to God and although my freedom from the bondage of addiction had come divinely from AA and the 12 Steps, I had a yearning within my heart to return to the Jesus of my childhood.  I had an unquenchable thirst to know more of this God who had saved me from underneath the bridge.  I had MET Him there and had grown closer to him as the chains of addiction fell but, like a good addict, I wanted MORE!!  When I had gotten to New Hope just weeks before, I could barely form a thought much less a sentence.  I was so sick and tired and broken in all ways, not just physically.  Through the fog though, wafted a scripture that Beth had given me during my first stay in treatment years before.  I couldn’t even begin to quote it but I remembered that it was a promise of hope and a future.  As soon as I could get a Bible, I flew across the pages of Jeremiah and rested on what became my signature verse, my mantra.  I ate, lived and breathed these words.  Man shall not live on bread alone …

 

Jeremiah 29:11-14
New International Version (NIV)

For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you,” declares the LORD, “and will bring you back from captivity. I will gather you from all the nations and places where I have banished you,” declares the LORD, “and will bring you back to the place from which I carried you into exile.”

At 5-1/2 months of sobriety (wow!), I moved to a beautiful, well-established, highly-respected transitional living facility called The Women’s Home.  Ladies, I was 54 years old when I walked off the street on that sunlit night in April 2009 and I had lost everything.  I not only needed sobriety and a whole lot of God in my life, I needed to recreate my life and I could not do it alone.  The Women’s Home is an 18-month, whole life (emotional/mental, physical, fiscal, social, vocational and spiritual), 3-phase residential (dormitory, transitional housing, independent living) program and it gave me a new life.  As I dealt emotionally with leaving New Hope where so many miracles had happened that I don’t have enough space to list them all, I knew that God was leading me elsewhere.  I could feel His warm favor at what I had done in response to His call at New Hope and I could feel it as I continued to step outside my comfort zone onto the living water of faith.  I was not afraid.  Not one bit.  I was able to work through such issues as divorce, loss of family unit, childhood trauma, grief, guilt and immense shame through group and individual therapy and lots more step work!  Although sobriety remained my number one priority, I was able to delve deeper into what had made me what I became — what the “father of lies” (John 8:44) had pampered and watered and nurtured for a half a century, trying his level best to bring me down.

But God …

I arrived at The Women’s Home on Monday, October 5, 2009, and as I was also on a mission to enlarge my spiritual life, I got on the church van the following Saturday night like a first-grader waiting for the bright yellow school bus on the first day of school.  Remember I had been “raised up” in AA and I had a deep love and respect for the steps and the fellowship.  I was not too keen on abandoning what had “brung me,” as my Nanny used to say, and just diving off into Bible study!!  (That would come later.)  I had prayed many times something like this, “Lord, can’t we put the two of those together somehow, You and me?  I need the steps in my life but I need Your Word in my life too.  Please God.”  I stepped off the church van and walked through the doors of a very unique, yet warmly comfortable and inviting “church,” or better yet “community,” so appropriately named Mercy Street.  It was held in a traditional Methodist church yet the hallway was hustling and bustling like no church hallway I had ever been in before.  I can barely describe it!  Maybe it was what was going on inside of me; maybe it was both.  First of all, NO ONE was dressed in their Sunday best; quite the contrary, everyone had on jeans and shorts and flip-flops (it was too hot yet for leather!), some sporting Harley Davidson shirts and some baring the most beautiful tattoo art I’ve ever seen, although modestly dressed.  They, or should I say we, weren’t all like this.  There were the Nancy Wilfongs too — actually there is but one Nancy Wilfong.  Nancy is the epitome of the traditional church lady all the way from her beautifully salon-coiffed do, not a hair out of place, to the tip of her pedicured toes. She has a smile as big as Texas and sits happily on about the 10th row of Mercy Street every Saturday night without fail with all the rest of us ragamuffins.  I think there must be some ragamuffin in Nancy somewhere.  I think there is some ragamuffin in ALL OF US.  We are all in such need of God’s grace, aren’t we?  In need of His mercy.  I was just right comfortable at this place called Mercy Street.

I browsed through the bookstore and spied a daily meditation book entitled Breaking Free Day By Day which was written by my first favorite author whom I had just spoken with for the first time in over a year just a few days prior to that.  The wounds that I had gouged during The Maelstrom were more than my family could bear and they had the same fears that I had, that I would REPEAT yet again.  They had not been on this journey with me this time thus far.  They had not seen me do something different.  God had a very nice surprise in store for all of my siblings but most especially for my littlest sister with whom I had played Barbies, shared secrets long forgotten, raised children beside, adored and admired as an upcoming leader in women’s ministry while I was bursting with pride yet green with envy. One whom I had also lost in my plunge to the bottom of the pit.  Beth and I had finally talked (major milestone) just 5 days before I was standing at the bookstore cash register with her book in my hand. While I was waiting impatiently to check out, I thumbed through some key chains on a display close to the register.  Hanging on that display was a round key chain with “29 eleven” on it.  Twenty-Nine Eleven, 29-11, Mmmm, 29:11!!!!!  I flipped it over and my MANTRA was on the back of it.  My mantra, nobody else’s mantra (haha), MY MANTRA!!  God’s promise to ME.  I was in the right place.  I knew that without a shred of doubt even before I entered back into the buzzing hallway toward the service.

