Collected
EveryDay Miracles

If you're religious,   

                 you'll HATE this book!
Because GOD shows up  all by Himself and not because I follow rules right or use the right words.  God's not about rules,
God is love.

He gives me signs that make me wonder . . .  . . and so will you. 
God shows up in miracles because He loves me passionately, not because I've always loved Him.
     
             
What God does is outrageously good and if you're wondering
'What's so good about God?'  Read!   ~ Lydia

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Ama Ackon June 21 2:25am Ghana, Africa 

Hi! You don't know me but I've read your stories on your page and pretty much think I know you. Actually it's been a great source of inspiration to me in some really difficult times.     
God bless you,   Ama 

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Writing now:
The Great 
Father Daughter
  ROADTRIP

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Change what you see,
          Change Whose you are

"I’ll show up and take care of you just as I promised and I will bring you back Home. I know what I’m doing. I have it all planned out—plans to take care of you, not abandon you, plans to give you the great future you hope for."  Jeremiah 29:11 
YOUR LIFE IS PREPARATION FOR YOUR PURPOSE 
                               GREATNESS!

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      WARNING!
Do NOT read here looking for magic prayers and saints.  Not here, not at all.  You'll see God showing up and doing crazy wild things no one expected.

I
f the word "God" makes you cringe and you hate people talking about it, so did I.

But He kept showing up and showing up until I saw Him.  I fell in love with Him and so will you.

If you're not looking for God and highly doubt He's looking for you, He is,

And He's smiling. 
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                      Choice

 

In the powerful, loving little body of believers of Home Mission Chapel, one of my dearest friends was Dorothy Thornton.

Dorothy beamed. Her age was a mystery, her smile looked like your favorite Halloween   pumpkin cutout, her little body shaped in complimentary form.  I don’t know anything about her background.  I do know that precious Pastor Finn picked her up every Sunday and brought her to worship.

It was a simple church, it was an authentic congregation that gathered in nothing more than an old house on the road.

Dorothy sat in one of the straight back chairs along the back wall, closest to the entryway.  From here she could welcome everyone as they arrived and she always welcomed me.  Her warmth and genuine excitement at seeing me was a great healing. 

She would enter into praise and worship and soon after Papa Finn began to preach, we’d all hear the most amazing snoring!  Papa Finn was a large, loud Texas boy and he preached large and loud, too, but couldn’t drown out Dorothy, fast asleep. 

I adored her!      

Chloe arrived, and Dorothy blessed my baby, too.  Come Christmastime, Dorothy, out of her poverty, had made needlepoint gifts for Chloe.  Yes, I adored her.  I still have the Christmas ornaments Dorothy made.

One day I got a strange phone call:  “You don’t know us, but we found your telephone number in our mother’s purse.  Our mother is Dorothy Thornton, she’s in a coma in the hospital, can you come pray for her?”

Oh, absolutely yes, I did.

Walking into the hospital room, I met two women and a version of Dorothy I had never seen before.  She was lifeless, her beaming had left her, there wasn’t much left of her at all.

I held Dorothy’s hand and began to pray and as I prayed, Dorothy went Home.

I don’t recall much of the conversation or activity afterwards, and I left the two women with Dorothy who had already left.

A few days later was a special day celebrating Pastor Winnie Mae’s birthday.  The Full Gospel Business Men’s Association had arranged dinner at a local steakhouse.  Well, Baby and I couldn’t miss showing up with a gift, and we couldn’t afford to sit down and eat.  So we paid our respects and excused ourselves.  Everybody loved Winnie Mae!

Walking back to the car in the night, we passed someone digging through the garbage while picking their nose.  It was one of those pebble and cement garbage fixtures, they leaned their black bike against it while they dug around.  They were clothed entirely in black, and even though it was a very dark night, they wore the blackest sunglasses.  They wore headphones and I could hear the music on way too loud.

We hurried past.

Then we turned around and walked back and I placed my hand on their forearm.  When the earphones came off, “God sent me back to tell you, He loves you.” 

The face looking up from the garbage can was a woman.  A large woman, not very old.  She wore a cap, she didn’t take off her sunglasses, and I guess I must have given her my telephone number because she called me the next day.

Her name is Stacie. 

She rambled, Stacie rambled on and on.  She had been estranged from her family for about three years.  She had travelled to the East coast.  She missed her mom.  She knew that her mom had gotten sick, but she didn’t come back to see her.  It was too late.  Her mom died.

We had this phone conversation more than once, she had been gone for over three years and now it was too late.

For some unknown reason, I finally asked “What was your mother’s name?”

“Dorothy Thornton.”

“What?” I thought, but I said nothing.  Too creepy, something doesn’t add up.  Then I asked “When did your mother die?”

“About three weeks ago.”

“Weeks? I thought it was three years ago.”

“Weeks!” Stacie responded angrily, as though I hadn’t been paying attention. 

Yes, I had spent hours listening to repeated meanderings and grief and remorse and I had paid attention.  And I had gently insisted how much Jesus loves her.

This was Dorothy Thornton’s daughter, Stacie Thornton.

Who in the world is this girl, Dorothy Thornton’s daughter, and what in the world is she doing going through garbage at night?

