Hope for the Hopeless

Tired, always tired, and gaunt, you wouldn’t look in the mirror if it was thrust in your face because you knew what you’d see and it isn’t a pretty sight.

Faded, unwashed hair straggling around your face is the least of your concerns, but the eyes…Oh those eyes, the dark look of hopelessness looming there is what makes others look away, it is so, so…what it is? Only you can say for sure: lonely? Despairing? Filled with a lifetime of pain, heartache, and grief?

You are plodding down a crowded street, shoved or avoided by the hurrying throng that you hardly notice, but you need a fix: that is your consuming desire, a fix, a fix, but that is exactly what you wanted to avoid at all costs.

 For ten, fifteen, maybe even twenty years or more your life has been a mess of addiction, prostitution and other details known only know to you but where oh where can you get your next very fleeting thrill from a pill, a bottle or a needle?

Natalie, yes, that’s a real person, was facing the same desperate situation once.  After serving time in jail, you can imagine what for, she had nowhere to turn, no place to live but, maybe with her sister.

She had been wandering, drifting for so many years that she absolutely loathed it. After reaching the empty apartment Natalie wandered out to the balcony and thought of ending her life by jumping down, but it wasn’t far enough. Across the normally teeming street was a new building going up with scaffolding high in the air. That’s where she was headed: that would be a good place to leap from.

 For some reason there was no one around which was very unusual, as she crossed the street, however, a small black man came out of the shadows and handed her a handwritten letter while saying: ‘Jesus loves you’. She paused to read it and one thing lead to another until she found out about Heart Seasons.

If you live in New York City maybe you have heard about them.

Natalie found a group of people with as bad a history as hers. She found other ‘sisters’ who had tried to recover countless times from addictions, but here at Heart Ease there was hope. Yes, there really was.

This center was different than many; it focused on Jesus as the only answer. The program was strict, really strict for they were expected to take part in several hours of Bible study every single day, and were not allowed to ever leave without an escort.

After a year and a half or way longer if they wanted, if a person stuck with the program they could graduate, if they were ready. Being ready meant being able to rent an apartment and have a job for at least three months. Most were terrified of leaving, but of course,

they weren’t abandoned, they had their support group, and best of all they had Jesus.

Are you like Natalie, desperate, despairing and certain you have tried every ‘solution’ out there?

There is hope. There truly is. Jesus can be your anchor from drifting back into sin. There are friends of Jesus who would love to reach out to you, also.

 Contact me, if you want and I’ll see what I can do to help. Look up Heart Ease in the telephone book, or elsewhere. I’m trying to find an address for you.

P.S. I tried to find the website for you but the link appeared to be broken: try this:
The Bowery Mission Women’s Center at Heartsease Home

Whatever you do, never, never, never give up; there is hope. 

Alone and Suffering

This poem is my gift to you  if you feel all alone and as if no one cares.  If you can, print it out and tuck it in a safe place where you can always find it.

You are the one

That needs a home

A mother's love

A Daddy's care

You are the one

Who haunts my dreams

Disturbs my sleep

With your sad stare.

You are the one 

Who will be sighing

In some dark place

Alone tonight.

You are the one

I'd love to find

Take to my heart

And hold you tight.

Oh Precious Child

Just pray to God

And trust in Him

I know He cares

Oh Troubled Child

I pray someone 

Will Find you soon

And call you theirs.

One Wrong Decision

One Wrong Decision

Dear Diary, Cara stared at the words with growing frustration, then anger. Why do I have to resort to pouring out my feelings out on a mere scrap of paper? Isn’t there anyone, anyone at all who cares and understands? She clutched at her hair. I sure blew it way back when I was a kid, but I didn’t know any better, did I? Or did I? She leaped up and paced back and forth in front of the darkened window of the cheap apartment building.

Dear Diary, She sat down and stared at the words once again, then picked up her pen. Memories came flooding back. From her viewpoint the most precious recollection of them all seemed to be enshrined in gold. I was so happy that summer when I was nine. Les and Bonny cared for me like a daughter. I know they cared even though I stressed them out many a time with my wild ways. But I blew it. I blew it! I chose not to stay, and every home since then has been worse in one way or another. I never knew it would be such a rocky road if I took my own way, but how can I ever get back to that peace and serenity I knew as a kid on the farm?

She pressed her fingers against her lips to keep them from trembling, but the tears pooling in her eyes couldn’t be so easily stooped. I even stooped to asking Les’ if they would take me in; let me find a job in their community, but no, of course not. It was too late. They had their own children to think about. They didn’t say so, but I knew they thought I might be a bad influence on them. And it’s true. I might.

She viciously tore the tear stained paper out of the notebook, ripped it in half, crumbled it, and tossed it on the floor. I’m not the same girl I was then. In some ways I am even worse. And, yeah, their children would be curious to know what I have gone through, and in a weak moment, I would tell them…and relish it.

Oh God what do I do about this longing in my breast, so dull and yet so real? I want a different life. I want to find that light at the end of the tunnel but there are so many boulders in the way. How will I ever find it? She lay her head down on the desk and wept.

Come unto me all ye that labor, and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Matthew11:28

If this sounds like you, remember there is HOPE. Reach out to God and he will reach out to you. 

Tumbling into a Valley

Now where shall I start this article? I have spent three glorious weeks travelling and it has been truly a mountaintop experience, but now I have tumbled down into the valley. See that little old lady with a cane? Well that feels like me.

