“Thank you, for saving my life.”

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The words I spoke to the doctor and nurses after they got done working on me.

A nurse said in return, “Honey, it was the doctor who saved your life.”

“True,” I said, “but it was all of you working together.” Then I looked at the doctor and personally thanked him.

I knew and know WHO really saved my life from sudden destruction. No doubt, the way things went down, the perfect timing on everything, the way things played out — I know it was God who saved my life. Still, I wanted to thank the people He used. When I heard during the procedure my heart rate was 32, I thought, “Uh oh, that can’t be good.” They used a pacemaker to bring my heart rate up, just so I could survive the heart cath, that removed the blockages, allowing them to put two stents in. I found out the other night through my sister, that my brother’s heart rate was 30. I think it is safe to say, I was on the edge of death.

Those words, “Thank you, for saving my life,” have echoed in me since I’ve been home. I’ve pondered on it since. Wondering why they keep coming to me. God knows, I was not glorifying man, when I spoke those words.  He knew/knows that I thank Him and glorify Him for allowing me to live.

So, I’ve come to the conclusion why those words have stood out. It is because, not once did I wonder what someone’s politics may have been. The very same thing that happened when dealing with my brother last summer with his heart attack. But I had forgotten.

I am going to be brutally honest, here, but hope by the end, the reader will see God’s handiwork, His deliverance. I’ve already said, I believe my anger and rage, helped accelerate my heart attack. The main thing making me mad, was politics. I had reached a point where I knew in my heart, I had no love for anyone, no one at all, who differed in opinion with me. I loathed that part of America who helped put what I believe is a Socialist at the very least, a Marxist Communist at the worst and a closet Muslim, in the White House. It made no difference to me, who they were. I wanted nothing to do with them. And made it very clear to all who knows me. I purposely stayed away from any events, if I thought a flaming liberal was going to be there. I just did not want to have to deal with it, if something along the line of politics were brought up. I did not trust what would come out of my mouth. I have never been one that wanted to hurt people on purpose. But give me a reason, and my words could cut like a knife. I didn’t want a chance of that happening, so I built a wall, which kept me insulated. The whole time, my rage growing like some monstrous dragon. I could not get past it. I asked God to change me, I asked Him to forgive me as I knew it was wrong — but well, still felt justified in that anger. To let go of it, would be a type of weakness, compromise on my part. That’s the way I saw it and nothing was going to change it — until May 9, 2015.

I don’t know the politics of the doctor and nurses. I didn’t care. Their mercy, their work, their concern for my life, transcended any and all preconceived notions, I may have had, if I knew them personally. The wonderful warmth of the blankets thrown upon me, their somber concerned faces looking down upon me with kindness, the gentle way they dealt with me, their complete merciful and compassionate attention for my total well – being, felt like a touch of heaven.

They were not “Republicans” or “Democrats” “Liberals” or “Conservatives” that day. I saw them as God’s instruments to help me and save my life.

My views on politics are still just as strong, but at the end of the day, what does it matter? When we all stand before God, He is not going to be taking notes on what political party we were in. He will be looking at our hearts. Did we receive His Son, while on this earth, as THE Savior, the Redeemer who bought us through His precious blood that we may live forever with Him? In that ambulance, I knew that I had done that back in 1976. But, my life was not where it should have been. I had let anger, rage, bitterness, hatred, unforgiveness rule my life. Simply put — I more or less, kicked Jesus off the throne of my heart some time ago and did not let Him be King and Lord over my emotions.

I had sinned greatly.

But now I am free. How do I know I’ve been set free? One, I believe when a person is truly set free, God takes the shame in such a way, that you are not afraid to say so. That’s one way I have measured it for myself, over the years. Second, and best of all, because Jesus said, “He whom the Son sets free, is free indeed.” I have no doubts what God has done in my heart. He did what no man could do and He went where no man can go; in the deepest blackest heart I have ever known — my very own. He has set me free.

I want to apologize to any and all who may have come here at one time or another and read my hateful and harsh words. I long to be the woman intended me to be. One who is created in His image, not mine.

I since have deleted almost a thousand posts from this blog, reducing the size to only half of the blog that used to be. A lot of them, the videos were missing, some were no longer relevant, some on obama and government health care, some on politics. I am still working on it.

I continue to seek God in this matter, as I want this place to be a place of light and hope to all who come here.