I told Stacie that I knew her momma, that I knew where her momma is now, and how much Dorothy loves her daughter.  Stacie cried.

I invited Stacie to come to my house and pray, I gave her the address, and she said she knew where I lived.  Fine.  She was on her bike and on her way.

And Stacie never showed up.

I thought it might be helpful if I checked Stacie out, maybe just a little bit.  I called Homicide Detective Byrd and ran the name past him.  Oh, he knew her well, he knew her entire family.

“Her family tree has only one branch.”  I didn’t know what he meant.  No idea.  So he laughed and explained it to me. 

Evidently, Stacie was one of eight children, and the only girl.  Detective Byrd said she’d been molested by her brothers all her life.  Just repeating this makes me ill and sad.  Byrd said that all of the family wasn’t all there, and I got the impression he had crossed them off his list. 

Make no mistake, Detective Byrd is a very caring guy.  But we humans have our limits, “there’s only so much we can do for so many people in need”.

God doesn’t have any limits.   He cares.   He will never change.  “Even when we are faithless, He is faithful, for He cannot deny or change who He is.”  And

“God is love.”

So although Stacie was deemed hopeless and worthless, I was always glad when she called me again.  I never said “Why didn’t you show up?”  I always invited her to come.  Now.

One afternoon of many many phone calls, and many “I’m on my way”s, and “I’m almost there”s, the sun went down and a night had come.  Stacie called me in frustration.

“I’m here!  I’ve been  trying to get to you and I can’t get through them!”

“Stacie, who?”

“They’re standing all around your house and they won’t let me through!  They’re huge, they’re huge men in bright light, they're dressed in white and have purple sashes and they have flaming swords of fire and they will not let me pass! Their swords are really big.  They're about 14 feet tall!”

So now what do you say?  I went back to praying in The Spirit and there came a knock on the side porch door.  And in came Stacie.

Yes, she was dressed in all black again and still wearing those overblack sunglasses.

But this time she came in.

My favorite place to meet was in the breakfast nook at the formica table.  Stacie and I spent a long time there in conversation.  We held hands.  Her hands were so big, so calloused and hard, and so dirty.  She knew Jesus loves her.  She knew she needed saving, she knew Jesus was The Savior.  She knew it was time to make a decision, The Door was open to her.  And she said:

“I want to accept Jesus, I want to pray now.  But I can’t, because if I do, I have to give up my friends.  They’re my only friends and I’ve talked to them all my life.  And if Jesus comes in, I have to let them go.”   Without emotion or fanfare, Stacie left back into that dark night, into those dark places which were familiar and comfortable.

I never saw or heard from Stacie again.  But!

I am confident in The Lord who answers a mother’s prayers.  I am confident that He who began a good work in Stacie will get it done.   I am confident in Him.

“Yes, but we all have free will, we all make our own choices!” says you.

Really? 

Go ask Jonah.

God is just that good and He does all that He wills.  He is love, and He does good.

Never stop, never give up, because God.


     "I know the plans I have"Jeremiah 29:11




"  . . . sentenced to 99 years in prison in 2005 for injecting Margaret Bradley with an overdose of insulin. 'She had no mercy, she's one of the worst.' "
"They've tracked a drug-trafficking conspiracy that stretched from Canada to the East Coast to Oregon
"You guys all think we’re in terror."

               READ NOW




Matthew was on the bedroom floor,

a spoon with something burnt in it, some matches, the needle still in his arm. 
The policeman stayed awhile and called the coroner  . .    never again say tomorrow . . .                                         READ NOW



Darrell opened Enfield's door then
slammed it shut “He’s dead, shut it up.
No use going in. Call the police and let them clean it up. That’s what they get paid for".. . . I remember the stench, that ominous dark oval surrounding the body and how much I wanted to scream and run.

WHAT DID YOU ASK ME FOR? 

He’s alive,” the medic screamed, his face was frozen but the rest of him was moving incredibly fast . . .             READ                        READ NOW



"My son's going on trial for murder
in  LA next week, will you go with me?"

After three long days in court it was finally time to sleep in ~ until 4:31AM and suddenly we were flying up in the air.

A THOUSAND MAY FALL AT YOUR SIDE   We hit the floor hard and then TEN THOUSAND AT YOUR RIGHT HAND everything contorted NO HARM WILL BEFALL YOU as the earth screamed.  Freeways fell down, buildings fell down, we fell down and the sounds of terror from deep inside the earth never stopped, the Northridge earthquake. . .

I HAVE GIVEN MY ANGELS CHARGE OVER YOU

If I tried to make this stuff up, I couldn't.  “Sis, quick, get under the table! NOW.”     READ NOW


                                          READ NOW

LOVE'S STORIES

“Father, we need a miracle.   Please make a way to take Thanksgiving dinner to the guys at  El Cap."

"And pizza. I want pizza, too. Amen,"  Chloe.  

....As Susan wrote out her check for $134.00 (that's a lotta turkey) she rushed on "Hey, I'm starved!   Let's go out for pizza, my treat. "  

Chloe grabbed Susan’s hand and headed out the door.  She knew Him!


                                           READ NOW