Category: Wanda

Memories, Wanda

Hard Words

A. Knight

Some things will be repeated—simply because I wrote them just after experiencing them.

On that Sunday morning, February 10, 2008, as we were on the road to Gainesville, the team of doctors had gathered in Wanda’s room to discuss what was happening in her body.

Her kidneys were shutting down. They were suggesting dialysis. Her breathing was labored. Getting more difficult as the hours passed due to the accumulation of fluid around her heart/lungs. Her heart was enlarging. Had been for quite sometime.

As they began to lay out the facts to Mark and Wanda, they asked her what she wanted to do. They told her that they could put her on the ventilator and it would do the breathing for her and the dialysis would act for her failing kidneys. She lay and thought about all they said. Then firmly, but quietly, she said, “no, I don’t want that.”

She chose to keep her faith in the Lord. She knew what would happen if they put her on the machines. She already knew that she would never come off of the life manipulating machines. And, for her to be on the ventilator, she would have to be kept in an unconscious state.

She made the decision to trust the Lord. As she had for the past almost 44 years of her life. She firmly believed, as we all did, that God could restore her to full life. He had brought her out before…from the very door of death just 4 years previously.

On Saturday night prior to this particular Sunday, as I lay on the floor, prostrate before the Lord in my little study room, I had called out to the Father who had heard and answered….but I didn’t know what to pray. I begged for words. I cried for words. All I could do is cry that it was too hard! That we wanted her healed…but was asking for His divine will. As I continued to cry to the Lord, not having the words, the Holy Spirit came in and interceded for me. Mother had told me that a similar thing happened with her days earlier.

As we left home that morning, she leaving her husband in the pulpit, to preach a message that he couldn’t grip—because his heart was with his wife…who was hurting with the pain of the possibility of losing her sister…and my sweet man drove us down there. We had gotten on the other side of Tallahassee, Florida when Mark called. With tears of pain in his voice, “come now”. “We are on our way” was our reply. We were all choked up with the realization of what the next hours may bring and made several phone calls. All the while calling on the mighty name of Abba Father.

While we were driving down, some very hard words were spoken—hard words heard—reality realized.

As the group of doctors explained things to Wanda and Mark, mother and Grandbuddy walked quietly into the room. Having just come from the motel, they had no idea the things that happened during the long night. Struggled breathing. Knowing, yet not wanting to know.

Mother and Grandbuddy stood by the bedside as Wanda looked up into the faces of the doctors and then Mark. With a quiet question, but firmly spoken, she asked, “am I dying?” Even now, as I typed these words….knowing her soft spoken voice so well, I can hear it reverberating in my ears. The doctors quiet response was simply, without the ventilator and dialysis, yes.

As the tears pooled and poured from every eye in the room it was finally understood. Wanda would soon meet, face to face, the awesome Creator. But unfortunately, when we think of someone who loves God dearly, finally getting to meet Him, we think only of our loss. Not of their gain. I thought that way. Couldn’t really help it. This conversation we didn’t know as we were driving. It was a good thing.

We arrived to find an extremely weakened sister. She didn’t have much strength to speak, but as we each leaned over her to kiss her, she told us all she loved us. As we did her. I don’t handle things like this very well. I stepped out of the room so that no one would see me start squalling like a baby. I DID NOT want to give up my sister. Not my prayer partner! This could not be happening! Not to us. We had always loved and followed the Lord! Or, at least Wanda had. I had my days of rebellion, but Wanda had been the most faithful servant of God that I had ever known.

Nevertheless, we trusted. We believed. I had followed the Lord for many years, had times of extreme testing in my marriage and child rearing…but the Lord had never failed me…and I knew He would be right here, holding my hand and heart. I had never lost someone that I loved as we did/do Wanda. I didn’t know the specifics on how you are supposed to react. I didn’t have instructions, or a map for this one.

….Photobucket

Memories, Wanda

"Come Now"

A. Knight


“…Come; for all things are now ready.” Luke 14:17

Those are the words that the Bride of Christ will one day hear. And we so long to hear them. However, they were not the choice words of that day.

When Mark’s call came, we knew immediately what would be soon taking place.