A Creepy but maybe “prophetic” Dream?


See how great a forest a little fire kindles! And the tongue is a fire, a world of iniquity. The tongue is so set among our members that it defiles the whole body, and sets on fire the course of nature; and it is set on fire by hell. For every kind of beast and bird, of reptile and creature of the sea, is tamed and has been tamed by mankind. But no man can tame the tongue. It is an unruly evil, full of deadly poison. With it we bless our God and Father, and with it we curse men, who have been made in the similitude of God. Out of the same mouth proceed blessing and cursing. My brethren, these things ought not to be so. Does a spring send forth fresh water and bitter from the same opening? Can a fig tree, my brethren, bear olives, or a grapevine bear figs? Thus no spring yields both salt water and fresh. — James 3:1-12 —

The following dream had been in my drafts since July 2013. This is the reason, you see the color red I used to use for Scriptures. Being on an IPAD, now, I don’t know how to use certain things in WordPress, as I had on my computer. I had forgotten about the dream, until I ran across it the other day.


I usually do not remember most of my dreams, and when I do, most of the time they make no sense and I go on and give them no thought. But every now and then, I get one and it leaves an impression. Such as the one, I had a few nights ago. I can be a big baby after having a bad dream, and will wake my husband up and ask him to pray for me. Which I did in this case.

I hate using the word “prophetic” as it has been used so flippantly and usually used with deceit and manipulation now days. However, it is a word in the Bible and I suppose I should not fear using it every now and then.

So it is with that thought, I tell the dream.

I dreamed that something was in my throat and I had to bring it up. I was kind of gagging, not knowing what it was and trying to force the thing up. It would not come up. The roof of my mouth was thick with a sticky like substance. I found myself taking my thumb and putting it to the roof of my mouth and pulling forward. I then could feel the thing coming up out of me, all along the back of my tongue, being drawn out by my thumb. I had no idea what it was I was pulling out of me. I just knew it had to come out.

It finally began to surface and when I pulled it out of my mouth, it was a little snake about as thick as my finger. It was silverish and I saw a spine like thing on it. I was totally sickened by it and threw it down. Again, the gagging began and once again my thumb went up to my mouth and I began drawing something out. Again, it was a snake. Only much bigger and longer. It was nastier looking than the one before. It was yellowish in color and the head was big enough to cup in my hand. Horrified, I threw that thing down, also. Then I woke up.

I told my husband about it and asked him if snakes represent deceit, then what could that dream possibly have to do with me. I don’t go around trying to deceive people. As anyone who truly knows me, knows that I not only speak what is on my mind, but I don’t play games. I don’t like guessing games. Or mind games. Or Passive/aggressive behavior.

My husband told me no, he did not see me as a deceiver. “You tend to go in the other direction by the way you say things. The passion is good until it gets out of control. Then it makes your words more ineffective. Perhaps the Lord is wanting to take away the vemon and purify your speech.”

His words were confirmation to me. God had already revealed that much to me. I know what my tongue is capable of. I have had to deal with the consequences of my tongue on a personal matter for two years due to a family matter. I had said some hurtful things in retailiation. But God has restored, redeemed the situation and all around, things are being built in His image.

I’ve learned the past couple years, just because something is true, does not always give me the right to say it. Yes, if you ask me if the dress makes you look fat, I will tell you. Other than that, don’t ask and I won’t say.

Sometimes words are unkind whether we aim them to be or not.

The silverish snake had me a little baffled. Even though I was repelled by it, it was almost beautiful in a sense. I remembered a term: silver tongue, and went online to see if I could find the meaning. The meaning is: Silver tongue is an expression used to describe a person who is able to clearly and effectively express themselves, or who has a clever way with words.


This I had a hard time with. Because if you could see me actually trying to write something or even trying to express myself at times, you would think my mental facilities are not all together functioning. Maybe some of you think that anyway, I don’t know. Sometimes, I even wonder. Yet, I can take comfort in knowing God uses the weak.

END OF THE DRAFT that never got finished.


