Seeds

As I was driving to church yesterday I looked up at the rear view mirror to see the seeds from my neighbor's Chinese Elm swirling about like popcorn in a hot air popper with the lid off.  I have to confess it made me giggle. 

During worship we took a break for the offering.  We were reminded of seed time, harvest time and Apostle prayed that we will discern our harvest.   Offering is one of my favorite parts of the service, it is where I get to give back to God.  Worship of God with my singing, dancing and my offering.  It is a wonderful way to start the day.

Once worship was over I took the kids to the Sunday School classroom.  During the Sunday school lesson the children and I were discussing the parable about the Wheat and the Tares (Weeds).  The enemy of the farmer came and threw bad seed in his newly planted wheat field.  We learned what the farmer did and what it meant in regards to the Kingdom of Heaven.  

On my way home I kept thinking about the different "seeds" that took place during my morning.  The Holy Spirit reminded me, "Words are also Seeds."  Yes Lord, thank you for that!  

I began meditating on how true that is.   What we speak can be a good seed or a bad seed in our lives and those that we speak to.  "Out of the same mouth proceed blessing and cursing - James 3:10" 

How often do we say, "You're killing me smalls!" or "I am sick and tired..." or "Mondays are the worst!" 

I have been guilty of those and much more.  I am in the midst of changing my mind-set and what I allow to come out of my mouth.  

I am learning to speak blessings to the negative things around me.   

When someone says, "I am sick" I respond with, "Bless you, I am well in Jesus name"  

When I am riding with a driver that is starting to get road rage I respond with, "All is well"

When someone says, "I hate..." I respond with, "Jesus loves you" 

When negativity comes out of the mouth, don't just let it hang there...say something positive to counteract it.  

I pray that the words that come out of your mouth are good seeds that bless you with a bountiful harvest.  

Until next time, God Bless!

Secrets

It was a Sunday like every other Sunday back when I was in Junior High.   I attended Northeast Assembly of God church in Fresno.  In order to get to go I had to ride the church bus.  It was about an hour ride since I was the first stop and there were a lot of kids that got picked up for church on this particular bus.  Henry Tong was the bus driver and had been since I started attending during the summer before the 5^th grade.  I remember being one of the oldest kids on this bus and was proud when Henry let me assist in leading Sunday school songs to younger passengers.  I got to be his helper until he got married to the lovely and sweet Laurie.  At first I missed being the bus helper but when Laurie started teaching us wonderful things of God, I quickly got over myself. 

Today’s lesson was not the typical lesson.  Today Laurie taught on the meaning of names and brought a Baby Name Book to tell each of us what of our names meant.  I was not particularly excited to participate as I never could find my name on anything that kids with normal names could.  I really didn’t want to hear how she couldn’t find my name in her book.  However that wonderful lady didn’t care that I immediately threw up my wall of attitude as she looked up my name without waiting for me to ask.  I learnt that my name Joela derived from the name Joel meaning Proclaimer of God.  That was the day that I fell in love with my unique name. 

Before that day I hated my name.  I hated that people couldn’t pronounce it.  I hated that people couldn’t spell it correctly.  I hated being teased with the different things that cruel kids can do to a name.  What I hated the most was what my mother would tell people when they would ask how she came up with my name. 

My mother had her secrets.  As a kid you don’t think that your mama has secrets because what on earth could she possibly ever do that would warrant the need to keep secrets.  Sure there are the secrets of being a female that are kept from the men folk as not to damage their psyche, but in general moms, good or bad, really didn’t require the need for them.

Looking back I am stunned that a woman who died at 45 could possibly have so many.  At first I was upset thinking how it was unfair that she died taking all her secrets to the grave with her.  However now I feel that her secrets were mainly unfair to her.  How awful to go through life feeling like you can’t tell anyone anything because of your past.  It pains me that she felt that she needed to keep things of her past buried so deep that digging a hole to China would have been an easier endeavor.  June Cleaver she was not but she wasn’t Ma Barker either.  Personally I always liked to think of her as more of a Lucy Ricardo with her twin being Ethel Mertz.  They would get into enough mischief to get into trouble but nothing that required the blood covenants that ran rampant in the family.

How could the true story of my name be something so terrible that my own mother thought it better to make up a lie to cover it up?  The lie had become second nature to her and it flowed out of her mouth so easily as if she believed it to be true.  I was horrified when people would ask the origin because then I would hear, “Oh I got it off a bar napkin.”   Really, now there is something to be proud of.

