Notes From A Broken Heart

I proudly declare to whoever will listen, " There's not a prayer you've prayed that God hasn't answered!"    I respond to the quizzical look with, "You may not have recognized the answer because it didn't coincide with what you'd already decided it should be.   Or you just didn't like the answer He sent.  Or it plainly inconvenienced you.  But God answered your prayer!   God has  answered every prayer prayed according to James  4:3,  ' And if you ask (God), you won't receive it because you're asking with corrupt motives' (4;3, tPt).  Sometimes, I have to conduct a Q&A that sounds like this: "Why am I so sure? Because He answers me each and every time I've asked.  Plus, He is no respecter of persons, that how. I used to be a skeptic---until I couldn't be! God was batting 1,000 and I got tired of swinging and missing.  I started paying attention to how often (always) He answered" (And yes, I've often been

It took a while (years?), before I realized God had been answering my request  to teach me.  At the time, my awareness of the chasm between what I knew and what I needed to know kept widening. In desperation, I cried out, "God, help me! Teach me!"  Thankfully, since I didn't know what I didn't know   I couldn't specify pockets of ignorance, so my request lay open-ended.  Long before seminal Scriptures "opened my eyes so I could see to follow Thee," He was teaching me.  His instruction produced peace that "passed all understanding, guarded my heart," and calmed the roiling in my soul. I had asked God for knowledge and loving and generous Father He is, He added wisdom.  Initially, had I seriously   believed He would answer? Actually, I didn't know what I thought.  Too, like so many of my requests, had I just forgotten about it?  At any rate, I probably assumed the request had landed in a "Yes, no, or maybe" file drawer.  "Unbek

  I'm not sure I've ever told you that I majored in the "Teaching of Secondary English" as an undergraduate coed and proudly answered "teacher" in the occupation block on applications.  I spent one-half the years of my work life in the profession and loved every minute of them! In fact,  I taught and learned from middle school-exploring daredevils, to graduate student seekers of advanced knowledge, specialization, or cognition. My apprenticeship in teaching prepared me for the more ( way more ) challenging work as a manager in the private and public sectors.  This  brings me to the assignment I'm hoping you'll accept.     I preface it with a song learned in Sunday School. "Count your blessings---name them one by one Count your blessings---see what God has done; Count your blessings---name them one by one, Count your many blessings---see what God has done." The assignment has two parts.  Part One focuses on counting.  Don't be concerned

"Hush, hush, somebody's callin' my  name Hush, hush, somebody's callin' my name Hush, hush, somebody's callin' my name Oh my Lord, oh my Lord, what shall I do."   Whenever trouble reared its perpetually predictable head, Mother would counsel, "Call on the Man you serve!" Of course, family members understood that Name was Jesus.  Mother, however, spoke of the "Prince of the air," the infamous insurrectionist, who challenged God and lost.  For the most part,  Mother's world was one of contrasts: either good or bad; right or wrong; up or down; honest or dishonest, and the like.   I don't believe Mother had ever been introduced to "forced choice," the technique a teacher, supervisor, or manager frequently used.   She intuitively recognized that if left questioning, the choices novices grappled with became increasingly difficult. This kind of paralysis by analysis could take chunks out of one's day, month, or year. 

(Grand) Mama's scathing pronouncement---"Girl, you must be stuck on stupid---crushed the soul of her target (more often than not, me).  With little room for debate, I could only respond with a "Yes,  Ma'am."  I certainly couldn't respond with a " No way!"  I'd be challenging, not just  any adult , but the revered, best chicken salad maker in the whole wide world.  Of course, I silently disagreed with Mama's conclusion, I just knew to keep it to myself.  No matter how much I gritted my teeth.  Mama never "cussed," or used the Lord's name in vain, although just about everything else was fair game.  A certifiably accomplished cook, she paid as much attention to her Sunday-go-to-meeting dresses, suits, hats, high heels, and gloves as the most fastidious of women.  Mama's only weakness? She loved being married and probably set the record in her circle by surviving five or six husbands.  I lost count and interest after Mister Num