As Aimee urged Jeff to drive faster (he was already driving fast enough) she told him she’d pay his ticket. (What about the increase in insurance Aimee?) We were thinking like sisters. Not like responsible drivers. Yes, it’s a good thing Jeff was there. For many reasons. He’s my help-mate. He gives my heart peace when my world around me is crashing down.

But there are some things he can’t do. He couldn’t do what I wanted him to do.

When we arrived, wait, let me preface this with—-“I don’t do well in hospitals”. At all. No joking. Never have. Okay. Said that–maybe you’ll understand the rest.

When we got up on the 5th floor, Wanda’s room was now located just outside the nurses desk. We found it quickly and we all went inside. I was not prepared for what I saw. I have told you before—my face tells too much some times. I just really hope that on that day, God somehow hid my reaction.

I leaned over Wanda, kissed her cheek, told her how much I loved her, and then with tears in my eyes, went to hunt my purse. (Sounds crazy I know.)

Years ago—actually, in the early months of 1985, my maternal grandmother was very ill and in the hospital. I was over 8 months pregnant with April and having just been to my doctor to have my blood checked and walked over to the hospital where “Mamo” was. Ya’ll…I told you I do not do well—-when I saw Mamo, I almost fainted. I became very light headed, nauseated, and things started going blurry. I sat down quickly and put my head down—as far as a pregnant woman can. (Not very far.) After a drink —and some “not looking” at Mamo—I was able to pull my mind together and get up, hug her and then leave. Quickly.

Fortunately, this time I didn’t quite do the fainting thing. But—I became very anxious in my mind and heart. I picked up my small Bible from my purse—I needed to hold onto something that represented GOD—and that was it. Then I went to find Jeff.

I knew right then and there—I was NOT going to leave this hospital no matter what until God did something. One way or another. I was there. Period. So, I “thought” that Jeff might not want to “sit around” all day—he might want to get a hotel room—or go eat—or something. I didn’t want him bored—I wanted him comfortable. That’s what I was thinking anyway. He wasn’t thinking anywhere near that ball park. (I didn’t mention that cool headed Jeff does well in almost every single circumstance. In our families, he’s the one called on if someone has an emergency. Any emergency.)

He was standing just outside the door and I came up to him and said, “do you want to go to the motel and rest? Do you want to go eat? Do you want to go to the waiting room?” See? So many questions—because my mind was in a race.

He didn’t quite see my point—and with a little bit of a tone (girls you know when they have that tone)—he said, “Well Angie, what do you want me to do?”

That was it. My undoing. Right then and there—my thoughts were—“I WANT YOU TO HEAL MY SISTER THAT’S WHAT! BUT YOU CAN’T!”

Sorry for yelling like that—but my MIND yelled it. I just never said it. I was desperately wanting her healed…and it just wasn’t happening.


Coming up: “Hard Words”; “While We Are Waiting”; “Going Home and Going home”; “The Choosing of the Purple”; “Keep Coloring”; “The Hope We Have”.

Childhood Memories, Memories, Wanda

The Second Stay

A. Knight

It happened quickly. One day she was home and I could talk to her several times a day, and the next day…she was back in the hospital. No conversing. No energy to do so. We kept up-to-date by texting with Mark. I remember calling my friend’s good friend at Alltel and telling her I needed text messaging added to our plan — and almost said “STAT”. Now. That’s what I meant. Don’t dawdle. I need to know how and what is going on and I need freedom to do so. Ann called me back quickly, got my plan adjusted and away I went. Texting my love over a few hundred miles. Texting prayers up to heaven. Texting news back and forth with Aimee. Just in case. Mark was good though—he would usually text us both at the same time.

The second stay didn’t last as long as the first. Started out on a Wednesday (I think) and ended on Tuesday of the following week. There was no Olive Garden Cuisine involved this time. She couldn’t swallow much—very little in fact—only small amounts. The fluid had been building at such a rate that her throat seemed squeezed by the pressure.

Pressure. We all felt some sort of pressure from various places in our lives. I was back at work—it was a busy time for us. I felt pressured in my own mind to not take off any more time than was necessary. It put an unspoken strain on others—no one ever spoke it—they were very kind—but I didn’t want to take advantage of their goodness. They were very good about me being off–as were Aimee’s employer. Although we wanted so bad to be with Wanda— we knew there was nothing we could do. Mark was there–helping her with every need that came up. Praying over her, loving her, caring for her intently.