I found an empty seat close to the back and, although much healed in comparison to what I had been, I still felt a little out-of-place, not quite together, not quite good enough, stained, soiled, UNWORTHY.  The lights soon went down, the band started to play and I heard Richard (but didn’t know his name then) sing to me, “You bring hope to the hopeless and light to those in the darkness and death to life, NOW I’M ALIVE.” And he sang them straight to me and the tears streamed down my face.  Because I was dead and now I’m ALIVE.  I saw people from all walks of life, both rich and poor, more together and broken, black and white, addicted and non-addicted, tattooed and non-blemished, walk up to a microphone and celebrate things that we only whispered about, judged and ridiculed in the church I was raised in.  I saw the pastor’s son celebrate a period of sobriety right there in that room.  I heard people celebrate that they were getting their children back, getting jobs, serving in their communities and STAYING SOBER against all odds.  To this day, Ladies, I still cry during Celebrations because it is Mercy Street at its best.  Because at Mercy Street we have the freedom to be WHO WE ARE, just as we are, past, present and living into our God-given futures.  No frills, just AUTHENTIC.  It’s beautiful.

Gregg Taylor, Mercy Street Pastor (and my sweet, sweet friend) did a sermon that night, or in his words, a Talk entitled “Awake.” It was the first sermon I ever heard Gregg preach and I’ve heard many since but few have impacted me like this one.  God meant for it to be that way.  He meant for it to GET MY ATTENTION, for me to know that I had been delivered by none other than the Deliverer, Jesus Christ, Son of God, and for me to know exactly where He intended for me to enlarge my spiritual life!  Gregg preached that very night on Jeremiah 29:11 and, oddly enough, he preached again on it this last Saturday night just two days ago before I’m writing this installment.  I heard him say that very first night that our wildest imagination cannot fathom the dreams and plans that God has for us.  I heard him say that I am more than they think I am; I am more than I think I am; I am more than I think God thinks I am; I am who God thinks I am, who God says I am!  Since then I heard Gregg say that we humans do not have the capacity to forgive some wounds, that only God has the power to put that forgiveness in our hearts if only we will receive it.  I heard him say that I was created just below the angels and that God loves me with a love that is jealous and furious and shameless.  I heard him say that the greatest display of God’s glory is the human being fully alive. (Quoting Irenaeus) I heard him tell us just a few weeks ago to look around at who was sitting next to us if we wanted to see Jesus.  After all, we are the Body of Christ, this church, this community, are we not?  I kept coming back week after week after week until I believed what I heard and it began to sink in all the way down to my toes.  I heard it and I received it and I saw it in others right there in that very room.  I was home.  I LOVE THIS CHURCH!!!

At Mercy Street we desire to create a safe harbor for the hurt, the lost, and the seeking so that we might experience the radical grace of God.  We believe that our “believing is conditioned by belonging.” We “come to believe” within a relational environment of shared experience.  Our community forms a mosaic of people diverse in our experiences and backgrounds but common in our desire to seek a closer relationship with God and with each other.  Whether you have faith, struggle with your faith or have lost faith, a place like Mercy Street opens its doors to everyone seeking a spiritual roof over their head.  A lot of us are involved in recovery from addictions or bad church experiences, and the stuff of life that has left us bruised, battered or broken.  We believe Jesus is the healer and restorer of our hurt, pain and brokenness and invites us into a safe community where the progress of healing and growth occurs.  Our gatherings are filled with live music, authentic faith journeys and practical messages set in a casual, come as you are environment.  We extend a gift of Christian community to everyone, no matter what faith, religion, addiction, or experience.

I walk down a different street … a street named Mercy.

Thank You, My Jesus.  Amen.
PS from Beth. Many of you unfortunately don’t have access to a church like Mercy Street but any church can learn to extend authentic Biblical love, mercy, and grace even amid our human imperfections and inevitable trials and errors. Churches are not made of bricks and steeples. They are made of people. Any street could become a mercy street if we’re willing to stand on its curb with humble feet, open our arms wide, and welcome wanderers in Jesus’ Name.  There on that “street”, no matter what their background or previous belief, we get to show them the way to the one and only Savior, the living Lord Jesus Christ. May they “taste and see that the Lord is good! Blessed is the man who takes refuge in Him!” Psalm 34:8

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A week ago I took a flight from Houston to Nashville along with my friends Kelsey and Megan, both juniors in high school, to the LifeWay Girls Conference. Here are a few reasons I was excited for the trip:

1) It was my first visit to Nashville ever. Not sure why it took me so long to get there but after hearing so much about it, I loved it.

2) I got to spend the weekend with some super fun high school girls.

