You Have a Notification

I am not an early riser. I stay up late, do my best thinking, writing, creating at the latest part of the night, just before midnight and sometime after. It is where I feel alive and safe and free. It is the time when the weight of the world finally falls off my shoulders and I can breathe. It has been this way since I was in high school. Thirty years of flying by the seat of my pants, late night, last minute spontaneity.

Recently, my way of life was challenged. It was called immature and irresponsible. This way of life I had lived with my God and my family was called dishonoring and undisciplined and uncommitted. It shook me to the core. Not because any of it was true, because it wasn’t. In fact, it was so untrue that I found myself trying to defend my beautiful way of life to someone I barely knew. Still my heart was shaken. I asked the Lord, why? Why was I feeling the need to pull my flesh sword out again to defend my spiritual way of life? It has long been sheathed, secured on my side, for use only in emergency against the enemy.

My heart was vulnerable and my spirit was agitated. So I pressed. I pressed into the spaces we dare not go. Those deep dark crevices of our being that has so valiantly hidden the ugly things away. Those woundings that we keep going back to that we just have not quite healed from. Those areas that only God himself sees and loves us anyway.

I hate being challenged. Not because I won’t take that challenge, but because I will. I will take any challenge, even ones I should not take to prove that I am strong, I am courageous, and I am an overcomer. I will vehemently do whatever it takes to win. It is a great character trait, but not without serious weaknesses.

So I pressed in.

7am God woke me up.

“What God? I am so tired. Do I need to pray for someone, did someone message me in crisis?”

“Get up.” I hear Him say.

My mind went right to, ‘I know God did not just ask me to get up at 7am, when he knows that I am a night owl.’

“Hey,” He nudged my spirit, “Get up, get up” His voice sounded playful.

I opened my eyes and said, “I am up.”

I started to pray and asked God what He required of me.

“Get up, get out of bed, make some coffee, sit on the couch and hang out with me.”

Now, if you don’t know me, you won’t know that God and I have a very personal and friendship relationship. I joke with God, and He jokes back. I argue with God and He argues back. I question God and He answers me.

So I respond with, “It’s the crack of dawn. I hang out with you all day. Why do you want me up this early?”

“You are taking that challenge sweet girl. You are getting up early, every day at the same time to spend time with me.”

So I proceeded to argue my point. That is so religious and scheduled and ridiculous to have a set time to spend time with Him. I felt like I was getting punished and forced to spend time with God at an appointed time. Like, I don’t need an “appointed time” because I spend all my time with God, in the morning, in the shower, brushing my teeth, drinking coffee, on the drive to work, at work, at lunch on the drive home, with my family, before I fall asleep.

Of course He laughed at the notion that I was getting punished. Because I wasn’t, but it made no sense to me. I built my entire life around the notion that my God was omnipresent, omniscient and omnipotent. That I could reach Him, talk to Him, worship Him at anytime, anywhere and He would be present in an instant. So a set “appointed time” seems opposite of who my God is.

It was probably 7:35am by the time I rolled out of bed. I made coffee, which I never do, because that is my husband’s job, sat down and said, “Okay God, here I am.”

Of course He delivered. He shared all kinds of things with me, prophetic insight, visions, dreams, hopes, and areas that I needed to grow in. Deep intimate secret things, between He and I that shape me to be more like Him.

7am

“Get up, get up!”

Ugh… trying to find the strength and energy to get out of bed when I went to sleep at midnight.

The next day, then the next.

For two weeks I have been trying to get out of bed and get up with God. But now I don’t hear His jolly voice telling me to get up. I hear him like a Facebook notification that goes off on my phone. You know the ones that vibrate and make us jump. When we get a notification, we immediately check our phones to see who tagged us, liked or post or commented. Yet when God sends us a notification, we are not so quick to jump and check what He posted on our heart.

I love that God is not a punishing God. It’s still hard for me to get that mindset out of my bones, as this is how I was raised in the church. He is a loving, kind and merciful God. I love how He literally has my phone go off at 7am every morning with some sort of text or notification that wakes me up. It’s actually hysterical. I told God that I need sleep and that I don’t get enough. And He lovingly told me that He would multiply whatever sleep I got, so it would actually be more than if I slept in.

So…

7am, I wake up. It still takes me anywhere from 10-15 minutes to actually get out of bed. But I am up, spending an “appointed time” with God. Honestly, I am not really sure what I am supposed to do. I read, I pray, I worship, I write. I haven’t jumped on the whole read this and this passage every day for a year thing yet. And am not even sure if that is what God is requiring. I realize that even though I thought this was a discipline God wanted me to grow in, as I was challenged in that area of my life, it is not.