So we stayed. Our intentions were to go back on Friday night. But Mother and Grandbuddy were going down to the hospital on Thursday, and Aimee and Juno couldn’t go yet. (Juno’s birthday was on Saturday and Aimee needed to be with him.) But her heart also wanted to be with Wanda. Her nurse’s eyes needed to “see for herself”. I decided to wait with Aimee. That is, to wait until she could go. I knew that if I went —she would just feel worse for not going. So we both waited.

I am not a good waiter. My mind needs to be occupied with other things—in order to wait without driving Jeff or anyone else insane! So—I told Jeff on that sunny Saturday—“I want to paint the bedroom.”

“Huh?” Jeff was not really surprised—because he knows me so well—but then again—he knew this task would wind up involving him—no matter how much I said “I will do it all myself—you don’t have to help.” (Yeah right.)

I told you….got to have my mind occupied. Works even better if you get the body motivated. Work. Something that gives you a big prize at the end. We trekked off to Lowe’s and I bought my paint. Green. Soothing. Peaceful. Serene. Like a windswept field on a late summer day.

The furniture was moved (pushed–pulled–coerced) to another room, except for the large chest of drawers and dresser. The paint pours smoothly into the pan. As I push the roller into the green, I am sending up prayers. I don’t remember all the prayers, but I know I prayed constantly. Listening to praise and worship music as I worked, I praised HIM for creating our lives, for making us a family. For giving us the greatest gift of all. Salvation. And yes, I cried some too—but I tried to hold in as much as I could. I knew that Jeff was aggravated with me just a teeny bit for the painting thing. I didn’t want him being more aggravated by all the green watered down with tears. When we are upset—the way we handle things is some “alone time” —solitude. (May sound odd—but that’s the way it is—we just sort of let the other have space and peace—he NEEDED his space just as I did—but my crazy job of the painting the room—messed up our normal routine of handling a crisis!)

All the while I am texting back and forth with Aimee and Mark. Must stay informed. I knew I would drop the paint brush in a heartbeat and hurry off. The green went up on the walls—and the walls were as tense in my heart as they have ever been.


The moving back of the furniture and making of the bed was a blur. What happened next that stuck in my mind —happened in the prayer room. Well—it’s what I call the prayer room.

Just a small room, with the “granddaddy chair”, a mulitcolored striped rug—my “rug of many colors”—as in Joseph’s coat, and a table and bookcases. Simple room. No fuss—no frills. But God called me to that room that night.

After I had laid down—to try and sleep—I received an alarming text message. Very little output. She had gained 4 lbs. of fluid during the past day or so. I got up, trying not to disturb Jeff, and went to the prayer room.

I started out kneeling by the chair. I had hardly gotten any words out and I felt compelled to get on my face. To the floor I went. Laid out prostrate before God. Crying out to Him with all my pain, heartache of what I feared most. Losing my sister. I gave all my fears up to Him. After I had prayed it all out in what I could understand….the Holy Spirit came in with such a peaceful calm and as I wept before God—I began to pray in a language that I didn’t understand. But God knew.

I can’t explain how or what exactly happened, all I know is when I got up, I felt that I was not carrying the burden any longer. I had given my heartache and fear over to God. It was His. She was His. Always had been. He would soon take her home. I think even then, I knew that.

I lay down and slept. For a while.

At 4:00 a.m. I awoke with a sudden urgency to “go”. I checked my phone. No new text messages. I texted Mark. I knew he was awake. He didn’t sleep much at all. He texted me back her stats. Not good. No progress.

I dozed fitfully, praying in my heart and mind for what I didn’t see. Didn’t want to see. I waited until around 6:30 and then I texted Aimee. “Are you up?” She was awake. We got on the phone to hear the comfort that we needed from one another. I told Aimee what I felt. We needed to go. She felt the same. Her nurses instincts were telling her things I didn’t know. She knew. I didn’t.

We discussed it with our husbands. Her preacher husband had a message to deliver to the people. My dear “painting” husband had a job to do. Drive his wife to her sister. Aimee and I had already decided we were going with or without a driver. I was very ready to drive. Fortunately, I didn’t have to.