3) My job at LPM is two-fold. Although I do media, my other focus, and for sure more important, is young girls. I’ve been learning all things media lately, so the other half has taken a back seat. To be neck deep in girls ministry all weekend was not only good for my heart, but has my mind spinning in all things girls ministry. Which is a very good thing.

LPM and LifeWay have a good relationship already so to hear from their staff and other girl’s ministers was a total bonus. Why re-invent the wheel when we’re all reaching for the same goal?

LifeWay has hosted this conference for three years now and I am so thankful to LPM for sending me. By the way, LifeWay was a wonderful host. Each and every staff member and the way they loved on the guests was so inviting and loving. It came at just the perfect time as I’m praying through and seeking what young girls ministry looks like at LPM. Young girls are a different in respect to the issues they deal with, but we all need the same Jesus.

Girls, just like women, need authentic relationships, vulnerability, honesty and some good, solid Bible teaching. They can smell a fake a mile away. But at the same time, they’re so self-aware it’s hard to sometimes crack the shell, but certainly not impossible.

My favorite aspect about the conference was the breakout sessions. They had separate sessions you were able to choose from for the leaders and the girls. I attended one called “The Secret Addiction”, which dealt with the issues on girls and pornography, which is another post for another day, but it was very powerful. Another one that really spoke to me was about pressing in and pressing on in ministry, which was all about taking care of yourself and your relationships in ministry. Can you say relevant? How often do people in ministry pour themselves out to the point of exhaustion or worse, burn-out, but never attend to their own soul? I walked away very encouraged, built up and much wiser.

Not only did I benefit from the conference, but the girls did as well. I know for a fact they enjoyed the different breakouts they got to choose from.

I’m not saying I have answers, but I have ideas. I’m asking the Lord to press in and reveal what the next step is. Where do we start? I’m so ready. Have I mentioned before that I dearly love me some young girls? Oh, I do.

The conference ended Saturday evening, so before taking off Sunday morning, we had Saturday night to explore Nashville’s hot spots. After eating some authentic Tennessee BBQ, my friend Heather who lives in Nashville chauffeured us to visit the Gaylord Opryland Hotel. It was beautiful and we loved getting to walk around, explore and eat gelato.

It was an excellent weekend. It you’re a girl’s minister, high school girl, or have a high school girl, I’d say it’s worth sending her next year. Let’s get these girls immersed in some Bible study and life-giving, life-saving truths.

One thing I know is true; this generation of girls certainly has my heart and my attention.

Morning worship with Jamie Jamgochian.

My sweet friends Megan and Kelsey. This was Friday night at the main session!

Saturday afternoon during break-time with the girls. I think we were ready to take a nap at this point.

A little Tennessee BBQ. SO good, y’all.

You know you’re spent when you look in your backseat after a long weekend and see this in your backseat driving home from the airport. I love it!

Thank you to both LPM and LifeWay for investing in our weekend. I am so grateful.

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It’s been too long, Sweet Things! Let’s hop on line for a livesteam devotional tomorrow at 11:30 AM CST. Want to? I’m hoping to hit many of your lunch hours so it could be a tad more convenient.

This one can be open to anyone so you’re welcome to invite women to join us who aren’t regulars in our community. I’ll look so forward to visiting with you then!

Remember, if you hop on there early: the password is up there while we get set up but it comes down a few minutes before we air.

Here’s the link:   www.livestream.com/livingproofministries

I’m wild about you guys!

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Hey, Siestas! Today is a really great day for fighting human trafficking, wouldn’t you say?! Matt Redman’s new single “Twenty Seven Million” is available on iTunes here in the United States this very day. This incredibly powerful song was recorded live at Passion 2012 and I kept singing it for days after I got home. It’s the kind of song that clicks immediately in your soul and keeps hitting repeat. I will be so glad to hear it again in their gifted voices instead of my own. Grin. You will totally love the new recording and downloading it will also make you a part of powerful move of God to educate the world about the atrocities of human trafficking and press forward toward the goal of ending it in Jesus’ Name. Sing to it. Dance to it. BE AWARE OF IT. Be part of doing something about it.

To enjoy and also join in, download it to your computer: click here.

In order to do this, you do have to have iTunes installed on your computer. If you don’t have iTunes, no fear, simply click here and follow the steps provided. In case you weren’t aware, iTunes is free so you just pay for the individual music. This song is just $1.29.

If you do have iTunes, another easy way to find the song is to simply search “Twenty Seven Million” in the search bar of your iTunes.

Basically what we’re saying is, do whatever you can do purchase it, own it, be a part of it,  love it and spread the word about it! It’s a very inexpensive way to be part of something HUGE. Something that could touch 27 million lives.

What you may not know is that, besides recording it live, we also filmed the official “Twenty Seven Million” video at Passion. You don’t know what adrenaline feels like until you hear 44,000 people singing, “We’ve got to rise up, open our eyes up. Be her voice, be her freedom, come on stand up!”, all while jumping up and down like pogo sticks. If you really want to have some fun and experience vicariously what we experienced that night, you can watch the video on YouTube here. However, if you’re willing, don’t stop at watching the video. Become part of this freedom cry with us!