In reality, God is teaching me obedience on a whole other level. But I love it. I love that He trusts me with things that matter to Him. I love that He thinks I am able. Well sort of… LOL. I am, but with a slow pace. I am learning to hear the God Notifications that go off inside of me on a whole new level, in an entirely new way that I have never experienced before. I love that He is teaching me new things. It is helping me to take that next step into the dreams and visions He has placed in my heart when I was a teenager and even now.

Ask God to turn up the notifications in your heart, so when they go off, you jump and immediately see what it is God is saying.

Cyber Coffee, God, Star Wars

I got up to spend time with God this morning and have "Cyber Coffee" with my friend Ally via Marco Polo.

I am still tired, processing what God wanted me to embrace this morning to share.

As I was talking with her, I noticed in the background the tree, not decorated, on one side of my head... And the pile of fall decorations, needing to be put away on the other side of my head. In my hand, the Star Wars "Darth Vader" mug.

I usually don't pay attention to things like this, but God highlighted the scene. I took a picture in all my "just got out of bed" BEAUTY! 😂😂😂

The Lord showed me why he highlighted this scene:

You are "in between" seasons He said. Not fully immersed in one and not fully out of the other. You are about to be fully immersed in this next season... Get ready!

I was processing this concept. When the seasons change, my decorations in my house change. It is a process. I have to get the fall boxes out and put the fall stuff away... Then I have to get the Christmas boxes out and start to organize what I am going to use and what is going to stay in the boxes.

It is the same with us... There is a process and it takes time to pack one season up and fully embrace the next season. And everything changes. Not just the decorations. What we eat, how we dress, what we do ( based on the weather) how we celebrate...

I was wondering if the Vader mug represented anything or if I was reaching... But God told me that in the middle of all of it, was this thing that has always been constant in my life, shaping me... Star Wars.

It may seem weird, but we all have some kind of outside influence that God uses to help shape us... Sports, jobs, ministry, hobbies, fandom... Whatever.

Star Wars represented this constant state of change (all these movies, books, seriers, theme park) yet the same story, the same characters, the same outcome.

God was reminding me that He is constant in the changing of seasons. But He has the same story, the same characters, the same outcome. How the story impacts our lives, will be different and individual to each of us.

I saw the original Star Wars with my parents in 1977. I have a 1978 star wars calendar that has the words "Teresa's"s 4th" written in my mom's handwriting on July 23rd. Its been a part of my life story since I was 3 years old. The way it impacted me and my family is such sweetness...

But for someone else it may have impacted them differently!

Today I want to encourage you not to rush the change of seasons, rather enjoy the process of transition. Sit back, drink your coffee in your raw state of being and delight in the constant presence of our loving father, no matter what season or transition of season you are in!

CANCER again

The storm rages outside, thunder and lightning shake and flash the 6 windows I look through, as I sit on the couch in my sister’s house. Over 2,000 miles away from home, on the other side of the country, I watch as the storm thrashes around me. It is comforting and foreign. Living in drought ridden California for the past 6 years has made this encounter sweet and worthy.

The house is quiet and calm. Children are in bed sleeping, my sister and her husband and away on an island, capturing the passion of their love for one another. This trip was planned a while ago. I would come for a week and spend time with my nieces and nephew, while they were on vacation, then I would go back home.

This trip, however, it longer. I am staying another week.

Three months earlier:

The long two hour drive from Fresno to Bakersfield for work is a welcome treat for me to encounter my God. I worship and pray and have long conversations about our calling, where we are going, how He wants us to partner with him. Weddings and pregnancies and school and jobs all swarm around my head, trying to process and plan the next 6 months of the hustle and bustle of my life.

The oil fields turn into orchards and vineyards and many miles of land, filled with agriculture fill my view. My phone rings and it is my sister. She is young, vibrant and beautiful. A mom who has spent most of her adult life homeschooling children and pursuing a healthy lifestyle of clean eating and cross fit. Her heart longs to be valued and her mind fights to stay focused on all that is pure and holy, in the midst of healing.

Her voice is quiet and calm as she recaps her medical history to me. A long arduous encounter with many months of intense pain and bleeding. She has seen many doctors and had some procedures down to aid her body to stop, but it persists. Then, as if all of life stood still and I could see the wings of the flies flying in the air in slow motion, she said the word.

The word that is like acid to the soul. The word that is filled with filth and devastation. That word. The word I have heard too many times from too many people I love in my family…

CANCER

I don’t say a word, at first. I don’t know what to say really. Then as if a volcano of rage rose up in me I began to get angry. I started to pray over my sister and declare life and truth and God’s promises. I prayed against every generational curse and agreement and cursed cancer and commanded it to die. I couldn’t even shed a tear. I was not going to give cancer that place.

I spoke directly to the cancer and told it to go to the pit of hell where it belongs. I battled and fought in my soul and told my sister I would stand and fight for her. She giggled and said that her best friend did the same. Got angry and said, oh NO… not today.