As we were just getting to Tallahassee, the call came that we did not want to hear. “Come now.” With tears in Mark’s voice, I knew what he meant.

Picture taken at OakHill Country Cottage Bed & Breakfast Sisters Retreat 2007 and the second picture is the “green”–with the quilt my friend Vivienne made me for Christmas 2008.

Childhood Memories, Wanda

Believing God

A. Knight

The water looks warm…but on a day like today, in the first month of the year, I know it is cold. AND as quick as you stick your big toe in you will know the cold as well!

There are some things we know because we know. There are other things we have faith and believe without ever seeing or knowing.

What is faith? It is the confident assurance that what we hope for is going to happen. It is the evidence of things we cannot yet see. Hebrews 11:1 NLT

Wanda had that kind of faith. She prayed to be healed. Believed with all her heart He could heal. Had witnessed other healings. Yet never once did I ever hear her complain nor whine that He had healed someone other than herself. Other’s healing simply gave her more hope of what He could do for her. However, just because she didn’t seem to question God did not mean that I didn’t. For I tell you straight up I did. I wondered. I wanted to know why someone with the kindest most gentle heart and ways was stricken with such a condition that she could not even make up her own bed without having to rest. The simple task of clearing a table and cleaning the kitchen simply took her breath away. Not in the good way. Not in the way a tender look from the man you love. Not in the way a tub filled with hot bubbly water after a horribly long day at the office.

During the first stay in the hospital for Wanda, it seemed to go on and on. I was impatient. I had plans. Wanda and I were going to begin the new Beth Moore Bible Study with our ladies at church, “Steppin’ Up.” Together. Side by side. Just as we had for the last 3 years. I refused to see the reality of what was happening. I cried when I wasn’t there at the hospital–almost constantly. When I drove to work, when I went home. Every time I was alone—I let it all out to God. He knew without doubt where I stood on the situation.

We drove the 3 1/2 hour trip to the hospital both Fridays. Stayed as long as possible through the weekend. On the second trip down, Mark had to leave to take care of some home and work issues. Aimee, Jeff and I stayed with Wanda. Actually, we sent Jeff back to the motel and we had a mini-sisters-retreat! It was not the kind we would have loved to have, but it would do in a pinch. We prayed. I read aloud to them. Aimee buffed Wanda’s nails and put lotion on her hands and feet, we watched old “good” TV shows and we watched Wanda breathe. That was the tough part. It was hard to watch her struggle. The fluid was not coming off as they wanted. In the building of the fluid, it was impacting her lungs. Squeezing. But we didn’t talk about it. Instead we talked about the Bible Study. Or certain Scriptures. Or cooking.

I remember asking Wanda what her favorite verse was. It was Psalm 27:14. But she couldn’t remember the words exactly. Nor where it was found exactly. So we began a big search. When we couldn’t find it…we called the “preacher”. Aimee’s husband. Actually, Mark is a minister too, but we knew he was busy…(Juno was as well…but it was easier). When we found it, Aimee wrote it on the dry erase board that the nurses used to keep up with Wanda’s intake and output.

All that came and went KNEW where Wanda’s faith was stored. In her heart. In her mind. In her spirit. AND sisters—it was strong.

On the Saturday evening, we were trying to decide what we wanted to do for supper. There were plenty of restaurants in Gainesville, and we were “thinking” of Olive Garden. We had asked Wanda—“what do you feel like you would enjoy eating?” Not a hard question for her—she loved Olive Garden! So we got an order together, and called it in. I still have the paper that Aimee used from one of my notebooks where she, as a very sweet and pretty waitress took our orders! Then Jeff was sent off to grab our grub!

Wanda waited in anticipation. She had not had anything “good” to eat for days. She had lost a bit of fluid and Aimee order her items with no salt. Even the garlic bread was ordered plain. No butter, no salt. When the meal arrived, we all enjoyed it immensely! Then settled back to watch Fly Wheel on the little DVD player that Mark had left.

When Mark arrived and we told him what we had been doing and how well Wanda had done with her intake-output, he seemed skeptical at first. I don’t know that I have ever seen anyone–much less a man—with as much love and concern over every detail of care for another human being. I don’t know for sure if he would have gone the route of Olive Garden food—but she enjoyed it so much–that smile and pleasure was memorable to watch!