I love you, Siestas. You are dear to me. Let us not grow weary in doing some honest-to-goodness good!

PS. We’ll schedule a livestream really soon! I was so preoccupied for eight days with Mrs. Mary Helen’s homegoing that I had to drop out of the loop for a little while. I thought of you everyday anyway. Thank you for your gracious hearts toward her and your many comments regarding the testimony of her life. It meant so much to me.

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First Installment: Meet My Sister

Second Installment: The Functioning Years

Third Installment: The Maelstrom

Fourth Installment: Like Sunlight Burning at Midnight

 

The fifth out of seven installments from my sister, Gay, to you…

 

I was never the same after that night … and who would want to be anyway???

I think there is a lot of fear in change.  Fear of the unknown, of what we will become, of who we really are, of life, failure, being uncomfortable, not being good enough, pain, and how to handle or ease that pain.  Addicts and alcoholics have found a solution for pain.  For me and many of my friends, alcohol wasn’t just the problem; it was the SOLUTION.  So now, since I have anesthesized my pain for a lifetime, I am in FEAR, because the pain might kill me.  I might come apart at the seams.  And then what?  The unknown.  More fear.  I’ve been told that when the pain of holding on becomes greater than the fear of letting go, that THAT is when we become willing to give up the drug (the painKILLER) and step out onto the living water of faith.

I knew that I couldn’t stay in Sugar Land forever, that my time there was limited.  It was the FIRST TIME I had not had visions of grandeur, of being able to put my little family back together.  I had repeated that time and time again to no avail and had ended up in relapse every single time.  All I knew was that God had performed a miracle in my life that very night under the bridge and that I owed Him, my family and mySELF my very best shot this time, for THIS TIME, I feared, would be my last.  Otherwise, I would surely die.  My ONLY option, the only one this Miracle God deserved was for me to do what He put in front of me to do to the best of my ability, and what I became so aware of later was that where my ability failed, His took over!  He continued to supply me with strength and perseverance to endure the race He had set before me, one day at a time.

For three days, Tut gave me a roof over my head, a so-very-soft-comfy-warm bed to sleep in (ahhh), food to eat and a phone.  He did not make one call for me.  I knew it was my responsibility to get busy and find help.  I did that — it was what God put in front of me to do for those three days.  The only place in the Greater Houston Area that would take me with no insurance, no money and no I.D. was a women’s detox center in Pasadena called New Hope — so beautifully named, isn’t it?  Now, New Hope is not a fancy-schmancy place like my first treatment center was, in fact, it isn’t a treatment center at all.  It is a house for women to non-medically detox from alcohol (and some other drugs), getting fully sober and staying that way through living the program of Alcoholics Anonymous.  My sweet sisters, God did not drop me onto the church steps to get sober.  He dropped me smack back into AA again — not weak, watered-down AA but what I love to call Nazi-AA.  New Hope does not play.  They require 4 meetings per day followed by hours of Big Book study (the AA text) followed by getting a sponsor and working the 12 Steps.  Period.  Or you get kicked out!  God knew that I had not HEARD all of the prior times He had put me there and He meant for me to HEAR this time.  He meant for me to hear that I was alcoholic and that He had provided a most wonderful solution for me that required work on my part.  He meant for me to ACT!!!

This reminds me of a scripture that Beth has memorized and taught on several times:

“Therefore get your minds ready for action by being fully sober.”  1 Peter 1:13.

I could turn those words around and say, “Therefore get your minds ready for sobriety by being fully ACTIVE.”

Sweet sisters, this disease lives to kill.  It is chronic, progressive and FATAL.  There is no wonder that a smaller percentage of us recover from it than fall victim to it because it is also a disease of DENIAL.  We continue to try to convince ourselves over and over again that WE DON’T HAVE IT!!  I believe that it is the enemy’s most powerful tool and that there is no amount of ACTION too great to arm ourselves with the tools required to fight it.  I also believe that the enemy is hateful, insidious and low-down enough to use our faith in the Power of God to keep us from using the very tools that He has provided for us to ARM OURSELVES!!!  I beg you do not under-estimate the power of this disease.  I watch the walking wounded come through the doors of Mercy Street every Saturday night, back in treatment again, back from jail again, back off the street again, and I wonder how many won’t make it back the next time.  I made it back purely by the extravagant, unlimited grace of God — I should have died out there.  My friend, Jerry, did die out there.  He drank himself to death and was found in a puddle of vomited blood inside an abandoned house in Texarkana, Texas alone.  He was 39 years old.  I know that he is with Jesus and I know I will see him again in Heaven, SOBER.  But, my friends, Christ means for us to have FREEDOM in the land of the living.

For you, LORD, have delivered me from death,

my eyes from tears,

my feet from stumbling,

that I may walk before the LORD

in the land of the living.