My trip was extended and she planned her surgery the week after she got back from her vacation from her husband, so I could be here.

Yet I feel so overwhelmed. The battle is great. I asked the LORD if I could carry her burden and the emotional intensity of how cancer wrecks the mind with fear and anxiety, is so wicked and demonic that rest is fleeting.

TODAY:

the storm has passed. My sister successfully went through all her pre op surgeries. The cancer did not spread and surgery is in two days. The weight of this wickedness is so heavy that I am overcome with exhaustion and fall asleep at 6:30 pm. When I wake 4 hours later, the house is quiet and calm, everyone is in bed asleep.

CANCER again, but NOT ANYMORE. That’s it, you’re done!!! You cannot and will not find your way in my family anymore… My mom, grandma, dad, cousin and now sister… NO… You are done. No more.

The storm is gone and the sun shined its rays into the window today… it reminded me of the story her husband told me as he wrestled with the word… on his wife

He was having a tough time at work… nothing was working our right, frustration and heaviness weighed on him, as he wanted to be home and not where he was. At the end of the day, he was driving back to his air B&B to get some much needed rest, but there is a dark, fierce black cloud heading straight towards him. He had to drive through the storm. He had to drive in right through the middle of it. And he did. He pulled into a restaurant to eat, just as the storm finally passed. He sat down and looked out the window and there he saw a big bright beautiful rainbow. The reflection of the sun on the water that had just poured down.

It was a beautiful picture of their place. Go through the storm, rest, and remember God’s promise. It was then, when he told me that I knew my sister would be free of this wicked word that attacks. It was then that I was confident it would no longer be able to make its way in our family

And like the drought ridden California, that has persisted for years… so will cancer be in the many many generations to come… in a drought, with no life and place to grow.

Overwhelmed by His presence

Overwhelmed

Overwhelmed by the presence of God.

I cannot even begin to express the emotions that have overtaken my soul….

It was almost 11:30pm on a cold winter’s night. I was at a stop sign and a man with a stroller packed with items was crossing in front of me. My heart ached for him, it was cold and the Fresno fog was rolling in, causing the air to be wet and miserable for anyone without shelter. I pulled out and turned left and turned to me daughter and said, “My heart breaks for him.” I have a general sense of empathy for those who are in need and try my best to help in any way I can. I spoke out loud and said, “Lord, I don’t know what to do in these kind of situations, I want to help, but don’t know what to do.” This is something I say on a regular basis, as a resident of Fresno County. Homelessness is all around in abundance and I feel overwhelmed by the need that exists.

Overwhelmed.

I am a good Christian. I fight daily for righteousness, I follow God’s commandments the best I can. I obey God when I hear him speak and I stand for truth, love and grace in a broken world. I have been helping homeless people for years. I have had some amazing encounters with people who live outside the walls of our society, on the fringes of community life and have felt extremely blessed.

Tonight as I saw this man walking in the 40 degree temperature, I felt compelled to help, to do something. It is my duty, my responsibility to help the poor. It is in the Bible. It is what we should all be doing to some extent. So I asked the LORD, something or some way, perhaps I have never asked before. “LORD, what do YOU want me to do for this man?” It seems to me that I have asked this questions before, but something shifted in the spirit and in my being.

I heard the LORD immediately say, “Buy him coffee.” So we drove 100 feet to the gas station and walked into the store to get coffee. There was a rack of hats and gloves and the LORD said, “Get him a hat and gloves.” So we looked at the rack and saw some beanies and fur hats. The LORD said, “Get him the best! The fur lined hat, the double lined gloves.” So I did. My daughter filled up the large coffee and we grabbed some cream and sugar. We got into our car and drove to meet him on the street. I pulled over on the side of the rode, right in front of him and got out of the car. I could tell he was apprehensive at our arrival, so I spoke gently and clearly, “Hi, it’s really cold out here tonight, so we wanted to make sure you were warm. We got you some coffee and some gloves and a warm fuzzy hat.”

This gentle older man was so gracious and kind. “Thank you,” he said. “I am lost I think, I have been walking around for hours and don’t know where I am.” I was putting helping him put the gloves on his hands. His hand were numb from the cold and stiff. I was having a hard time putting the double line gloves on each finger, as he was not able to really move them. My daughter asked him if he liked cream and sugar in his coffee and he gently responded, “Oh yes, I would love some, thank you.” I finally was able to get one glove on and then put the fur hat on his head. It was black and red buffalo check with a brown and gray fur along the sides that covered his ears and dawned his forehead.

