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The Evil In Man

12 Nov

Ram's Head

“The stranger that is within thee shall get up above thee very high; and thou shalt come down very low.”     Deuteronomy 28:43 (KJV)

There is a common saying, “The eyes are the window to the soul,” and it is absolutely true.  A lot can be seen spiritually and emotionally when looking intently into the eyes of another. God gives us glimpses of the depth of a person’s weakness, pain and spirit. Every once in a while God takes us a step past the eyes and He shows us the demons that torment.

I remember, so vividly, the first time I saw the demon that controlled my father.  My grandparents had come to visit and as we children went off toward bed the adults left the house.  Not long after a storm kicked up, a strong desert wind storm.

I was 9 years old; my brother would have been 7, my sister 3, and the baby just a few months old.  When the storm kicked up the electricity went off and all of us kids drew together in the bedroom that I shared with the baby.  My brother and sister huddled against the wall as I rocked the baby in the rocking chair.  Within the howling wind we heard a loud “crack” and a main branch broke off of the tree at the back of the house.  My brother and sister were crying and holding each other as I did my best to quiet the baby.

Just a short time after I heard a tapping on my bedroom window and my name being called, “Linda, Linda, open the door.”  The voice was that of my father, but when I pulled the curtain back what I saw terrified me.  Instead of my father’s face I saw the head of a Ram with glowing red eyes on a very large body of a man.  Its lips were moving as I heard my father’s voice again, angry.  “Linda, open the door.”

I screamed and ran across the room, all 4 of us huddled against the wall crying.  This repeated with my father’s voice becoming more and more agitated.  Then I heard the voice of my grandfather, “Linda, it’s grandpa, we forgot the key, open the front door and let us in.”

I ran to the window and opened the curtain.  There was the face of my grandfather, always kind and gentle.  I laid the baby in his crib and ran to the front door, unlocking it.  In came my family, drenched from the rain.  My father was still very angry that I had delayed, but the creature I had seen in the window was gone.

I don’t know why God shows us the evil inside of others.  I don’t know why we see it at some times and not others.  I don’t know why some people can see the evil and others cannot.  I don’t understand how some people can stand up to evil and quench it with a few spoken words and the voice of authority.  I don’t understand why people are drawn toward evil and wicked ways more than they are drawn to the church and the laws of God, when the true power lies in the authority of scripture and death is in the path of evil.

I really don’t understand it all, but I know it is real; I have seen it myself.  I do understand that we are called to do greater things than Jesus did in His time on earth.  I do understand the authority we are given if we will draw close to God through the power of the Holy Spirit.  I do know that we were given the ability to stand up to the sort of evil that torments a young man to the extent that he would walk into a school and kill 26 people, mostly young children.

Spiritual warfare can turn the evil before the demonic becomes so strong in a person’s life that they no longer hold life precious – their own life or the life of another.  We must fight the Spiritual battle for the souls of the hurting before the soul is eternally lost.

This generation is the generation of Spiritual Warriors.  A Warrior can only fight if they have the tools and they know how to use them.  Jesus commanded us to teach – help me to teach these Warriors who they are and what authority they can possess.  Help me to teach them to fight for the lost soul, the innocent children, and the evil that desires to destroy everything in its path.  Please, help me.

“Blessed be the LORD my strength, which teacheth my hands to war, and my fingers to fight:”   – Psalms 144:1 (KJV)

—–

Written 1-1-2013

Published 11/12/2015 – Republished 7-18-2021

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WAX MUSEUM

7 Oct

wax-museum-welcome-sign1

(THE EYES OF THE HOPELESSLY DEAD)

 The light of the body is the eye: therefore when thine eye is single, thy whole body also is full of light; but when thine eye is evil, thy body also is full of darkness.                                                                                   Luke 11:34

Vacations are interesting entities.  They are times when you spend money you know better than to spend and visit places that you may have only had a vague interest in previously.

In our family, vacations are a valued commodity that arrive only once every 3 – 4 years.  It’s a time when we have saved and set aside so that we can travel off for a day or two and leave everything behind for someone else to care for.  This year was our year of VACATION – August 1999!!

We had been given our hotel room as a gift and part of that gift included tickets to the Movieland Wax Museum.  None of us had ever been to a wax museum – however, none of us had ever really been over-enthusiastic about going either.  But, it was vacation!  A time to see something new!  A time to . . . well, you know.

At first, I was intrigued by the replicas; life-size dolls, the exact size of a famous movie star, wearing the original costume from a movie or an article of clothing from the movie star’s personal wardrobe – or so they claim.