Psalm 116:8-9

I wrote these words to Beth as she prepared to go to a conference where she would speak about 1 Peter 1:13 above.  It is the shortest description of what I did to HONOR MY GOD and get to where I am today.  I have edited it just a tad here and there but, for the most part, it is in tact.

To Beth, August 2011:

It has been my experience that sobriety and action are symbiotic.  One cannot exist without the other.  I must get sober, e.g. put down the drink, detox, go into treatment, in order to perform the action required to stay sober and subsequently follow God’s will and purpose for my life.  It’s not easy!!  It takes a lot of work.  It takes a lot of action.  Today, I do what I do (Mercy Street, treatment centers, the Houston Council on Alcohol and Drugs, sponsor ladies and take them through the steps, go to meetings, share my testimony, experience strength and hope) for many reasons but the gift, the by-product, is that I get to stay sober and without sobriety I am nothing and I am able to DO nothing.

To document all the work that I have done over the last two years and four months is far more than you want to muddle through, believe me, but I will tell you this.  When God jerked me up off that concrete in mid-April 2009, He dropped me in AA, not in church.  I might have liked for Him to drop me in church but He didn’t.  I knew that I had blown all of my other chances, all of the other times that He had dropped me in that very same place.  I had to do something different which was ANYTHING but sitting around waiting for Him to heal me and DOING nothing.  I had to abandon my way and do it His way.  I had to unweave all of my plans and trust HIS PLAN.  Right there, right then, on April 20, 2009, His way for me was AA.  I could see that as clear as a bell, no questions asked.  He has required a lot of work from me, a lot of action, one day at a time, whatever He put in front of me that day.  It started with chores and following simple house rules followed by getting a sponsor and working the steps.  I believe that God has wanted me to do that work all along but that I was too stubborn or prideful or entitled or all of the above to do it.  I knew that it was working because at 90 days sober I not only had 90 days sober but the obsession to drink alcohol, which I had battled with for 37 years, had been removed.  Poof!  Just like that.  I was neither thinking about drinking nor thinking about not drinking.  It was not a thought at all.  I was calm and acting sanely and normally.  Step 2:  Came to believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to SANITY.  Bingo!  Poof!  Done!  Now I have to STAY THAT WAY.  I saw that the work, the ACTION, was paying off more than I had worked (because God was working behind the scenes in my behalf) so I continued on that course of ACTION.

My sweet Sisters, I do not have the words or the white space to say what the process of working the steps did for me.  All I know is that as I wrote down and spoke out and prayed for my enemies and made amends to my loved ones and reached out to another alcoholic, the chains started falling off of me one by one and I was able to wiggle free.  The resentment, fear, unforgiveness, unwillingness, dishonesty, pride and pure-dee SELFISHNESS that had been blocking me from Him fell away and I stood naked, just as I am, in Grace and Gratitude and Awe and Light.  I stood in FREEDOM and in the Pure Love and Favor of God.  To quote Manning again, I had been “seized by the Power of a Great Affection.”  I had experienced a Spiritual Awakening (Step 12).  Talk about replacing the need to self-medicate?  I had found the SOLUTION.  I had found the Power or He had found me.  We had found each other, a match made in Heaven.

On a short walk to the nearest convenience store one hot morning in July 2009, I surrendered my life to My Jesus and promised to follow Him, wherever He may lead me, for the rest of my days and to do what He asks of me.  I spent a lot of time praying and asking God to reveal to me what His purpose was for my life until I finally figured out that His purpose is for me to stay sober, do what He puts in front of me each day, and to step through the doors that He opens for me, despite my fears and my inadequacies.  I didn’t realize at the time that each day was getting me closer to my destiny as I continued to put one foot in front of the other.  The days would turn into weeks, then months, then years and then ONE DAY He would drop me onto the church steps where He was leading me all along!  “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD.

It is as simple as this, Ladies.  I had to do something different.  Albert Einstein is quoted as saying “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again expecting different results.”  Since I had failed every which way I could possibly fail, I had to do everything different.  I had to do it opposite from how I had done it in the past.  I had not applied anything to my life — I applied everything to my life.  I had not been willing to get a sponsor and work the steps — I got a most wonderful sponsor and worked the steps honestly and wholeheartedly.  I had gotten into relationships that had taken my focus away from my recovery — I had NO RELATIONSHIPS.  I had not been willing to do long-term treatment — I stayed at New Hope for 5-1/2 months and then moved to The Women’s Home in inner-city Houston for 16 months totaling 21-1/2 months of solid, safe, quality care, sobriety and life recovery.  I had prayed to God to deliver me and then expected to wake up sane and sober the next morning and stay that way for a lifetime — I worked my head off day after day in accordance to His will for my life and was graciously given sanity and sobriety in return.