The test came the next day. How would the food affect her….but you know…I think ‘ole Mark was surprised. She did very well.

With each battle of fluid gain and strength loss, we prayed hard. Adjustments were made in her medication—and little baby step progress would show up. She wound up having to receive blood. Right now, I can’t remember how many units for the first stay, I think maybe 2, but possibly it was 3. On those times, which lasted for several hours, we prayed constantly. There were so many risks involved.

Then the Friday came that Aimee and I were going alone to stay with her so that Mark could come home to take care of a major event at work. Aimee and I both took off early from work so that we would arrive in Gainesville before dark. Neither one of us relished the idea of driving at night. We were all packed up. With of course, way too much stuff. If you know Aimee at all, you know she had packed way more shoes than she would wear. If you know me at all, you know I packed enough books that I’d never read them if I had a month to do so!

We had just gotten the last item loaded, were headed to the store for gas and “coffee”—(for the drive) and we got a call. “We’re coming home!”….We….best word I had heard all day! In several weeks!

So…instead of heading to Gainesville, Aimee and I headed straight for Wanda’s house to take down the Christmas, cook them supper and generally clean up a bit! I just have to mention this before I let you go…as we put things away, cleared the table of mail, I couldn’t help but notice how, even in the jumble of things, there was still that orderly fashion of the way Wanda was. All kitchen cabinets were organized. The drawers too! Mine is not nearly so orderly!

When I heard the door bell ring, I thought it must be Charlie to check on the oxygen tank. It was. We hugged. We talked. He checked the machines. We told him the approximate time she would be home from the hospital. When he left we returned to our duties. Aimee had the chicken and rice well underway. I had taken care of the stacks of mail. The Christmas cards and little toys from a busy little girl. Ding-Dong. The news was probably getting out—she was coming home! I opened the door and there stood the most beautiful smile I have ever seen. All in the not quite 5 foot frame of our dear Wanda. That look is one I won’t forget. Ever.

We ushered her in and got her situated so she could watch Aimee in the kitchen and be involved in her household again.

Posted by Picasa
Childhood Memories, Wanda

Little Girl Dreams

A. Knight

If you have any familiarity with trees at all…you recognize this shedding trunk.

If you have any imagination at all, you will see that the frail, even crispy slices of this tree resembles the fragile dollar bill. Yes. You heard me right.

Actually for two little girls, who had never even held a dollar bill, these pieces of crepe myrtle tree trunk fit the bill for us playing “store keepers”, selling watermelons by the road side at our grandmother’s house in the summer. To be more precise, it was “Mamo’s house”.

The road was the very old fashioned kind. Simple sand and clay mixture. Just plain dirt. As we stood in the shade of the crepe myrtle tree, the idea of using the curling, pieces of tree bark as paper money seemed ideal to the two little girls under the age of 6.

Very few cars passed by, but that really didn’t matter. Wanda and I had fun just playing in the yard.

Outside, near the kitchen window, Mamo had a very primitive old wooden bench. The bench was quickly transformed everytime we came to visit into a cook top for Wanda and me. We cooked in a tin can with water, everything from flower petals to fresh grass clippings, adding a little dirt as a substitute for salt and pepper for taste. No, we did not “really” taste it…we just imagined it. Drawing imaginary houses in the dirt with a stick, we imagined that our houses were large and that we lived close to one another.

As adults, only parts of the childhood dreams came true. While our houses were not large, we finally were able to live near one another. For over 3 years, ending this past February, I enjoyed the ability to be at her house within 5 minutes if needed. But the talking on the phone was a constant. Everyday at work and every almost afternoon while going home. Wanda called both me and Aimee. It’s sweet and funny how our conversations always wound up to one big question. Almost every single day. “What are you cooking for supper?”

Sharing recipes and ideas for organizing was a constant topic of conversation between us girls. It was these sweet memories that traipsed around in our heads and hearts as the days went by.