Now, it is Nearing the end of May 2015. I can clearly see what the dream meant. So many times, I allowed my tongue to be used by the enemy of my soul — the devil. This brought great reproach to God. The One who redeemed me back in 1976. I make no excuses. I take full responsibility and ask for your forgiveness when I was more harsh than I should have been, when I said things in an ungodly anger, when I acted with pride. I could not have been anymore outside of God’s will in the way He desired to use my tongue. How sorry I am to Him and how sorry I am to any who I may have offended by the way I said something. I may have easily hurt one of His little sheep. I don’t want to do that. Speak truth? Yes. But hurt one of God’s children? No.

THIS is my desire, my hope:

“The Spirit of the Lord spoke by me,
And His word was on my tongue. — 2 Samuel 23:2 —

Having Hope Restored! … “the tree of life”.


This article is dedicated to Bethenia Hayes, someone I never have met or talked to, but found out she had been praying for me. Thank you, Bethenia, for being faithful to our Father.

I tried writing about this some time ago:


hoping that perhaps others going through some rough times, would feel they were not alone. For I know that feeling all too well. You find yourself living vicariously through the lives of others, standing at a distant, watching them enjoy life. However, I could take great pleasure seeing others being blessed and having fun. Having health issues, along with other things I had little to no control, bothering me, did not stop me from finding myself content in hearing how a loved one was able to go and enjoy life.

Still, I wanted to be able to go and do, without having to be concerned about sudden sugar drops, the chronic pain always getting in the way, not knowing if it was going to be a good day or bad day, depending upon how my body felt. So, I adapted to my life, or lack of thereof. I got used to the idea of not going places, not seeing people, not playing my keyboard, guitar and singing, blogging, spending Thanksgiving alone, because, well, it took too much out of me to even think about getting ready, let alone leave the house. One thing about invisible illnesses is, the sufferer constantly feels judged by others, whether people mean it or not. I learned to forgive early on, because people simply do not know any better. I still wanted others to enjoy life, even if I wasn’t able in the way any of us expected.

Being quick to know the scripture, “Hope deferred makes the heart sick,” I failed to pay much attention to the last part of it, “but when the desire comes, it is a tree of life.” I didn’t know what it meant, and being cynical, thought it had nothing to do with me. And even if it did, like Dorothy on the Wizard of Oz, felt like there was nothing in that little black bag for me. Self pity? Perhaps, perhaps not. One gets used to hopelessness. When you find yourself in a dark gloomy place for years, you get used to the fact; you are alone. Certain emotions die. Even self pity, because that hopelessness that is surrounding you, is also swallowing your very being.

But now I do know what the last part of that scripture means. Some have been taught God’s “perfect” will does not use sickness as a means to “teach” anything. I could not care less about what those heretics say. They were not the ones who have known what I have lived with for years: A sense of hopelessness, even when things were going good, because, well, it was just a matter of time before I was dealt the next blow and I had to be prepared. Constantly bracing myself for things to come. The black clouds that appeared to come from nowhere, darkening my every thought, my every emotion, my very existence. Oppression? Of course. But there wasn’t a soul on earth who could do a thing about it.

More than once, telling my few closest friends, “I think I was just born this way. I did not get a positive gene, like science now claims. This is how God made me.” I wasn’t saying it flippantly and I wasn’t blaming God, as I’m sure there was purpose in it and I still trusted Him. His words coming to my mind more than once, “I will never leave you or forsake you. ” No matter what my life may have looked like to others, I knew God still loved me, and that was all that mattered. It didn’t matter if others didn’t understand. Jesus did.

“… but when the desire comes, it is a tree of life.”

If anyone would have told me a heart attack would bring “a tree of life” to me, I would have said they were nuts.

You see, I had lived in such a way, expecting the worse, that I even told my husband a week or so before the heart attack, ” I have nothing to look forward to, except a heart attack, a stroke or Cancer.” Now, I can just hear some of you saying, “You confessed it, it came to you!” To that I say, GOD is the ONE who knows everything about me from the tiniest to the greatest detail. It did not take Him by surprise. He was NOT sitting on His throne, saying, “Gee, Brenda, wish you hadn’t said that, cause now I have to let it happen.” What kind of God is that who lets His creation tell Him how to do anything?!

But I digress.