Well as you can imagine that didn’t set well with me, especially in grade school.  I was embarrassed that not only was my mother a drunk, she was a braggadocios drunk.  What did I do, I made up my own version.  I told people that my parents wanted a boy and they were going to name him Joe.  I surprised them by being a girl and since we lived near LA in southern California, they added the LA to the end of JOE to make it JOELA. 

My made up story wasn’t far from the truth.  When I was 21, 5 years after my mother’s death, my oldest cousin Janet called me.  Janet was near my mother’s age and they were close in their younger years.  After the normal small chit chat she got down to the business of her phone call.  She asked me, if my mama had ever told me the true reason about my name.  As I sat there praying that she wasn’t going to tell me that the bar napkin crap was true... I simply replied, “No.”  As I held my breath with the building excitement mixing well with anxiety, Janet asked if I had ever heard of Joe Barrera. 

My mind flashed back to the treasure I found in my baby book my mama kept hidden.  As I held my baptism certificate and baby book I asked my mama if Joe Barrera was my dad.  You would have thought I had uncovered her version of the Watergate scandal as she quickly took the newly found items away.  She started yelling at me that I was the bastard of James Kinum and told me to leave well enough alone.

Janet said something to bring me back to our phone conversation and I confessed to her that yes I knew of the name.  She began to tell me that mama and Joe got together months before my birth.  He was there when I was born and was named after him.  They did in fact only have a name picked out for a boy.  His name would have been Joel Charles.  Charlie was an elderly gentleman that was nice to my mama and she planned to honor him with my middle name.  However, low and behold, I was a girl.  So Joe being of Spanish origin added the “a” at the end to turn Joel feminine making Joela.  They took Charles and my mother’s name Ilene to make CHarlene that I pronounce SHarlene.  Joela Charlene rolls off the tongue better. 

Janet didn’t only call to tell me about my name.  She called to tell me that Joe had started adoption proceedings prior to mama leaving him.  I began to hear how drinking was more important for mama than settling down to create a stable family environment.  This was no real shocker for me because since the 1^st grade I was being left alone so she could go out drinking at her favorite honky tonk.

I kept quiet as my cousin told me how Joe has always kept up on my life via the family in Southern California.  The real surprise of the whole conversation was that Joe wanted to meet the child that was named after him and still considered his little girl.  Not only did I now have the truth about my name but all of a sudden I had a dad that I longed for.

As I wrote the above story for my writing class I was astonished how mama’s secret and the little lies to keep them, had hurt me.  Then I thought about mama thinking she had to lie to keep those secrets.  How it must of hurt her heart to think her life was so terrible that she had to lie about it.

I believe, like un-forgiveness left in your heart, secrets too can burden and hurt you.  My mama liked to bury the past so that the current boyfriend never knew about the past ones.  Not sure if that is because of jealousy of the current boyfriend, or if she was ashamed of her history or really what the reason was.  

My name and Joe Barrera was just the first secret that had been uncovered after her death.  It is true that not everything needs to be shared, but how silly was this whole matter of my name?  She did more damage to me and herself by burying it.

I pray that if you have secrets that are being a burden to you go to God and lay them at His feet.  

Until next time, God Bless!!!

Confession of a Time Killer

I am one of those people who make it a mission to be early to a scheduled meeting time or an appointment.  It was instilled in me as a child that if you have to be somewhere at 9:00 am, you plan on being there at 8:45 am.  That way if you hit all the red lights or you have to wait for a train crossing – you may be delayed a bit however you won’t be late.   If you plan your time efficiently you will be at your destination in plenty of time to ensure that you are not tardy.

Today was no different.  I was meeting the ladies for coffee at 10:00 am this morning.  However I needed to go by the office supply store for some printer ink.  I left my house at 9:15 am getting to the store by 9:30 am.  The coffee shop was only ¾ block away from the store.  I knew where my ink was and had all 3 colors needed in less than 30 seconds.  So what did I do?  I did as any office supply junkie would do, I browsed the store.   I looked at all the colorful post it notes, markers, paper and gadgets that give me the warm fuzzies. 

Mind you I was just here last night getting binders, dividers and new pens for my writing class and blog history.  I had seen all this stuff last night.  I was only here in the store today because I forgot the list of ink colors I needed last night.  I have gone through a lot of ink lately and forgot which ones I have recently replaced – trying not to buy more than I actually need as back up.

As I walked out of the store I checked the time and I still had 10 minutes to kill…BAM, the Holy Spirit convicted me with, “Time is too precious to kill!”   Whoa!  Yes God, You are so right, I am sorry. 

As I thought about it, I had to confess that I am a notorious time killer.  A little here, a little there, and it adds up to quite a bit of time killing.