At Christmas in 2007, which in my mind seems like just a few weeks ago, Wanda’s coloring was not good and her breathing was labored. I looked at her when they came into our house for our Christmas Eve Family Supper, and without the medcial training my sister, Aimee has, I knew there was something very wrong. Wanda had oxygen at home to assist her, even had a portable tank, but she didn’t want to be treated as if she was having problems. She wanted to be normal. And be treated normal. No extra attention. An oxygen tank would cause others to treat her “special”. Wanda didn’t want that.

After supper we had prayer and sharing, as is our tradition. We prayed long for Wanda. Mother stood before us and described the feelings and prayers that the LORD had woke her with in the wee hours of several mornings in the past few days. “Family, you will need to be on your knees more than you ever have before, if you intend to make it in these last days. We will face things harder than we’ve ever faced. It will take prayer. But family, the LORD reminded me to anchor to HIM—the Anchor holds.”…those words rang over and over in my heart and mind for many days. Still they do almost weekly. The Anchor holds.

I soon realized the truth in her words. About the Anchor. We all did.

To be continued…

P.S. I am trying to keep them short enough to read quickly. I figured if they were too long….you’d be late for work! (Like me!)

Thank you Brenda—your encouragement helps me more than you will ever know. I am just a plain old country girl—but God is teaching me MANY things as I journey with Him…holding tightly to His hand.

Posted by Picasa
Reflection, Wanda

Sisters Retreat 2007

A. Knight

Standing by the window, high up on the fifth floor of the hospital in Central Florida, looking out at a day that was sunny and bright. Behind me though, coming in fast, were dark clouds of life. I could sense them in my spirit. They were threatening. The driving force was death. But our driving force was Life. And faith.

Just behind me lay Wanda, with mother by her side and Aimee seated in a chair at the foot of the bed. We were listening to praise music from a CD I had made especially for Wanda with some of her favorite songs. Songs we had sung, learned, and worshipped our Lord at our last Sister’s Retreat.

“We have come to worship the Lord, we have come to worship the Lord, bow down before Him, love and adore Him, we have come to worship the Lord.”

Although, the words were not exactly true, in the sense that the reason we were at the hospital, was to worship the Lord; however, they were true in the fact that we have learned to worship Him in all circumstances. This was not an easy circumstance in which we found ourselves. Nevertheless, we worshipped. Turning the small hospital room into a veritable temple of God.

As our tears flowed, and my mother’s hands rose toward heaven, I knew without a doubt that God’s heart was touched. It was this picture of faith and worship, that Mark brought Victoria in to love on her mommy. She was such a brave girl. Even at the young age of “almost” five, she knew there was something seriously wrong with mommy. Yet, she put on a brave face and smiled as she leaned down with daddy’s strong arms holding her tight she kissed mommy’s cheek.

Wanda felt that kiss and her tired face smiled up at her sweet girl. I know her heart ached. Even more than ours did. She knew in her heart she would soon be leaving the care and raising of this little child to other hands and hearts. It would not be her hands that tucked her in at night, nor her ears that heard her prayers. But she had an incredible faith in God and complete trust in Him to see the job done.

More to come…

Be sure and click on the collage for enlarging the photos!

Posted by Picasa
Borrowed Blessings, faith, Family, Wanda

Preparing for February

A. Knight

In the coming days and weeks, I may disappear for a day or two. Don’t be alarmed. I am preparing for February. I’m not setting myself up for more grieving, rather for being thankful for all that God has shown me through the past year. Actually, for the past several years.

Our life journey took a rather sharp curve last February. The vehicle of our lives tipped and is still righting itself. But God still drives. Last January, I shared a bit about the difficulty my sister, Wanda, was having before she left this life for her eternal life in heaven on February 12.

I posted a bit more during our struggle with what was going on…and many of you prayed for us and with us during those hard days of life. We learned that “praising Him in the storm” was indeed, the hardest walk of our faith yet. But praise Him is what we did. For we trusted in Him alone. Wanda had already outlived all the expectations by all of her doctors by about 24 years! What faith she had!

Then during that time, Aimee and I started the Sisters of Faith site. We were blessed this past year by several sweet sisters in Christ that joined us in an incredible Bible Study called, 90 Days with Jesus the One and Only! I have felt the sweetness of the Holy Spirit in my own life and seen what He can do when I give Him full access and total control. Too often I try and control things…but I am learning…

For the past few weeks, my heart and mind has traveled back to last year. I don’t want you to feel obligated to click on each link and read it, but if you are new to my blog, then you might want to know a bit more about this journey of Trust that we have walked. Wanda had an extreme trust in God. Incredible faith. Strong heart.