The National Association of Christian Recovery states this:  “NACR is passionate about joining the work of Jesus in the world — partnering with, instigating, resourcing, disturbing, advocating and influencing the manifold ways that Christ seeks to transform and liberate those in addiction.”  Manifold is defined as “of many kinds; numerous and varied.”  God has created and provided numerous and varied paths to recovery, Alcoholics Anonymous simply being one of them and the one that worked for this serious, hardcore, dedicated, classic, textbook alcoholic.  Whichever path you choose, do it with all your heart, all your strength and all your might.  I had to put sobriety first and foremost in my life for without it I had nothing and could do nothing.  By doing that, I put God first and He has honored that wholly in me.  Matthew 6:33 says, “But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.”  In my case, sobriety is His kingdom!  And He has stood by His promise over these 34 months and 3 days to usher in the rest of what I so desired and much, much more that I never could have imagined.

Oh, by the way, if you walk into the doors of AA pull your walls down, check your judgment at the door and open your mind, unlearn the habits that have been standing in your way to freedom and be willing to do things different, and hold on tight to the similarities rather than the differences.  Yes, there are non-believers in AA — they just might be in our churches too.  If I go there I might not only GET SOBER but I might, just might, be able to shine the light of Jesus in the darkest night by simply looking straight in the eye of a sister who is scared to death to step out on the water of faith, smiling warmly and saying, “Hello, my name is Gay and I’m an alcoholic.”  Hope.  Everyone needs some.

 

James 2:17

New International Version (NIV)

¹⁷ In the same way, faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead.

 

Philippians 2:12-13

New International Version (NIV)

¹² Therefore, my dear friends, as you have always obeyed—not only in my presence, but now much more in my absence—continue to work out your salvation with fear and trembling, ¹³ for it is God who works in you to will and to act in order to fulfill his good purpose.

 

 

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Every now and then, someone comes along who changes everything. I was in my late twenties when a woman I’d come to know through my aerobics class then a small Sunday school class came up to me and said with a gentle firmness, “God is calling me to support you in ministry.”

It was the first time…

A) that anybody had ever called whatever on earth I was doing “ministry.”

and,

B) that there was even enough to be done for anyone to actually help me do it, for crying out loud.

Though I’d already come to like her so much and was instantly taken aback by her kindness, I could not have begun to grasp how God had smiled on me that moment. As I look back on it, she would only have been a couple of years older than I am now.

Her name was Mary Helen Davis. Or, to my family and to multiple hundreds of people at Houston’s First Baptist Church, “Mrs. Mary Helen.” I was in my early thirties and teaching my first ungraded class of women when she walked in one Sunday right before class with one of those off-white rectangular cassette recorders with the big thick buttons. I looked at her curiously and she waved her hand as if to dismiss it entirely and said, “I’m just going to set this right here…” (a folding table near my small podium) “…and record some of these lessons. Who knows but that somebody might want one some time. Don’t pay any attention to it. You’ll never know it’s there.”

Within several years as the class grew, she moved a duplicator upstairs in her home and copied tapes all by herself each week for anybody who signed up for one. And…wait for it…laid hands on every single tape. She hand wrote the title of the lesson on each cassette with a Sharpie. Several years after that, her best buddy and our second official volunteer, Julie Weir, began helping her. Because of God’s grace alone, the class kept growing and people kept ordering and a couple of years after that, we started looking for a tiny little office space so our homes were not turned upside down. I wish I had some way of making this next statement appear on this page with all the passion and honesty that I feel as I write it: NO ONE ON THE PLANET has supported, (accidentally) steered, served and loved this ministry more than Mrs. Mary Helen Davis. She even let me try the name “Living Proof” on her. Turned out, she liked it.

Soon after that, that title developed into the name of a non-profit and necessitated a board of directors. And she was on it.

During all this time, she was not just supporting me in ministry. She supported me in mothering. Melissa was one and Amanda was four when Mrs. Mary Helen first came into our lives. Because she was in both my Sunday School class and my aerobics classes, we saw her a minimum of three times a week. My girls do not remember life pre-Mrs. Mary Helen. To give you some idea of how in love they fell with her, there was a period of years when I never – let me say that again a little louder – I NEVER got one single craft that Melissa Moore did in Sunday School. Nope. Mrs. Mary Helen did. Stay with me here. EVEN MY MOTHER’S DAY PRESENT made in kindergarten Sunday School went straight past me and into Mrs. Mary Helen’s hands. We both laughed so hard behind Melissa’s back that we nearly couldn’t stand up. Mrs. Mary Helen was such a fun sport that she’d take them…and I’d let her…and we’d tell it and retell it on Melissa for years to come. (Amanda was too sensitive about people’s feelings to be as forthright about passing me over for Mrs. Mary Helen but I don’t doubt she wanted to. I’m sure it was a sacrifice.) My mother had gone to be with the Lord Jesus when Amanda married and Mrs. Mary Helen sat right beside me on that front row and when, at the first glimpse of that gorgeous bride, I stood to my feet, she stood right beside me. And bawled her head off.

