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!










Finding God through a Heart Attack



Mercy and truth have met together; righteousness and peace have kissed. — Psalm 85:10 —

It’s been months since I’ve been able to have anything to say. Hopefully, this post will do justice to the mercy that God has shown me in the past week.

I had a major heart attack May 9, 2015. I woke up feeling as if I had Pneumonia. Never had Pneumonia in my whoyle life, but the symptoms reminded me of when my mother used to get it. No coughing, hard to breath and a pain in my chest that felt like I had been violently coughing for days. I thought I got it from trying to kill the hornets that were buzzing around my back porch.

I sat down hoping for relief. My husband asked if I wanted him to stay home from walking the dogs, but I gave him the ok to go, telling him I would be ok.

He was gone maybe 10 or 15 minutes, when the pain, the inability to breath and incredible weakness hit me harder. I went to go lay down, but something told me, “If you lay down, your husband will come home and find you dead.” For a second or so, I almost gave into it, because that is how much I have loathed this world and my own life. But, the thought of my husband coming home to find me dead, made me sad, even though I had reached a point this past year, praying for the woman who would replace me if I died. So I walked out of the room, hoping a phone was nearby, as walking was a tremendous feat. I found it and called him, trying to be very calm, told him to come home as soon as possible. By then, I thought I was having a heart attack, but did not tell him, because I did not want to alarm him. I trusted him completely to come on home.

I called 911 and when asked what my emergency was, I barely was able get the words out, “I think I’m having a heart attack.” Each syllable cost one breath. she asked if there was pain. I gasped, “yes.” she asked if I was clammy. I asked, “Sweating?” She said yes, and I told her yes. She gave me instructions to unlock the door and make sure my husband would know what hospital I was going to.

I bent down to put my shoes on and all I can compare that to, is I could not have been any more weak and tired, if I had been wrestling a tiger.

I stood up, wanting my phone book so I could call a neighbor to tell my husband where I would be. I started to walk in the kitchen, barely 10 feet away, something told me no, go straight for the front door. I barely made it with each step. My legs and feet felt like they were weighed down with huge iron. I thought each breath was going to be my last, and the pain in my chest, incredible. I had been praying the most simple prayer throughout: God, help me.

As I reached the front door, I prayed, “Dear God, please let me see a neighbor.” I open the door, step out and see my neighbor across the street. He did not see me. I managed to call out his name before I buckled over the porch railings. He came over and I managed to tell him I was having a heart attack, emergency help was on the way, please tell my husband where I am going. I felt like I was about to fall and I laid down on the porch, thinking if I didn’t, I would crack my head wide open. I asked my neighbor not to leave me. He said he wouldn’t. I was not freaking out. That would have taken more strength and energy, and I just didn’t have any.

I had been told some years ago that I had three small arteries that were blocked , arteries so small that the doctors could not do anything about, telling me they would eventually close up and I would have a “small” heart attack. Thinking this was a “small” heart attack, I thought of what my brother, Ricky went through almost a year ago. Thinking, “Dear God, if this is a small one, what must have dad and Ricky went through with theirs. Thank You, it’s a small heart attack.”

Paramedics got there and began working with me on the porch. I apologized for being on the porch. They reassured me it was ok and told me to be calm, that I was having a heart attack. Oddly, I was calm. There was no other way to be. I found myself not only at the complete mercy of God, but everyone around me, as well. Somehow, I managed to rest in that.

My husband came home finding the paramedics working over me. I managed to tell him I love him and I think I told him to tell my brother and sister, I love them too.

In the ambulance, I did not see my whole life flash before me, but I did see certain things. I saw how I had lived my life the past few years. Taking the physical problems out of it, I was made aware of how the past few years have been spent in being terribly angry at the darkness that is overtaking the world. And now? For what? Nothing. I saw how nothing good came out of it. What had it mattered? It didn’t. In my heart, I told the Lord, I was sorry I had nothing more to give Him, than the woman I had become the last few years.

Once at the hospital, I was in awe of how complete strangers, working like a well oiled  machine, were trying their best to save my life. I still was thinking it was a “small” heart attack and was practically begging them to “Please, make the pain go away.” They told me they were going to do a heart cath on me and stay calm. I begged them to please give me a “happy shot” or whatever they give to make me not care. The nurse bent down and said, “Honey, you’ve had a major heart attack. Right now, we’re concerned about your life.” Immediately, in an eye blink, I was calmer, had peace. It was a peace that truly surpassed all understanding. I became more still than I had been. I accepted the pain, instead of trying to fight it.

I got to see my brother and sister before the heart cath. They had been crying and I know what we all were thinking. We were thinking about Ricky before me, now this. I told them not to cry, that I will be ok, no matter what happens.

The nurse did end up giving me something to relax me, and even though I was already relaxed, still more than glad to get my “happy shot”.

My prayer throughout the ride to the hospital and upon arriving was this, “Jesus, You are Lord of Lords and King of Kings. Every knee shall bow and every tongue shall declare it. If this is the end of my life on earth, I want these to be the last words that come out of me as I leave this world and the first to be coming out of me, as I stand before You. If you cast me to hell, You still are Lord of Lords and King of Kings. You still are a perfect and just God.”

I did not pray this in some kind of hopes that this would cause me to enter heaven. No, it had everything to do with who God is.

I went on to tell Him, “But, if You do take me from this earth, who will be left to teach my family about You? I know You could even get the stones to rise up and speak, if You desire, as I have been such a failure in so many things. I can’t make any promises, God. I dare not, because I know me. But if it’s Your will to leave me here, then help me be the woman You meant for me to be, because I can’t do it.”

Then asking Him to watch over my husband, our two dogs and my brother and sister and their families, I went back to my first prayer.

Earlier, as I was being rushed to the heart cath, I asked the nurses if any were Christians. Two said yes. I said, “Will you pray for me? I’m not ashamed of my God.” They said yes, and as the procedure began, they prayed for me. The fact that I could even speak was a miracle in my eyes.

After the heart cath was over, the doctor told me I had a major heart attack due to my major right artery was 100 percent blocked. He was able to clear it and put two stents in. The other two, one 40 percent, the other 50 percent, blocked. They will attend to the other two arteries sometime down the road.

I was told more than once, had I not called when I did, I would have died.

So, with all that being said, how did I find God through a heart attack, you may ask?

It’s pretty clear, isn’t it, precious reader? He was there all the time.

God is good to give me a second chance. He was with me with each step, each breath, each second.

His greatest desire is for us to know Him. I thank God for that heart attack. I sensed His presence in a way like no other time. I’m certain others can say the very same thing about their own experiences. Surely, if He can keep me through such a horrible event, He can keep you too, no matter what you are going through.

“For I am persuaded that neither death nor life, nor Angels nor principalities nor powers, nor things present nor things to come, nor height nor depth, nor any other created thing, shall be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

— Romans 8:38 —