“Thank you, for saving my life.”


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.






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!

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 —


















Part 1: Having the chance to say good bye

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“Go on, touch her.”

“No, I don’t want to.”

“She can’t hurt you, go on.”

“No, I’m afraid.”

“Look. I’ll do it. See? She’s cold.”

That was my first experience with death. Standing in front of a casket, my younger brother, Ricky, inquisitive little thing that he was, wanted me to share in his fascination of a dead body. We could barely see her as we tippy toed to peer over the side. He insisted there wasn’t anything to be afraid of, but I wasn’t convinced. I never touched her.

I’ve thought of that moment quite a bit the past six months. The difference in our attitudes. It was the same all throughout our life together. He, not fearing death. I, paralyzed at the thought of it. He would challenge me many times, “How can you be so afraid, when you believe in God?” I had no answer. I still don’t. Perhaps it’s the suffering that may be involved or the finality of it in this lifetime. I just don’t know.

Many of us don’t have the chance to say good bye to a loved one. I had that chance with my brother and it is with that in mind, I write.

Ricky inherited our father’s heart disease (so have I for that matter) and he had three heart attacks over the past few years. The last one led him to the hospital in an ambulance. As the family arrived, the doctor took us all in a conference room and told us Ricky had another heart attack while the doctor was doing a heart cath on him. Went without oxygen to his brain for 40 minutes while the doctor shocked him 39 times. We were glad to know our brother was still alive. However, we were told chances may not be good. He could either go into kidney failure, infection could set in or he could be brain damaged. Time would tell.

It was brain damage. At first, we just held on to a hope that it was just the medications, being tied up in bed, being on a ventilator. We were not going to believe any bad report until we had proof. Tests were ran. Most of them inconclusive. Even the doctors could not agree with one another.

I made it clear more than once, that the staff would not talk in front of him like he was deaf. Using words in front of him like “brain damaged”  etc. However, they did anyway and by the second or third time, I let them know about it.

“I told you no! … He’s not deaf… He’s not a piece of furniture …. I realize you have other patients, but this is our brother here and you will respect him and our wishes … Don’t tell me he’s not suffering. How do you know? You ever been in his position?! … Do you think I’m stupid?! … Get me a patient advocate, Im not putting up with this …”

I had more than one round with these nurses who had seen it all and our brother was just one more body to them. But to us, he was our loved one. At the mercy of strangers, in my eyes. I had a hard time trusting.

We did get our advocate and she helped us in working with the staff.

My other brother, my sister and I spent time with Ricky. Trying to get him to respond. “Ricky can you squeeze our hand?” No response. There were times when even the slightest movement excited us. But it was nothing. It had to do with us having false hope more than reality. Still we clung.

My sister was the first to speak it: “He looks like he’s got cerebral palsy,” she tearfully told me over the phone. I thought the same thing but didn’t want to admit it yet. “It might be the drugs. Plus they have him tied down in bed. Could be his back hurts.” I realized I was grasping for straws. Something simple to explain his condition. It was easier than the reality of the situation.

We decided to give him a few days to see how he would respond when taken off the pain med. Surely, he will perk up and be back to his old self. I was already making plans on going home with him to help take care of him. But it wasn’t to be. He was on that ventilator 11 days.

(To be continued)







Fire Breathing Dragon


Behold, You desire truth in the inward parts,
And in the hidden part You will make me to know wisdom. — Psalm 51:6 —

It’s been months since my last writing. Not sure I can find the words to describe what has been going on with me since my brother passed away.

Some things have become more important and other things, less important. Family, being my top priority. Less important, politics of the world (though I can still get pretty riled up every now and then) and the ongoing apostasy within the Church.

For six years I have ran this blog exposing the manipulating man pleasing sugar coated occultic garbage coming out of the Church. I’m tired. Just as I have come to the conclusion that I have reached my zenith in playing guitar, never getting any better, so it is with other things I have given up on.

Perhaps, I am just a quitter or maybe it is God trying to lead me in a different direction. I don’t know.

I am finding the things I once had passion for, no longer interest me as much. My passion has became a curse. I am to blame. I could not control it. It became sin. Perhaps it was from the very beginning. God knows.

I knew this day would come. The day when all my resources would get burned out, literally burned out. At times I felt like a fire breathing dragon out of control. Anger raging in me such a way that felt more like something from the pit of hell, than a righteous anger of God.

Many of you came here, trying to show me, trying to reason with me. I saw it as weakness on your part. You were right, I was wrong.

More than once, I would wake up in the middle of the night so sickened of feeling like a complete failure to God, that I would go to the computer, sign on, come to this blog disgusted, wanting to delete it out of existence. But like everything else which touched my life, no peace about it. So I remained stagnant.

Perhaps I still am. God knows whether any good thing will come out of me or not.

In the meantime, just wanted the reader to know, I still appreciate those of you who pop in every now and then. I’m wanting to come back.

I want the dragon to die.




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