All that driving in a car really crippled me up and I still can’t walk—change that to limp—without discomfort. I told my hubby last night that I felt imprisoned in my own body. Okay, that’s the down side of my experience, but there is a definite UP side. We stopped to see relatives in various places as far flung from each other as Edmonton, Alberta and way down to Oklahoma. We did go further than that though: Mississippi was our goal.

 Do you know what people have in common? A caring attitude.

When we reached Stephen’s sister is Kansas, I pretended to walk normally but didn’t deceive anyone. It wasn’t long before they were hovering over me like I was a beautiful bird with a broken wing.  Did that compassion soon stop? Nope. Because of generous, concerned loved ones, I ended up seeing chiropractors not once but four times before we arrived back home, and once since.

I admit being a little leery of having my bones manipulated, but hey, when you are desperate enough, you’ll do anything right?  To my surprise chiropractic methods have really soared over the last thirty years, and I was introduced to something called an Activator which really helped.  Believe it or not, anyone could have seen the improvement in my walk if there had been a before and after video taken.

No, it wasn’t a magic cure-all but hey, it took years to get into this condition which was caused mainly by an ancient injury, but at least I see light at the top of the valley I have tumbled into.

Oh, by the way, when I started rambling I didn’t really know which way this article was going, but there is one thing I must share with you.

Medical problems in the states aren’t something we Canadians look forward to having, but do you know what? Four of those treatments, plus ointment, plus pills and plus a couple of informative books were all provided anonymously free of charge. Any wonder why I’m feeling a bit teary-eyed?

Predators

Now why did I have to dream about him?  In spite of things that happened in my childhood and teen years I haven’t been plagued by those kinds of dreams. Why now?

                There was a large glossy topped table between us but it was obvious that he was after me. I would rapidly walk a few steps then stop. So would he. He would cross his arms and give me a slightly sneering grin. I glanced around at the wood paneled walls. No windows and doors in sight, no escape route. I started moving again and so did he. This kept on for a while. I knew he was just wearing me down in his tormentingly leisurely way.

                I dropped to my knees, putting my head on my arms, and cried out to God. Then my alarm rang.  He vanished, but I was still troubled. Why did I dream about him?

                My husband had an explanation that echoed my own.

                “It was a good dream,” he said. “Because you knew where to turn, you cried out to God.” (Something like that.) “Your Dad represents evil to you.”

                But why did I dream it? Why, why? And then I knew. There are those of you that are facing situations like that. You and ‘him’ seem to be going round and round the table.  He ‘knows’ he will wear you down eventually and is gloating. But will he? Does he have to? No. Sure you have an adversary, but you also have an Advocate. Jesus is our protector and guide out of difficult situations.

                But do you have an advocate? Have you found Jesus to be a haven of rest ‘in the trying scenes of life’ as one song put it?  He doesn’t wave a magic wand and make all your troubles disappear but He will be there for you making you stronger, giving you comfort. Admit that you can’t ‘escape’ on your own. Admit that you are poor and needy in need of a Savior and commit everything to the lovingly Heavenly Father’s care. 

Border Crossing Adventure

Is any border simple--no big deal? Maaaybe...somewhere. But certainly not between Mozambique and Malawi. I'm not sure why it had to take so long, but being ignorant with the language and customs certainly didn't help.


Look around you. See all the traffic, even huge older trucks nosing it for a better spot? See all the pedestrians and all the different stops we have to make and all the papers we have to sign. Quite a deal, huh?  I reckon this is a favorite spot for both beggars and sellers! Ah, but they have such appealing eyes...the beggars, I mean, and the craftsmen sure did want us to come to their open air markets. Sometimes they would come right up to us with their goods. Did I actually say sometimes??!! They must spot a tourist a mile away and make a beeline towards us! But hey, we can't help everyone, not that we were even tempted, sorry to say!


There is one unforgettable border crossing though. We had a man and a boy in our truck. The boy had had a club foot that had been surgically repaired, earlier, and now infection had set in so Milton was bringing him in to the Be In CURE hospital. This memory isn't about them though, because they were so quiet, I hardly noticed them.


While we were milling around, mostly waiting, of course, I caught sight of a young mother with a sad face and a baby on her back. She was holding a little boy by the hand. For some reason she tugged at my heart so I said Bon Deah. (Good day) She responded without any light in her eyes, and a little while later I decided to try again, so pointed to her baby and said "Bonita." Surely that would make her smile. I think it means "Beautiful" in Portuguese and doesn't every mother like to have her child complimented? It brought a response alright, but I couldn't understand a single word she said, so Milton had to come to my rescue.


It came out that she wanted just a little money, but our son investigated further and found out that her little boy's arm had gone limp a month or two before, and he strongly suspected that he had Malarial Cerebral Palsy. (Groan) So we  brought her with us into Malawi and to the hospital. It was hard on me having her sit in the back of our covered truck while we sat in comfort in the front, so offered to join her there. I was told that it was okay,  she was probably sitting on our luggage so I went quiet.


An interesting cultural difference showed up at the hospital. She didn't mind if I helped carry her luggage, but when my husband picked something up, she quickly said, "Let it be, let it be."


She was overwhelmingly grateful for the room in the hostel and other assistance All I could do was haltingly try to point her to the Giver of All Good Gifts.


Please pray for her. I hope all is well with her and her family.