“the tree of life” I have found, is this: I use to not be able to read a lot, therefore reading my Bible was practically impossible. But now I can! I got frustrated easily, so much so, if my husband moved the salt shaker, I would snap at him. He didn’t know the amount of energy and strength it took, just to walk in the next room. Neither of us knowing my heart was in bad shape. More than once telling him, “I don’t know where that woman you married, went to. She is dead, I’m sorry.” But now he is getting his Bride back! I use to tire very easily and put myself under condemnation, by telling myself, “I’m just lazy. I just need to push myself on through.” Some of the things I did in “pushing through” endangered my life. Like building a small patio out of cement blocks a week or so before the heart attack. It took my husband to tell me to stop and take a break. It’s a wonder I didn’t drop dead, then! But now, I no longer feel condemned if I need to rest.

I had lost all hope that I would ever be able to play my guitar and write a song again. But now, I have the desire! Playing my keyboard once brought me great pleasure and I had given up on that. But now I desire to fill our home with music again!

I had reached a point many times of coming to this blog and just deleting it. “Nothing good is ever going to come out of it. I’m too angry, people know it and I can not help it.” But something always held me back from doing it. Trying to write anything at all, was hopeless. The things I wanted to say could not be said on a “Christian” blog, so I said all those things on FAcebook. More than once embarrassing myself, but still thinking, “Well, it’s still the truth, no matter how I say it. Nobody likes it, tough beans.” But I am getting the desire to write again, and this time, wanting to do it God’s way, not mine. This is where Bethenia comes in. I found she had been praying for my writing. Perhaps, some of you were, too. God knows how humbling it is to me, to know that others have cared in such a way, when I had nothing good in me. Other than the Spirit of God, that I often quenched through my rage.

I used to be terribly angry. This we all know. But God has delivered me from that. I still care what goes on in the world, but I can not go back to that woman. I see life as “a vapor” now. None of us are promised a tomorrow.

“… the tree of life” can represent different things to different people. I’ve told you some of mine. And if at all possible, I want to share and bless others with this “tree of life” I have been given.

A very godly “thank you” to those of you who have never given up on me.






People who inspire me in one way or the other — Keith Green

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I didn’t know anything about Keith Green or his music until I met my husband. We received the little booklets of his ministry through the mail and I devoured them. It was then, that I began to get a better understanding of the true calling of the Christian. We read the book “No Compromise” on Keith’s life. The main thing that stood out to me was when he had concerts he did not charge people. He trusted that God would meet his needs. Such a contrast with today’s profiters of the Gospel!

I found this in my drafts today from a few years back. I put up today, in hopes that he will inspire you as he has me.


Keith Green: Altar Call


I found this in my drafts, dating back to 2013, as I was cleaning the blog. My original comment back then was: None of us are promised a tomorrow.

Friend, those words have never been more true to me, than they are today.

Jesus told His followers, “You are the light of the world.” May His light shine through us.

Kurt Penney:

A New Direction


Blessed be God, who has not turned away my prayer, nor His mercy from me! –Psalm 66:20 —

I know, I tried addressing this issue a few months back,


but since my heart attack, things have been made clear to me.

My first desire for this blog was to be one on the apostasy as I began to see it unfold some years ago. I do not intend to do that anymore. Some of you will be relieved out of me not “touching your ‘anointed’ “ones, anymore. However, there are others out there, who are much better equipped to keep on pressing in, in that area and they with a remarkable ability and anointing of God, will continue to speak the truth, with the same desire I had: Seeing the captive set free from abominable lies of the whore who is pretending to be the Bride of Christ.

They will do it much better than I ever could. They have the right spirit, where I did not. They have the mental facilities to pull it all together. I did not. They won’t rant in a rage, whereas I did.

Some of you still come here, searching out the truth on individuals and I am glad that at least I have that much to offer. However, from here on out, if you need further assistance, please go to these links. I trust them 100 percent to never lead you astray. I will be putting them on my blog roll, for your convenience.




I have removed, still in the process of removing everything on obama and mostly all other articles on politics. I believe these things, along with the loathsomeness I have had about the Apostasy, helped cause my heart attack. In 2009, my main arteries were clear. I’ve spent the past six years full of rage, resentment and hatred, every single day of my life! The thief (the devil) comes  to steal, kill and destroy. No more, will I allow the likes of obama and other men be used of Satan, to try and destroy my life. No more will I let the blatant witchcraft and false teaching in the Church, make me so angry where I can not think, focus or enjoy life. I —  am — done!

More than likely, some of you will find the blog boring now. That’s going to have to be ok with me, as I allow the Lord to do this new thing in me. I refuse to be led and used by Satan as some kind of ranting spectacle, bringing reproach to the God I love and want to serve.