His countenance changed and a soft glow began to adorn his face. “Does that feel snug?” I asked. His smiled and responded, “Yes, it fits perfect.” My daughter and I were shivering from the cold. We had jumped out of our heated car and didn’t think about putting on a jacket. As I was trying to put the other glove on his left hand, he noticed we were shivering. “Are you cold?” he asked. “Yes, I said, but we will be okay, let me just help you get this other glove on. “Here you can have my jacket, to keep you warm,” he offered. My daughter looked at me in disbelief and I was wrecked. My heart was struck with this overwhelming emotion that I have yet to unpack. “No, no, I am good,” my daughter replied, “I have a sweater in the car. I had no words really. Just this encounter with humanity that broke me in suck a way that the repercussions of it moved me for hours. His jacket was unzipped and so I asked him if he would like me to zip it for him. “Oh yes, thank you,” he said, “You are spoiling me.” The sincerity in his voice was so transparent and authentic that again, I was struck by this emotion that I cannot describe. I began to zip up his jacket. I told him to wait a minute that I was going to get something out of my car. I looked into my Yukon and saw three warm items.

Before we left to go to Sonora today I grabbed a black zip up sweat shirt. I was getting ready to leave and went back into the closet and took out another jacket, a fleece one, just in case is was really cold when we got there. Then as I was loading the warm items into the back seat of my car, I saw another sweatshirt in my other car and took it out and put it into the back seat of my Yukon. It was one of those moments that made no sense at all in real time, but made perfect sense in my mind.

I took the black half zip sweatshirt and brought it to him. “Is it ok if I take off your jacket, so we can get this sweatshirt underneath to give you some extra warmth?” “Yes, of course, that would be great!” he said. So I helped him take the green jacket off, so we could give him some layers. As I took the green jacket off, it was pretty wet, both inside and outside. My heart was burdened with the reality that this man was walking in this cold with a wet jacket on, no gloves, and no hat and was completely lost. My daughter heard the LORD tell her that he was dehydrated, so acted quickly and got some water we had in the car, “Here you go, would you like some water?” she asked. “Oh yes, thank you,” he said. He could not get the cap off with his gloves, so we removed the cap and he drank the entire bottle as if he had not had water for a long time. I helped him put on the black sweatshirt, my daughter handed him the warm coffee and I told him that the jacket was not good to put back on.

I went into the car and saw the purple fleece jacket. The one my mother-in-law got me for Christmas to wear to my son’s high school football games in the winter. I loved that jacket. It had a zipper that went all the way under my chin and pockets inside and out. The outside pockets zipped up so that you could store gloves or items that would not fall out. Tonight, as the temperature continued to drop and the smoke raised from my lips due to the cold, I felt the presence of God so strong, it was as if HE was standing right next to me. I could see Him smile at me and say, “Yes daughter, give this man this beloved jacket. You are blessing him with my love and I want him to have the best.” I did not grieve or second guess this gesture, like I would usually do. Rather, I got excited to partner with my God in showing His love. I got the jacket and began to put it on him.

As I helped this beautiful soul put the purple jacket on his cold body, he beamed some more. It is purple… purple like royalty. This older homeless gently soul was my God’s son, his beloved creation that was alone, cold and lost. I noticed that jacket had elastic on the end of the sleeves and told him that it would keep the gloves on the cold out. We got some money and put it in the jacket pocket and showed him that it zipped up, so he would have to worry about it falling out or getting lost. I zipped up the jacket all the way to under his chin. He was covered and warm. His gray beard gleamed as the street lights bounced off the dew in the air.

“Are you hungry?” I asked.

“Yes, but you have already done too much for me. I will be ok.”

God said… my God said to my heart with power and love. “I have more for you to do for him, so he knows I see him.”

“I have not done too much, I have hardly done anything, and wish I could do more. This is God showing you that he loves you and has not forgot you. We are going to drive to the gas station and get you some warm food. Do you want to meet us there?”

At this point my heart was overflowing with emotion. I did not feel sorry for this man or pity him. I did not feel obligated to help him out of Christian duty or obedience. Instead, I was experiencing the heart of my Savior. I was partaking in His love for us. Words do not adequately describe this encounter. He said, “I am lost. I am try to get to Vartikian Street. Do you know where it is?” It sounded familiar to me but I wasn’t entirely sure. I told him I would get my phone and google map it. The street was about a mile and a half away. I showed him on the map, but he still seemed confused. So we wrote it down on a piece of paper for him.

I gave him a hug and said, could you meet us at the gas station?

He said, “Yes, of course.”

Then we got in our car, made a U-turn on Polk to go the gas station. The gas station had no warm food. So we walked out to meet him and tell him. The LORD said, “You have a car, go to the 7-11 at the next street.” I greeted him, “What is your name friend?”