So, sisters, if I can impose upon you to endure a few entries about our last few days with Wanda, and then the days that followed her home going, I will share with each of you what inspires me to keep on going —sharing—telling—writing. For HIM.

We begin tomorrow.

faith, Wanda

A Letter From Heaven

A. Knight

Dearest Sisters,

I love what you’re doing for the Lord! It is so exciting to see and hear the good reports being broadcast throughout heaven of the lives being touched and hearts changing—eyes looking to Christ! As it is written in the Most Holy Word, “Therefore since we also have such a large cloud of witnesses surrounding us, let us lay aside every weight and the sin that so easily ensnares us, and run with endurance the race that lies before us, keeping our eyes on Jesus, the source and perfector of our faith, who for the joy that lay before Him endured a cross and despised the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of God’s throne.”

Paul’s words are so fitting for what I need to share—however, I will change the word “brothers” to “sisters”—for dear ones, that is what you are!
“When I came to you, sisters, announcing the testimony of God to you, I did not come with brilliance of speech or wisdom. For I determined to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and Him crucified. And I was with you in weakness, in fear, and in much trembling. My speech and my proclamation were not with persuasive words of wisdom, but with a demonstration of the Spirit and power, so that your faith might not be based on men’s wisdom, but on God’s power.” (1 Corinthians 2:1-5 Holman CSB) I can say with all assurance for your sometimes weary hearts, “No eye has seen, no ear heard and you could not imagine—try as you might—the glories awaiting your souls—what God has prepared for those who truly love Him!” (paraphrased 1 Corinthians 2:9) I think, after having met that dear brother Paul, who penned those words to the Church at Corinth, he truly meant an exclamation point to end that sentence! He is full of the brightest joy you can imagine!
If I could share with you my heart from this side today, it would be, keep on. Go further. Tell more. Love deeper. Live everyday as if you’d not have another. Take delight in the simple things. See God in everything. Let go of the burdens you are trying to carry alone. He really is there to lift you up! Most of all, never quit—don’t look back. Only ahead at what lies before you! The journey is so worth the destination!—no matter how rocky at times.
It’s almost time! We are anticipating the trumpet sound as you are! For when that sound is heard—we will be joined again! And joined as the spotless Bride of Christ! I love you all!
Keeping the faith!
Wanda
Now, before anyone thinks I’ve lost my marbles, —I do know that this didn’t come from Wanda—but if she could share with us today…maybe this is what she would encourage us to do. Don’t you think?
In my cleaning out and going through books, I found one of her note cards that I had bought her several years ago. Only one card left. It is blank. The message was clear to me. No words could express fully the joy, the prize, the splendor she has experienced so far! I am glad for her…although there are days my heart aches to see her. I know one day soon we will!
After the funeral service, I became violently ill at the graveside. Jeff got me to the bathroom at the backside of the church just in time. No necks were hugged, no further condolences accepted, I needed bed rest. I think it was a virus, Jeff thought it was stress and strain. Nevertheless, it was sickness that laid me out.
Back at mother’s house, in her clean pajamas and shivering with a chill in her bed, the movie of the week began to replay over in my mind. Slow motion. As I lay there and wept, words came to me, almost of their own volition. I tried to call out to Aimee to bring me a pencil and paper so that I might take them down to remember, but my voice was weak from being sick and the bustle of the house by that time, too loud to be heard. I silently prayed that the Lord would help me remember the words that seemed to fly to my heart from an unknown Land. I posted them along with the poem that Aimee had written about Wanda’s life in February of 2o08. I share them again now.

Family, don’t cry for me now.
For the place I am saving,
Is for the way you are each paving,
That others should know Him.
As we were all taught.

So love one another,
Clinging only to Him,
Know that I’m whole now,
And happy with Him.

For you all I’ll be waiting,
Just a hop skip and jump,
Soon you’ll all join me,
Why, you’re over the hump!

Remember it takes dedication,
Determined heart too,
The way won’t be easy,
But this I know you can do.