I even have an assignment to find the time to be able to spend more time with God.  I have been wondering where I am going to create time for Him and then with the help of the Holy Spirit I realize that I am killing the precious time I do have.

How many times a day do I check my email or facebook or a quick game of solitaire because I have a couple minutes in between tasks or projects?  What if I used that time to open the Bible?  What if I used that time to seek God?  What if I used it for praise and worship of my LORD?

If you are too busy for God – you are way busier than He had ever intended you to be!

This whole thing has me stopping to think.  How long have I lived and just existed?  How long have I wasted in front of a television just sitting there watching shows that don’t motivate my life in a positive direction?  Being bored with “nothing” to do so just surf the net or channel surf? 

Time is TOO PRECIOUS to kill.  This time killer is hanging up her guns.  Time is my friend to be enjoyed, treasured and not taken for granted. 

I don’t have 40 years to waste wandering the desert to get to the Promised Land.  God has a destiny for me, can’t be killing time when there is work to do.  I am your vessel my Lord.  Flow in me and through me.

Time is a currency. How you "spend" your time is what you "bought".  How are you spending YOUR time? (Myles Munroe)

I pray that you are not a time killer and will invest your time wisely.  God is waiting for you.

Until next time, God Bless!

Comfort with Comforters

A few months ago I started a sewing ministry that makes comforters for the homeless.  My love for helping people was ingrained in me from childhood.  Even though we were poor living in the projects of Fresno, we were taught to help others in any way that we could.

As a child I fell in love with the idea of quilts from a cartoon picture.  It was just a simple illustration of a person wrapped in a quilt to keep warm.  The person looked happy and contented in the colorful patchwork cover.

I had never seen a handmade quilt except on television.  I longed to have a quilt wrapped around me in a comforting hug.  However it would be a long time before my dream of owning a simple thing as a quilt would become a part of my reality.

In the early 1990’s I worked at a Denny’s off highway 99 in Fresno.  There was a new waitress in her 50’s that was showing a quilt to a customer.  I was drawn to that quilt like a moth to a flame.  You would have thought I was brought up with no manners, because I barged into their conversation asking, “Betty, do you quilt?” and before she could finish saying yes, I was asking, “Would you teach me?”

That was the beginning of mine and Betty’s friendship.  She called me “daughter” and I called her “mom”.  She was a wonderful woman who took this parent-less girl under her wings.  Not only did she teach me how to make quilts but she taught me all kinds of things that a mother teaches her daughter.  From making curtains to canning jelly, this woman could do it all!!  If she knew it how to do something, she was teaching it to me.  I was young mother of 3 children who in the next year would become a widow at the age of 26.

Betty opened a door to the love of quilts and sewing that impacted me more that I ever thought possible.  It sparked a passion that didn’t exist before that day at Denny’s.  I became obsessed trying to learn all I could about them.  I found quilting shows to record, classes to take and books to purchase.  I even joined a quilter’s guild and met other women who were even more passionate for quilts than I was.  Pretty soon I was teaching Betty new techniques.  The day before Betty moved to Oklahoma she came to tell me good bye and to see my new sewing room.  As she looked around the room she shook her head stating, “The student has surpassed the teacher.”   

Betty taught this girl how to create comfort with some fabric.  When you look in my linen closet you will only find one of the quilts that I have made.  I have given them all out; no one will be without comfort in my presence.

All my grandchildren live in other states and I don’t get to see them as often as I would like.  I have made each one of them special blankets.  As I gave them the blankets I told them when you miss me; wrap yourself up in this blanket to get a hug from Nana Jojo.  I am able to comfort them even when I am not there.

In the fall of 2010 a dear friend of mine was gathering blankets to give to the homeless.  Since that moment I felt a tugging on my heart to make comforters to give out. I have a ton of fabric just gathering dust; we should use it to comfort people.  Every year I brought it up to the women of my church to do as a community project; however they were all too busy with their own lives and obligations to help.

This last November as I again was trying to get help to make the comforters I was hitting the proverbial brick wall.  No one had the time or energy to help.  A young woman pulled me a side telling me that if God gave you the vision; you should start the ministry on your own.  I will be honest with you that is the last thing I wanted to hear.  No way was I going to do this on my own and thought no more about it.

In January I got a call from my church Pastor.  He had called to see how I was doing and talk about my plans for the upcoming year.  Toward the end of our conversation he kept emphasizing that as members of the church we are the ones responsible for ministry work.  It is up to us to take the love of God to the streets.  I felt the tug on my heart again.  As I hung up the phone, God told me, “It is time for you to start the sewing ministry.”

That is the day Comfort with Comforters was born.