“Tom, my name is Tom.” He replied. I shared with him that we were going to go to 7-11 and get some warm food for him. We agreed that he would walk down Polk towards Vartikian to stay warm and get there as soon as he could. So we parted ways and went to 7-11. There we got some warm food, a wrapped muffin for later, a banana, and my daughter grabbed a gallon size water jug. She saw these warm fuzzy sweater socks for Tom as well. We got back into the car and drove to find Tom, on his way to Vartikian. We saw him on Polk sitting down. We flipped a U-turn and parked next to him.

“Hey Tom, here is some warm food and a muffin for later. Also we wrote our phone number down, so you know how to reach us. I am going to drive to be sure you are going the right way, so you don’t get lost.” I shared with him.

He smiled and said, “I feel like a little kid, and you guys came to save me.” I did not want to be his Savior and I did not want him to feel like we were doing this out of pity, but rather love. “No, we are not here to save you, we are just here to love you, and to show you that you are valuable.” I responded raw and wrecked by the presence of God. I was curious to know what was at Vartikian Street. So I asked him, “Are you staying with someone who lives on Vartikian?”

He responded, “Yes, there is someone who lets me stay in their den. I used to own my own company and have had a series of unfortunate events. I am a 60 year old man who just wants a job and a place to live. I don’t want to be a burden on people or ask for handouts.”

Here was this beautiful soul standing before me, full of life and joy and positive and kind. The moon was bright and the new day was upon us, midnight. Tears welled up in my eyes and spilled over. I saw him. Not his age, or status, or race or misfortune. I saw HIM… the intensely stunning SOUL of this human, and it was breathtaking. It was true and genuine and vulnerable. Tom’s soul was full of life and hope and love, even though his flesh was cold and wet and tired and hungry. This man who offered his only jacket to my shivering daughter, not knowing she had a sweater inside the car. This man who beamed hope in the midst of dire circumstances. This man whose only wish was to have a job and a place to live.

My daughter and I told him that we would love for him to stay in touch with us. That we would do our best to help in any way we could. I told him that we would love to have him over for Christmas and if he had no place to go, we would love to have him. “Really you would have me over for Christmas, wow, that’s incredible…. I will, I will keep in touch and call you.” He graciously responded.

We said our goodbyes as he was nearing Vartikian Street and told him that he had blessed us. His face again glowed and he said, “Thank you and God Bless You.”

Overwhelmed.

I drove away and began to weep. Not because I was sad for him or felt sorry for him… but because I had caught a glimpse of the deep AGAPE LOVE of my God. I had tasted just a sliver of this amazing grace Jesus gave us when HE left the perfection of eternity to empathize with his creation. Something in me broke… tears were overwhelming my face and I could not formulate words to articulate the encounter. Even now as I record this event with the written word, I am spilling over like a spring of water that just broke through the hard dry earth to give life to its surrounding.

Overwhelmed.

I saw the religious spirit writhe in pain as I partnered with my God to show His love to a son, an heir of the kingdom of heaven. I feel freedom in the tears, as if something that was a burden suddenly was lifted. Our purpose on this earth is to LOVE… PERIOD. To love in such a way, that it cannot come from our own good deeds, but from a depth that can only be found in walking with the King of Kings and LORD of lords. May we, God’s people not get caught up in good deeds, but rather be overwhelmed by God’s purpose for this world.

“Those who twist their mustache are easy to spot; but those who clothe themselves in good deeds are well camouflaged.” –Captain Picard, Star Trek, Next Generation

Sleepless nights

My life has been consumed with sleepless nights.

Spiritual Warfare, meeting satan’s minions head on, as a child, in the dark, at night.

I have fought for years, trying to find the perfect rest of God’s peace. I still fight, as I write this at 3am, struggling to sleep. My mind wanders into places of hope and love, trying to find the peace, but I am awake with a vengeance, my body aches with restless motion.

Terror struck me in the dark, and I fought. Alone and wondering how to escape the realities of the nightmares, awake… in an unaided battlefield, no one taught me how to overcome.

Then I grew up, became a woman, a wife and a mother… and the sleepless nights persisted with a fiery, as I refused to allow my children to fight the same cold battle alone. So I walked the night in my home, praying and wrestling with the fear and anxiety the followed since childhood.

Still, more terror… 3:30 visitations from workers of darkness surround my home and I stay awake to battle. Not knowing the perfect rest that come from peace in my God, because I did not fully trust Him. I lay in bed, jumping at every sound and creak, every whimper my children made in the restful slumber. I suffer silently in the dark, fighting for peace.

The weight presses in and depression finds its way, but still I fight. I will not give into the terror, the fear of the unknown. Then my grandma and mom die in the same year and sorrow overshadows all of the joys and fears I possess. Not long after my father dies and sorrow looms a little longer. My exhausted body carrying the evidence of sleepless nights in physical weight, I struggle to lose. And then I break. My entire existence falls to the ground, like a tree struck by lightning, and a monstrous thud reverberates through my life.