For you’ll be led by the Master,
His hand you hold tight,
And remember to love Him
With all of your might.

Talk to you later!

Love, Wanda
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sisters of faith—readers so faithful, keep on keeping on! It is a true honor and joy to know and share life and faith with each of you! Every single one of you blessed mine and Aimee’s life immeasurably by your participation to the Bible Study!
We love you all!
Keeping the Faith,
Angie

Wanda

The CAR

A. Knight

I forgot to tell you all where I’d be today!

Here! At the Cafe`

I smile even now as I remember her face as I opened the door and the new red car shone like a bright polished apple behind her. You could have lit an entire city from the brilliance of her eyes and smile! I looked in amazement. “Who’s car Wanda?”

“It’s mine!” came the thrilled reply.

I really hope that my amazement…and confusion didn’t register on my face. I have the unfortunate disease called “talking face syndrome”. My face usually tells it like it is, whether my mouth does or not. So when she said that, my mind instantly thought, “But you don’t have a driver’s license.”

However, the mouth said “Wow! It is beautiful!”

To read the REST of the story….go click on the button!

An Angie Story, Borrowed Blessings, Country Life Messages, faith, Thankful Thursdays, Wanda

A Day Hemmed in Prayer is Less Likely to….

A. Knight

Unravel. Ever have one of those days? Where they seem to unravel before your very eyes? I have had several. Lately. All at once.

Where do I run?

To the Master Tailor. He stands at the ready with needle in hand. Ready to put things back in order for me.

All I have to do is “stand still”…..and see the salvation of the Lord. Hemmed in by the Master. Best place to be in my opinion.

What you see here on this page was a wonderful discovery. Two Wednesday nights ago, I came home deeply burdened for a family problem. Wasn’t mine. But it hurt as if it were. As I was preparing for a small Bible Study session of just two, I began to talk to the Lord.

He heard. He listened. He answered in the most unique way. I told Him this: “Lord, Wanda would love to be here to pray with us over this. This is exactly what she loved to do. Pray for the needs of others.” And I began to cry just a bit. As I do fairly often. As I loaded the dishwasher, the prayer and thoughts were still on my mind. And all of a sudden I had an urgency to go to the little study room where I had unloaded the things from Wanda’s “sewing room” the week before. I had not looked at “everything” yet.

As a matter of fact, the thread boxes were the last thing to look into. I had plundered the cross stitch pages and packets. I had touched all the hoops, felt of all the fabrics, but had left the thread box. Why? Well, it was a clear box…and clearly full of thread. Why open it? Why indeed.

When the urgency to “do something” comes over me, I generally obey. So I left my dishes as they were, dishwasher still open and walked to the room and grabbed the box. I just looked at it.

Pretty colors all neatly lined up like jewelry ready to wear.

Then I noticed in one corner of the box what looked like several folded pieces of paper. I opened the box for closer examination. When I unfolded them and began to read, I began to weep. I said, “Lord, this is exactly what Wanda would say.” Every single verse was about prayer. She was using them to “hide in her heart” as she stitched. She was hemming her day in. She was closing the gap in all of our lives. The seam was strong. The Threads unbreakable, because she used the Thread of the Holy Spirit in her life.

When my visitor arrived, I fixed a cup of tea for each of us and we settled in to pray, share and read some Word. After she spilled her heart, I began to unfold the neatly clipped papers and spread them out on the table. As I read each one, she began to see the “thread of hope”. The thread of consistency. The lifeline of salvation available to each of us….through prayer.

Girls, this is not my usual thankful post. But I just have to share what I am most thankful for. Although I love each one of you, I am thankful most of all for Jesus. For Salvation. For the grace and mercy extended to this wretched sinner. For the prayers of many when I was far from God. For the ability to pray even now for unsaved prodigal children. For your prodigals as well as mine. I am thankful that when I hem my day —-with prayer—it does not unravel. It holds strong. After all, I have just sat before the Master Tailor.

Visit Iris for more thankful posts ~by the way, there is a winner for the give-away~
And the winner is~oh, how I wish I could have bought you each one…..but there is just one number chosen by that random number picker thingy~
Congratulations TwinkleMom!

Posted by Picasa