The tour began with the older movies.  What took me by surprise was the size of the stars.  The women were so tiny, petite (to compensate for the 20 extra pounds the camera add, I suspect).  Jean Harlow, Bette Davis, Kathryn Hepburn – all movie greats, up close and personal.

Then there were the men.  Characters that loomed so large on the screen were trim young men, not much taller than myself.  The illusion of grandeur diminished.  The overwhelming feeling of awe was reduced.  They were just people.  People who struggled with self-esteem and the pressures of fame.  People, just like me, who tried to juggle work and family and (prayerfully) devotions.

As I continued the tour I recognized depression setting over me.  Why, Lord?  What are you showing me that I can’t see?

“Look at them,” He said, “carefully.”

I began to look into the faces – past the aging clothing, the dusty sets, the fading make-up, and a few missing fingers.  I stood in one spot and turned a full circle, looking carefully into the eyes of the replicas.

“There’s nothing, Lord, nothing!”

And that was it!  Deep in the eyes was the absence of the soul.  They were exact replicas of the bodies of men – void of love, hate, joy, dreams and visions.  It was a morgue of dead bodies, dressed up to entertain people.

I walked through the “horror” section and felt nothing.  Even with the sound tracks playing in the background of some of the sets, there was nothing.  The eyes were dead and blank.  There were no demons, no tormented souls, no hate, no raging insanity.  They were the eyes of the hopelessly dead.

After leaving the museum I searched the face of every person I saw.  The daily anguish, joy and stresses were there.  It slowly relieved my depression.  It gave me new hope and a fresh battleground.  For in the tormented eyes there is hope for salvation.  In joy there is peace and encouragement for tomorrow.

No matter what the tormented soul is screaming out through the eyes – as long as there is life, there is an opportunity for Jesus to enter in.

Lord, let me always remember that every face I see could belong to a soul of little time.  Give me the courage to change the demons that dance in those eyes, before they become the eyes of the hopelessly dead.

 

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War Room – The Posture of Prayer

6 Oct

Linda's Bible 9-10-15

“Be careful for nothing; but in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God.”   Philippians 4:6 (KJV)

After the release of the Affirm Film, War Room, many people showed where they had created War Rooms in their closets or offices.  That’s wonderful, but many of us don’t have a house big enough for those sorts of areas.  My “War Room” or what I call “War Area” is actually at the kitchen table.  I also have a chalkboard in my bedroom where I have the names of people listed who have requested prayer.  Your War Room could be in your bathroom, bedroom, garage, a park bench, a back yard, in your car, on the bus, on a train, in a plane, it is anyplace that you can get a moment alone with God.  The important thing is that you are taking the names of others to God for their needs.

It doesn’t matter if you are on your knees, on your face, on your feet or sitting in a chair – it isn’t about the position of the body that makes the prayers powerful, it is the humble and contrite heart that makes the difference.

It doesn’t matter if you have an hour to pray, 30 minutes to pray, or 5 minutes to pray.  It doesn’t matter if your language is elegant, simple or completely silent for lack of knowing what to say.  Some folks just cry before God and He knows what is in the heart and what the prayer is all about.

Prayer isn’t saying things in a special or specific way.  Prayer is just talking to God, just having a conversation and listening for Him to answer back.  People talk about praying at all times.  I am one of those people.  Prayer doesn’t need a special place or posture, it is being thankful at all times, talking to God at all times, and being aware of your surroundings and the needs that are there.  It’s praying for a car broken down on the side of the road, an ambulance going in the opposite direction, a sad person walking along the road, a happy child dancing in a yard.  Prayer is just speaking a word of help, or healing, or peace, or thankfulness.

And the most important point to this is – Prayer Works.  The only prayers that are not answered are the prayers that are never spoken. Take a moment, look around, say a prayer.  It feels amazing!

————-

Do you need prayer?  Send an email to shiloh.spiritual@aol.com and I will add you to my prayer board.  Have a Blessed Day!  Mama Linda

 

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RESTING WITH MARY

21 Aug

Martha and Mary with Jesus

“But one thing is needful: and Mary hath chosen that good part, which shall not be taken away from her.”  LUKE 10:42 

—

Forever in my mind rests the sweet fragrance of a summer rose,

    the cool soft pedals caress the tips of my fingers,

    the perfectly formed flower nestles gently in my memory

  –  ready to rise at a moments request.

—

Though the rose is gone

  –  the memory,

    ever much as sweet,

    cannot be taken away.