I am a stump, a heap of broken flesh, on the ground, at the bottom. Nowhere to go, no more fight in me. I am shattered and torn from the life giving roots that sustain me. I cannot function and my life is consumed with sleep. I can barely move, my body is drained from life and all I can do is sleep to escape the pain of a childhood that stole my rest, in a place where I was not safe.

But the stump was not dead and in my rest, new life began to grow. New hope began to show and sprouts of joy overtook the stump until it was covered in growth. I was born again, into a place of healing and peace that I had never experienced before. I delighted in the reality that I could sleep, through the night, rest.

It was a time of bliss and wonder as fear no longer inhabited my life and anxiety fled from my atmosphere. But like most things in life, it was a season. A season I am afraid has ended, as my sleepless night persist again.

But all hope is not lost. In my sleepless phenomenon, I still have peace. I still experience rest. It is not that which my physical body benefits from, but my soul and spirit are at peace. I am finding a new understanding and definition of rest in these “new growth” sleepless nights. I find they are consumed with prayer, study, research, dreaming, hope and worship. Even on this sleepless night, I sit her, in the mountains, surrounded by God’s handiwork, listening to Julie True’s Healing Soaking music and reading Psalm 139…. And I am embracing rest. I resist the temptation to force myself to sleep and get up to find the rest. I am making every effort to enter into rest, Hebrews 4, so that I can experience the fullness of God’s glory.

So… I sit back, drink my Sleepytime Tea, and try to find the rest in the midst of my sleepless night. Knowing that there is purpose in it, knowing that “the darkness shall not hide from Him, that the night shines as the day; because the darkness and light are both alike to YOU,” Oh God. 

DANCING IN COLOR

I am watching Dancing with Wolves and am amazed at the repetitive content of history. 

 Two different races, two different worlds, two different languages, cultures, way of thinking.

They were divided by FEAR.

Fear of the unknown.

Fear of different.

Fear of rejection.

Fear of losing one’s culture.

FEAR.

Today, it is no different.

We are faced with many different races in one country, trying to co-exist in a world that perpetuates HATE and FEAR.

My heart grieves at the notion that WE as a nation, a people have lost the FREEDOM to CELEBRATE and to LEARN the differences of other cultures.

I was told by someone, who is not my same race that I do not have a “right” to understand or learn about her culture. That celebrating and understanding that culture is somehow “racist.”

I was told that when I identify certain foods with a culture that I am “racial stereotyping.”

I am not learning a culture or celebrating the uniqueness of that culture… I am being “racist.”

There is so much FEAR in the hearts of people, that we, as a people, cannot even enjoy the diversity and beauty and rich color of humanity that God created for us to be a part of.

In all areas, both sides, no matter how people spin it, or how history records it… Murder, death and war is all because of FEAR…. And the side with the most power, money, man power, and weapons wins… It has nothing to do with a color or race or culture. Rather it has to do with power.

We adopted a young boy from Rwanda when I was 12. He was exactly my age. My parents gave monthly to Compassion, so that he could go to school. The supported him until he was 21. They continued to keep in contact with him, even after our time of support was up. There was a war: tribe against tribe, black skin against black skin; rapes, murders, death, horror. It had nothing to do with color, race or culture… they were from the same place. It had to do with power, fear, and anger.

Justin, as we called him, lost his dad and 8 of his 13 brothers and sisters. He survived. He saw death on a level, I hope I never know. It had nothing to do with the color of his skin, but rather the HATE of one group of people towards another, of the same race and place.

HATRED AND FEAR KILLED 1,000,000 PEOPLE

That is what happened in our country with the Native Americans. They were afraid of the "white people" and they were afraid of the "natives." In that fear, we coin terms and propaganda to fuel that fear, which then turns to anger. On both sides there was murder of the other, in order to protect a mindset that hindered growth, friendship and community.

The soldier was named “Dances with Wolves” and he wanted to learn about this other race and culture. He took a risk, he went into the “enemy’s camp.” The Native American they called “Kicking Bird” wanted to learn about this other race and culture. He too took a risk and went into the “enemy’s camp.” Both were able to learn and grow and establish a friendship of trust and honor.

They valued each other and learned each other’s cultures, and CELEBRATED it. They did not condemn or steer away from the other. In fact, Dances with Wolves left some of his culture behind to become a part of his new friend’s way of life. He partook in the difference, he learned a new way, and he celebrated and mourned the loss with them.  It was a beautiful dance of give and take and celebrating the VALUE of HUMANITY.

It was what he called...

Many different kinds of notes blending together to make a beautiful symphony of music, that delights EVERY soul, without any FEAR, just PEACE.

In the end, Dancing with Wolves, learned, understood, partook, celebrated, enjoyed and lived within the culture. He embraced a way of life, different than his own, in the face of much hatred towards the Native Americans, took a risk and became an advocate for them. Kicking Bird, also learned the ways of the white man and trusted him with his family.