Obama got more attention than he deserved from me. He was not the one who was with me, May 9, 2015, during my heart attack when I was alone. It was Jesus who gave me each breath, each step, each second. Who is man, any man, that he should deserve my attention in such a way I have spent in six years? Shame on me. Only God is worthy.

I also will be changing “The Reason for this Site,” on my page list. I believe God is giving me a second chance to get it right and I want His truth and Spirit to lead me, in all things.

I have been set free. I do not want to go back to that woman, who once ran this blog.

The fire breathing dragon is dead!

From Troll to Saint

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“Not by might, nor by power, but by My Spirit”,  says Lord of Hosts — Zechariah 4:6 —

The word troll — which I find repulsive — is used among homosexual men to describe themselves or one another, as age approaches, or as a way to describe those who go after sex partners.

My brother used it as slang for getting old. “I’m nothing but an old troll, now,” he would joke. However, I never laughed, telling him he was more than that.

We both were looking forward to being around for one another when we hit 60 years old. He, just 14 months younger than I. Our birthdays two months apart, our mother would have one birthday party between us when we were children.

Ricky and I spent time talking about aging. The pros and cons. Pro, being able to watch a movie or something and watching it again, not remembering it the first time, and finding it as a brand new event. Pro, reaching the age of knowing who true friends were. Pro, just being grateful we lived as long as we have, because some of our friends had already passed on. The biggest pro was being hopeful that age had made us a little wiser and not as stupid, as in our younger days.

The cons being how it sucked watching our bodies give in to the natural aging process, when a part of us still felt like we were in our 20s and early 30s. We joked about skin tags, getting out of breath, my having hair where once I didn’t. He loved that one! My losing bladder control when I got tickled, was his favorite and he would purposely do and say funny things, just so he could stand back to watch it happen!

Our joking about it, was our way of dealing with reality. I still let the aging process get to me more than he did. He used to tell me, “Well, Brenda, whadda Ya gonna do? You can either cry about it or laugh.” When he was around, I was laughing about it, because he had such an optimistic disposition.

So, when he started calling himself an old troll because of a skin tag here or there, it saddened me. He was no troll, in my eyes. He was my brother who had been so many things to me, during our life together.

The past two years, he began to change. He had mellowed out. As sick as he was, he enjoyed spending time with family. Especially with our baby sister — who the two of them had a very special connection, for which I was never envious, but glad — and her family, enjoying her swimming pool, sun bathing, wanting to be with her two little twin grandsons. He would visit our other brother and his family, and he would visit me. I began to see him as a true patriarch of the family. Caring deeply for each member. So much so, that it really did put me to shame. I had lost patience in some areas, but Ricky still hung in there, with a heart of love, whereas, mine was waxing cold, impatient, very little mercy flowing out of me. But Ricky, he was a type of plumb line for me.

I looked upon him with a sense of awe. He was changing, wanting to know about the things of God. He came to me for that and I was just real with him, telling him my failings, etc. explaining to him, I know I’m rotten to the core, and only Jesus makes me worth anything because of His work in the cross.

I had bought him a Bible years ago, but like so many people, he never liked to read, so if he ever read it, I don’t know. But, he would want to know what scripture had to say about certain things and the end times. He listened with eager ears as I read him parts of it. Then, we would discuss it.

He went from being apathetic and cold towards Israel, to curious, accepting, loving and watching it, as God’s time table for events in the world. He would call me asking what I thought about certain events. He went to work saying, “I think we are in the last days”. He was not parroting me, he really believed. Some listened to him in agreement and I could see it excited him.

I found myself trembling every time we got to talk about Biblical things! You see, many years ago, when we both were in the prime of our youth, full of strength and vitality, he was hostile even at the mere mention of God or the Bible. Contrary to what some of you may believe, I was never a “Bible Thumper”, carrying a Bible the size of a watermelon around on my hip, with one finger extended, crying out, “Repent, thou foul sinner!” Neither, was I one to think I was better than my brother. We both knew things about each other. We both knew the other had never been an angel. We had that much in common, thank God! He also knew I was not the same woman, he remembered as in our younger days.