When Melissa was six years-old and in the hospital for a week, you can guess who she requested. Of course, she got both of us. I did not give over that easy. But at least I got to go home and get a change of clothes on occasion. Melissa swore and declared that Mrs. Mary Helen would be one of her bridesmaids and we were all – including Mrs. Mary Helen – scared to death she was serious. We were all relieved when she gave over at the time and let Mrs. Mary Helen simply stand in place as the Bride’s maternal grandmother. Mrs. Mary Helen just didn’t know if she could bring herself to wear one of those strapless bridesmaids’ dresses.

Mrs. Mary Helen adored my children. And my husband. Oh, she’d laugh at him! (And all the harder if I didn’t think he was very funny.) But, to be fair, she didn’t just love our family. She loved everyone she met. She cooked for people, doted on them and showered them with gifts. Case in point: one time my coworker Sabrina talked about often serving her family their dinner on paper plates. Mrs. Mary Helen never judged her. She just bought her a whole set of dishes. Sabrina treasures them like diamonds set in solid gold today. So many of my coworkers can tell similar stories and all of them can boast in God’s kindness to them shown through that one powerful woman who never appeared anywhere except behind the scenes. She moved to Washington State several years ago to live near her daughter, son-in-law and grandchildren – whom she totally adored. We could hardly tear ourselves away from her but her health was declining and she did exactly what she needed to do. Her family got to lap up every possible drop of those last few years. God was all wise. He always is.

Our beloved Mrs. Mary Helen saw Jesus late Wednesday night.

We are so happy for her. And so happy for HIM. He must surely be delighted. And, there is no doubt in my mind that He has the best tape ministry He’s ever had.

But I have cried my eyes out, over and over since her daughter Carol let me know that He’d come for her. She was loving enough to tell me only a couple of minutes later. I am so thankful that she has so graciously allowed me to love her mother alongside her, as my second mother. My girls are heartbroken over her passing, too. Oh, mercy. She was a love. We will grieve to the extent that we loved. We will spend much of next week getting ready for her service. It will be back here in Houston where she raised her family and she will be buried right next to her man.This is the two of them. It was taken I guess about 10 years ago.

 

This is her and her BFF Julie Weir. We were all dressed in jammies for a staff Christmas party.

 

A few of us at another staff Christmas party when we moved from a jammy theme to a headdress theme.

And another. She is holding our Jackson in this picture who appeared that day as Claus.

I am almost positive this was taken at Amanda’s wedding:

This picture is Mrs. Mary Helen, her daughter, Carol, and me on a very important day at Living Proof Ministries: the dedication of the Mary Helen Davis Resource Center.

This will be on the wall of that center as long as God chooses for Living Proof Ministries to exist.

We all hope we’re loved but, for all of us, occasionally we absolutely KNOW we are loved. We don’t know why maybe. But we are. I do not know why God caused this woman to love me.

But she did.

 

And my entire life was changed in those arms.

 

 

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First Installment: Meet My Sister

Second Installment: The Functioning Years

Third Installment: The Maelstrom

From Gay’s heart to yours…

Gregg Taylor, my pastor and sweet, sweet friend, said in a sermon one night at Mercy Street that “the person who has a WHY to live can bear with almost any HOW.”  He was quoting Victor Frankl, author of Man’s Search for Meaning which chronicles Frankl’s experiences as a concentration camp inmate.  It means that if I have a reason, a purpose, something beyond where I am, a sense of what I could become, and I know that tomorrow is going to bring me closer to that then I can work with where I am today.  He went on to say, “If you have no hope, life ends.”

I didn’t stop breathing while I was out there on the street, but in all other respects my life had ended.  I knew that.  I knew that I had caused my family to leave me because I had not been willing or able to stop drinking.  I don’t know now whether I couldn’t stop or I wouldn’t stop (probably some of both), I just know that I didn’t stop. In my mind, I no longer had anything to live for.  My family was gone.  My employability was gone.  My desire to make another stab at recovery was gone.  My self-respect and integrity were gone.  My faith in myself and God were gone.  I had no reason, no purpose, nothing beyond where I was.  I only had another miserable day on the street, in the elements, cold, sick, hungry, filthy, beaten in more ways than one, full of heartache, resentment, jealousy, fear, self-pity, self-loathing and hate.  My only purpose each day was to figure out how I was going to drink myself into unconsciousness so that I couldn’t see or feel the hopelessness that each day brought.  I didn’t want to wake up to another day of hustling, begging, stealing, cheating and doing what I had to do to stay alive, all of which were pitiful and incomprehensible demoralization.  I didn’t believe in God anymore — I knew that the All Mighty, All Powerful, All Merciful God that I had been taught about in Sunday School would not let me, ME, live out there like a wild animal!  I had lost all hope, and with that, I had lost the will to live.  I didn’t care anymore if I lived or died.