—

Then stands the Rose of Sharon

  –  a tender fragrance rising sweetly in my soul.

    A cool, soft caress that soothes my weary mind

    and removes the torments of the day,

    nestled gently and preciously inside this child,

    where He cannot be taken away.

—

The words of the Master hide safely in my heart,

    prepared to flow forth in the time of need.

    Lying safely in the arms of the Spirit,

    residing tenderly within this child.

—

Though the wooden structure of the Church

    may be destroyed,

    and every book burned,

    inside this child rests a temple

    with God’s Word that cannot be taken away.

—

And though this body may be taken,

  –  what victory, what joy  –

    for that which rests inside my heart and soul

    will be brought to life in that Holy City,

  when I meet Jesus, face to face.

—

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Birth Of The Bride

20 Aug

Genesis 1

Adam ressurection

The waters came forth,

    pure and abundant,

    preparing for life,

    supernaturally.

—

The evening and the morning,

    were the 5th day,

    life had begun.

—

From the dust of the dry land,

    and the waters of the sea,

    God’s hand formed and molded man,

    the first Adam.

—

The blood in his body lay silent,

    His image and soul lay pure,

    without life, water and blood ran together,

    unheedingly.

—

Then into his nostrils did God breathe,

    true life,

    not merging liquid,

    not hardened soil.

—

The gentle breeze from the soul of God,

    drew man to life,

    away from silent existence,

    covenant of love,

    covenant of truth.

—

The blood and water coursed within man,

    birthing forth the desire,

    of a new covenant.

—

In the safety of love man rested,

    a deep sleep,

    peaceful sleep.

—

God reached deep inside,

    removing a small sacrifice,

    blood and water and molded dust.

—

This rib became the bride of Adam,

    still and lifeless,

    breathed to life,

    by the same precious deity,

    the one Holy God.

—

By the breath of God did the woman rise,

    from mere existence,

    to precious life.

—

The evening and the morning,

    were the 6th day,

    the Bride was born.

—

She was to bear the cycle,

    the covenant of blood and water,

    the temporary temple of God’s chosen.

—

The cycle continued,

    covenant   –   sacrifice,

    birth    –    sacrifice,

    covenant    –    death.

—

Jesus, the final covenant,

    God the son,

    the substance of new life,

    pierced in His side.

—

Even in death,

    precious blood and water,

    amniotic fluid ran down the cross,

    onto a cursed hill  –  Golgatha.

—

With it ran the seed of a new nation,

    a new generation,

    the covenant of eternal life,

    the Bride of Christ.

—

With His last earthly breath,

    He drew in the sins of the world,

    and the Bride to come,

    that all life might dwell,

    in the Holy promises.

—

The sins, cleansed and forgiven,

    ran with the blood,

    ran with the water,

    planting the seed,

    of the covenant to come,

    Kingdom Heirs.

—

A tiny baby, born in the darkest of times,

    nurtured by the hand of God,

   filled with the breath of the Spirit,

    coursed through with sacrificial blood,

    sacrificial water.

—

No longer apart from God the Father,

    no longer apart from God the Son,

    the miraculous testimony of living Word,

    birthed in the death of sin.

—

Rise up, Oh Israel,

    take your inheritance of life,

    God breathed,

   Holy & Blessed.

—

Clothe yourself in gold and purple,

    as the rightful Bride,

    of Christ.

—

Rise up, Oh Israel,

    for the Groom prepares the place,

    where you shall dwell,

    the promises have come to pass,

    where faith meet truth,

    and they become one.

—

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RUMINATE

10 Aug

the-thinker - Ruminate

 “I will sing unto the LORD as long as I live: I will sing praise to my God while I have my being.  34  My meditation of him shall be sweet: I will be glad in the LORD.”  Psalm 104:33

Living in a small town gives a person a whole different perspective on elections.  Not the big national, or even the state elections, but the down and dirty run for school board or city counsel elections.

My, my, my!  At election time people seem to find liberty in negative speech.  It’s almost like the Christian values of a person has a “stand-by” clause, allowing them to bring up memories of poor choices made by another and share them with the community.  Something we would normally bring to the prayer closet now makes front page news, and it doesn’t stop on Election Day, but continues for weeks after.

We ruminate on the final choice, questioning how someone made office when they . . .  We ruminate on the general population making decisions that could have life-long consequences without understanding the whole platform.

After the 2004 National Elections they did an exit pole and the biggest concern of the general public was the deterioration of moral values.  So they ruminate on it and ruminate on it and ruminate on it, feeling helpless to make a change.