They loved him, he loved them....even though they were different.

We are a people, who judge an entire group of people by a small minority of people filled with HATE and turn it into BONDAGE of FEAR and ANGER. 

There is no justice in hurting one group because another group was hurt. 

There is no healing in demonizing one group of people, because of the IGNORANCE and VIOLENCE of another.

There is no HOPE when division is celebrated and no one has freedom to take a RISK in friendship of someone unlike us. 

May we, a people, bound up in FEAR, which leads to prejudice, racism, hate and death… learn how to dance in the harmonic sounds of DIVERSITY and LOVE… in a nation that has NEVER really learned how to DANCE IN COLOR.

Andrew Chiappelli-a legacy of faith, love, truth and talent

Some people come into your life for just a short time, but leave an impression on your life that will leave a legacy for generations to come.

His name is Andrew Chiappelli.

My family met Andrew in 2007. He was a patron of our restaurant and we instantly connected with him. My children worked with us in the restaurant from time to time, and his love for children drew them into a blessed relationship of a man, who became family, a mentor, who always encouraged them in their faith and talents.

 My two boys were really rough and tumbling. Soccer, football, wrestling, trampoline, fort building type boys. Andrew was more of an artist, creative soul, who was full of mercy, peace and stillness. He gave my boys a gift of patiently waiting through the process for a creative masterpiece. They created everything from sculptures to paintings to planting things to decorating my house, including the boys, my daughter and me in the process. Yet, he would still go on the trampoline and jump with the kids, have water fights, build forts and tell these great adventure stories to them that delighted them.

Andrews’s relationship with my daughter was a sweet blessing. They had a special connection, as she is very artistic and creative. They would sing together and dance and do all kinds of fun projects together. He always encouraged her to pray and listen to God. He would do her hair and buy her cute outfits, even though, at the time, was struggling financially. His selfless love, still impacts my daughter today.

Andrew became a dear brother in Christ to my husband and I. Because he was single, he spent many nights at our house for dinner and board games, movies and walks and bike rides. He carved pumpkins with us, helped us decorate our Christmas tree, always helped me clean my house, as running a restaurant and home schooling three children always had me challenged in that department. He taught us about soaking in the LORD through worship and Andrew and our entire family would lie on the floor and “soak” in the words and songs and of God in stillness and peace.

When we were about to close our restaurant, he would work with us doing caterings and events to help us stay afloat and pay bills. Every time we gave him a paycheck, he would not cash it. When we closed the restaurant, he gave us an envelope with all the checks he didn’t cash, to help us pay others. He was there, praying with us and for us when we closed. Crying with us, helping us clean it out and sell the items to pay bills.

My husband became the general manager of Dai Bai Dang in Fresno, and we were able to start recovering from the hit of losing the restaurant. Andrew still spent time with us and ate dinner with us frequently. When that restaurant sold, my husband lost his job. We were about to lose everything we owned, but God gave us a ministry job in another city. We sold most of what we owned and then moved away in 2009.

We would call Andrew from time to time, but space and time got wider and wider. My husband got a General Manager job in Santa Barbara in 2010, so we moved even farther away from Fresno.

We moved to Easton in 2011, my mom was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, so my life became consumed with taking care of her. My grandmother passed away and so did my mom, by the end of that year. In 2012 and 2013, we were trying to re-establish our lives, struggling to find jobs and dealing with grief. We talked about Andrew frequently, wondering where he was, and how he was doing. I put up curtains and matching pillows he gave me in my new home in Easton and always thought about him and prayed for him. My kids missed him too. When they would jump on the trampoline or when they would quote funny things he said or did. “I gots the tegrity” was one of the funny things he said, about having integrity. He said it with a country voice and had us rolling in laughter.

I often looked him up on facebook to see if he had one, so we could reconnect. I found him and friended him but quickly realized he was not a facebooker. My son graduated in 2014 and we became urban missionaries. More years passed and we did not see Andrew.

In April, 2016, my daughter and I were in Fresno doing a fun mama and me day. On the way home I noticed I needed gas, so stopped in Easton to get some, before heading home. My daughter stayed in the car and I went into the building to pay for my gas. As I was walking back to the car, I saw a man pumping gas that looked a lot like Andrew. I thought, Oh my goodness, is that Andrew? I am a very outgoing person, so I had no fear in going up to some random man and tapping him on the shoulder to see if it was Andrew or not. If it wasn’t, I knew I would meet someone new. I walked closer to him and said, “Andrew?” The man turned around and said, “Oh my gosh, Teresa, how are you?”