Yet somehow, unbeknownst to me, God WAS there.  I was just too covered up with my own “stuff” (heartache, self-pity, hate) and too busy trying to blot out that stuff to see Him. In the process, I had blotted Him out, too.  I did not see that when my body finally screamed out for food that food was there.  I did not see that the people I despised and hated, fought and scratched with, and told them I was BETTER THAN THEM were the very angels that God had sent to protect me.  I did not see that the porch that I slept UNDER (because I would get arrested for trespassing if I slept ON) was His shelter.  I did not see how much worse it could have been had my drug of choice been anything other than alcohol.  I did not see that each day that I woke up breathing was another day closer to the day He would strike … the day I would be ready; when all of the things that had blocked me from following His lead in the past were brought into submission.  The entitlement, the pride, the judgment, the dishonesty, the unwillingness to be obedient to His will for ME, for MY life, had to be surrendered so that I might not only obtain sobriety but also be effective in His world.

Now, let me rest on this for a second before I move on:  I found out later that His will for me was not simply for me to quit drinking.  It was for me to DO THE THINGS that He put before me each and every day, one day at a time, and that HE WOULD EQUIP ME with the tools to quit drinking!  He would EMPOWER ME.

Note: I know these things now.  I did not know them then.  Hindsight is better than foresight but I am hoping that those of you who are listening will not be as hardheaded as me!

Moving on …

After wandering aimlessly IN THE WILDERNESS for 18 months, a series of events that only a God could have brought together led me and my friend, Jerry, from Galveston to Houston.  The street was hard and mean in Houston.  No beach, no everyone-knows-each other-and-watches-each-other’s-backs, no First Presbyterian Church serving breakfast fit for a king on Saturday mornings.  As a matter of fact, all clothing and food supplies had been sent to Galveston to aid those still suffering from Hurricane Ike which had ravaged the island just six months before.  The City is much harder, walking distances much further, people more desperate, dangerous and demanding.  I couldn’t take it.  I couldn’t survive anymore.  It was too hard.  So I just laid down on the concrete underneath the Sabo Road overpass to die.  I didn’t panhandle anymore, I didn’t beg anymore, I didn’t fight anymore.  I laid down to die.

According to Jerry, I didn’t move from there for about two weeks, except to sit up long enough to drink myself back to sleep.  I might have eaten a bite or two.  I maybe even stumbled across the feeder road now and then to use the facilities at Jack In The Box, maybe not.  I don’t know.  I was in a blackout.  I had only one lucid moment during that entire time that I remember well, so well that it feels like yesterday.  It was night and I was alone in the dark.  I was lying on my left side and in my fear, whether of death or of continuing to live, I thought of my children and, at that moment, they became my WHY.  I didn’t care enough about myself to pray for my life but I cared enough about THEM to do just that.  I turned onto my back and hearing the endless roar of the traffic overhead, I spoke out loud to God where He could hear me and I could hear myself.  I spoke very precisely, almost demandingly and with my arm outstretched toward Heaven, I cried, “God, I know that You are up there.  I have been taught that all my life.  Now, I need Your help.  Now!  Because I’m going to die out here, Lord, and there are two little boys in Sugar Land that need a mother.”  Just like that, just exactly like that, and then it was done.  Amen and Amen.

I don’t know how much time passed between that prayer and being gently shaken awake by Tut: an hour, a day, two days.  But alone again in the night in the exact same spot, I felt a nudge and I heard a voice saying, “Gay, get up and get in the truck.  We’re going home.”  I didn’t hesitate.  I didn’t look around to see who I might take with me.  I didn’t look around to see who might stop me.  I didn’t even look around to see who it was.  I simply got up off the concrete and walked to the truck, one foot in front of the other, each step closer and closer, remembering the prayer because it was the ONLY thing I could remember about the weeks prior, knowing with each step that God – that God — that’s all I knew, without a shred of doubt, — that God had heard my cry and had moved Heaven and Earth to save me!  I became acutely aware in those miracle moments of the size and depth of the Love of God for a sinner like me.  As I settled into the warm, soft, leather seat of the white Chevy Suburban that I had ridden in so many times and looked over to confirm that the man was indeed Tut, I was struck with an awe that I can’t possibly describe.  That awe multiplied as we pulled away and I saw the bridge that I had tried to die under get smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror.  It was over.

 

It was OVER.

 

It was OVER.

 

My heart is pounding now as I bang this keyboard and I feel an urgency to cry my eyes out in more gratitude than I know how to express.  In my mumbling and fumbling to find the words to describe those moments, I think of the words to a song by Francesca Battistelli.  It goes like this:

Don’t know how it is You looked at me
And saw the person that I could be.
Awakening my heart
Breaking through the dark
Suddenly Your grace
Like sunlight burning at midnight
Making my life something so beautiful, beautiful.
Mercy reaching to save me
All that I need
You are so beautiful, beautiful.

 

Gregg Taylor, my pastor and my sweet, sweet friend, also says that God never brings an end without offering a new beginning. I didn’t know HOW I was going to begin the climb out of hell.  I just knew that I was going to begin.  I was never the same after that night.
I have come undone.
But I have just begun
Changing by Your grace.
Like sunlight burning at midnight
Making my life something so beautiful, beautiful.
Mercy reaching to save me
All that I need
You are so beautiful, beautiful.

 

Praise Jesus, Love of my life.

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