He would mock me or ridicule me at times. I know brothers can be a pain in the butt that way, and sometimes a sister just has to suck it up. I tried to keep a low profile around him, hoping he wouldn’t notice me, but when our eyes met, I knew I was in for it, because mischievousness  twinkled in his eyes! However, sometimes, something in him would go to the extreme and at times, I found it very hurtful. I had done nothing to ever reject him or his friends, but something in him, had fun in doing it to me. Honestly? It was nothing more than demonic. It just made me love him more, as aggravated as I could get.

A month or so before his heart attack, he called to tell me he was watching some preacher on TV. My first inward reflex was, “Oh great. Wonder who THAT is. Now, I’m going to have to contend with a false teacher.”

I asked who it was and it was local. He told me what the sermon was about. He said it felt like it was being said to him. I don’t remember now what it was, but upon hearing it, I found it to be good not only for Ricky, but myself as well. So it gave us the opportunity to discuss God’s Word together.

Understand, he went from a man who had been hostile toward the things of God, to a man who in a quiet humble sort of way, was hungering and thirsting for truth. So much so, that one day, out of nowhere, he told me, “I’ve come to believe I was not born gay, but chose it.”

I gently agreed with him. He said as much as he had enjoyed life, he wished he could have done some things differently. I assured him, everybody can say that for themselves, I know I can.

I told him this about him being gay. Maybe not word for word, not all in one moment, but at one time or the other, as he was the one who always brought the subject up, not I: “God created you in His image, Ricky. He put certain traits, abilities, gifts, talents in you while you were still in Mom’s womb. He made you a sensitive little boy, not a sissy like others and myself teased, but one who was curious, adventurous, creative. Whereas you liked to learn to bake cookies and learning to sew, I would rather have been out playing G.I. Joe with the boys or climbing trees. I think this sometimes happens, Ricky. I think sometimes when God makes a little boy who is sensitive, etc., the devil sees it and comes to that little boy at a young age and whispers a lie in his little ears. The child, not knowing any better, begins to believe it. Shoot, Ricky, I wanted to please Dad so much, that I acted tough just so he would think I was strong, when all along I was really afraid.”

Example, Dad would tell Ricky and me that he would give a dime to whoever went out to the garage at night time to turn off the lights. I would do it, terrified of any boogie man that might be waiting. Ricky, on the other hand, would tell me, “It wasn’t worth a dime to me.” We laughed about that, even up to the last month of his life!

Ricky had become more gentle, patient, even edifying to me, as the things of the world were enraging me. Right before his heart attack, he had told me to let things go. As much as I wanted, I did not know how. Yet, admiring that thing in him, that truly was putting me to shame.

Ricky was a neat freak, a perfectionist. When he did a job, he did it well, with a type of professionalism, whether it was landscaping, painting, selling Home Interior, etc. That would spill over into his personal visits, when he would say things like, “Girl, when did you run the vacuumn cleaner last?” Or, “I can’t believe you haven’t washed your dishes.” Use to irratate the snot out of me and I would snap back, “Well, did you come to see me or the house?” Or, “If I had known you were coming, I would have hired a maid.” Brothers. You gotta love them.

But, he stopped doing that the past couple years. Something changed. Perhaps he saw I wasn’t feeling well, or perhaps his priorities were changing, taking more pleasure in just being around me, instead of finding fault.

I wasn’t the only one who noticed it. We all noticed it.

We talked about what it meant to be born again. About the deep things of God. I told him Salvation was quite simple, really. Man and religion make it a hard complex thing, when in reality it is desiring God to change who we are, knowing that we all are sinners and allowing and accepting what Jesus did for us on the Cross. Repentance meaning just  turning around, knowing we have been forgiven and allowing God to do the work in us, because we can’t.

The last month of his life, he mentioned something about maybe wanting to get baptized. He brought it up, not I. He spoke well of the young preacher he was watching and asked me to watch it with him on Sunday mornings, then he would call and we would discuss the sermon. Oh, how I loved those times. Forever precious to me.

I got to see what few people get to witness. I got to see an awesome God who knew everything about my brother, loved him throughout his life, even at the darkest of times and never once stopped loving him or gave up on him.

Therefore bear fruits worthy of repentance. — Matthew 3:8 —

I got to see those fruits. My brother may have thought he was nothing more than a “troll”, but God through His Spirit, changed him to a Saint.

Don’t give up on that loved one. If God can do this for my loved one, He can do it for you!










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