With that, he, my daughter and I stood in the parking lot for over an hour talking and reconnecting. We told him that we were urban missionaries and invited him to come to our Bible Study, just across the street from the gas station, where we were standing. We told him that the boys would be so excited to see him and that he had to come over for dinner. He shared with us that he was helping to care for a couple in Easton, and that he was getting his master gardeners certificate. We reminisced and laughed and he marveled at how tall Carah was. She is 5’8” and was taller than him. Then he shared this amazing story with my daughter and I about his recent trip to Israel. This, I believe is so beautiful for all who loved Andrew to hear, as it is exactly what he now gets to be in permanently.

Andrew painted a beautiful picture of what he saw:

“The last time I was in Israel, I had the most beautiful encounter. I was visited by an angel every morning in my hotel room at 5am. The angel literally woke me up and told me to expect amazing things. The angel would have conversations with me about my desires and told me what to look for when I was there in Jerusalem.

The day that changed my life was the day we went on a tour to the place of Jacob’s ladder. We got up early and went into an armored vehicle to the spot. We had to travel through an area that is prone to violence and so not very many people take this tour. We drove for hours and slipped through the violent areas, without any issues. We finally came to a place that was in the middle of nowhere. In the distance you could see some mountains and sheep in the valley.

 There was this small stone building that was off to the side. It was very old, but still standing. Then there was this stone foundation in the shape of a circle. We all laid down with our heads on the rocks that lined the foundation. In the distance you could see where Jacob saw the ladder from heaven to earth. The tour guide told us to close our eyes and ask God for a supernatural encounter. So we all did. I am not sure what everyone else there experienced, but here is what happened to me.

I was instantly caught up in the spirit and I saw the angel that had been visiting me every day. He motioned me to follow him to Jacob’s ladder. I saw many angels coming and going up and down the ladder. It looked more like a stair case and on one side there were angels coming down and on the other side. I stated walking towards the ladder and got to the base. Instantly I was at the top of the ladder.

I was in the throne room. It was huge. There were thousands of angels and beings that surrounded the room. It was glorious. In the distance you could see this bright light. It was covered by clouds, but was so brilliant it drew you in. As I was looking at this light, I was instantly transported to the space right below this light. I was standing on a bright, clear sapphire floor. Right in front of me was a clear river. You could see the brilliant blue sapphire on the bottom. On the other side of the river were thousands of people worshipping God, right in front of the throne of God.

 As I was looking at the throne, I was instantly transported to the base of the throne. The throne was huge. I could see God sitting on the throne. His feet were this beautiful golden bronze color, the size of cars. His hands were resting on the throne and had great strength and gentleness in them. His face was the light I had saw earlier, but was covered with clouds. The sound of voices worshipping God was majestic and calm. I took it all in and felt peace and love like I have never known before. I was looking up at his face, covered and clouds and wished I could see His face.

 Instantly I was transported on His lap. I was a child again, and He was holding me close, with my head on his chest. I could hear his heartbeat. I could feel His breath on my head. He pulled me in and I was home. I wanted to stay there forever. I breathed in let out a deep breath, I was full of joy.

Once I breathed out, I was instantly taken back to my body, lying there on the stone foundation. I opened my eyes and tears streamed down my face. I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay there in His presence. It was the most amazing experience of my life. I can’t wait to go there again.”

After he told Carah and I the story, we were mesmerized. We asked him to share his experience with our Bible Study group and he said he would. We exchanged numbers and became friends on facebook and began to plan times where we could be in each other’s lives again. It was beautiful and sweet and we were so delighted that God brought Andrew back into our lives again.

Then, I saw on facebook, that he had been killed in a crash. It seemed like a dream, like it was not real.The first thing I thought about was the vision he had just shared with us not too long before. I couldn’t help but smile. And even though my heart grieves that we only got to spend two years with Andrew and will not get to make more memories with him, that were long overdue, I am delighted to know that he is exactly where he wants to be.

I think of all the dreams Andrew had, that were never fulfilled on this earth; all the hopes he had for building a place for the lost and wayward, having capital to help people succeed, and so much more. I wonder if those dreams were really just shadows that were never meant to come to pass, but only to keep him moving forward on the path he was on for healing, growth, love, service, joy, a full life.

I am sure, if Andrew could attend his own funeral, he would talk about how he wasn’t able to see those dreams come to pass… but in reality, Andrew was a Dream Supporter. He supported so many people in their dreams. He sacrificed his own ambitions and dreams so many times to help other people’s dreams come to pass. In reality, he was a part of many dreams coming to pass.

My husband and sons were so sad to hear of his passing and that they did not get to see him. But his legacy and gift’s that he gave to my children and us are ever present and will now become a part of our own legacy.

We all have a different perspective of our Lord, because of the legacy he left with us. For that we will carry it on to everyone God puts into our lives, to bless, love, encourage and bestow a gift to. Until we see you again friend.