I wonder how many turned to God’s Word, looking for comfort and answers.  I wonder how many ruminate on the Words of truth, living in the fruits of the spirit.  I wonder how many took the angry hurting words they heard about candidates to their prayer closet and prayed a foundation of wisdom and strength and peace for those chosen as our leaders.

Jesus, please hold my tongue if I’m tempted to speak ill of another.  Let me be an encourager and prayer warrior for those who have erred.  Let me never forget that you ordain people to their positions in life, and it is not my place to question Your Will.  Remind me always to ruminate on Your Word, day and night, leaving no place for negative thoughts.  And Jesus, please forgive me when I fail.

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CARPE DEIM

9 Aug

“For I was an hungred, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in:  Naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visited me: I was in prison, and ye came unto me.  Then shall the righteous answer him, saying, Lord, when saw we thee an hungred, and fed thee? or thirsty, and gave thee drink?  When saw we thee a stranger, and took thee in? or naked, and clothed thee?  Or when saw we thee sick, or in prison, and came unto thee?  And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.”   Matthew 25:35

Inmates shackled

Over the last “many” years I have spent more time in criminal justice courtrooms than I care to remember.  I’ve watched the guards bring in a line of shaking, red-eyed prisoners, shackled at the hands and feet and chained to each other.  I’ve watched the families, broken and confused, sitting on the benches, completely helpless.

My Mother’s heart wants to comfort them, assure them that it’s all going to be okay, but talking is forbidden, movement discouraged – and it just might NOT be okay.

I see families trying to catch the eye of their imprisoned loved one, to give them a sign of hope.  But signs are posted all over the room that “no interfacing with the prisoner is allowed.”  Not verbal communication, not hand signs, nothing – under penalty of arrest.  It doesn’t take long to recognize how serious things are.

All the quotes and thoughts I’ve had as a counselor remained in my mind.

“Be instant in season and out of season.”

“A word fitly spoken . . .”

“Go into all the world . . .”

“Carpe Diem.”

In a place where people most needed a word of hope, it was forbidden.  Where did it all go wrong?

I’ve been given the honor of ministering to many inmates’ families.  Families referred to me by churches, prison chaplains and inmates, wanting to be sure their families are doing okay.  I’ve been able to bring words of truth and hope to inmates whose lives changed at a moment of indiscretion.  I’ve seen God bloom in situations that seemed completely hopeless.

God, help me always remember that every inmate shackled to a guard is Your child, born for Your kingdom.  Help me to remember that even though I may not be able to change a situation, I can always bring a word of encouragement and hope.  Help me to remember that the gift of “free will” may forever change the direction of a person’s life, but it does not close the door to Your Kingdom, if a changed life will stand at your door and knock.  And always help me to remember that I may be the only “Jesus’ others will ever see – and if I don’t tell them the words of truth, how will they ever know?  Carpe Diem.

Written by Linda J. Humes

8/21/2005

**Road to Emmaus**

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Happy Thanksgiving!

27 Nov

May God’s unending blessings shower over you today and throughout the year.

God Bless You!

Linda

 

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Heritage of Hope

1 Sep

sprout in dry desert

“in whom also we were made a heritage, having been foreordained according to the purpose of him who worketh all things after the counsel of His will; to the end that we should be unto the praise of His glory, we who had before hoped in Christ:”  Ephesians 1:11-12 (ASV)

Recently I was invited to a new friend’s home for lunch after church.  God has richly blessed this couple and their home was amazing.  Everywhere I looked was just . . . “Wow!”  When I returned home that evening I was flooded with memories of my childhood home.  For days I couldn’t shake it.  Depression set in.  It was a heritage that I could not shake, even though my life is so much different now.

Growing up in the 50’s in a small desert town is a whole world away from the way things are today.  No running water, outhouses (I’m still not very fond of those things), no cooling, only the kitchen stove for heating, bare cement floors, and the backseat out of an old Chevy for a sofa.  Bed was blankets on old steel springs, no mattress.  I remember, many mornings, getting up to my mom melting down icicles on the stove so we could have water.  There was a wind driven fan in the wall that helped bring air into the home during the summer.  We would lay on the cool cement floor under that fan to take naps; mom stuffed a wooden spoon between the blades to make it stop at night.  Meals were jackrabbit, catfish and pinto beans, unless a neighbor brought us a chicken.  My worldly heritage.

I remember telling God that I would never return to an area like that.  In recent years I have walked into homes with similar conditions and physically shook. I told God that I couldn’t be there, I couldn’t think there, I couldn’t breathe there.  His voice came gently, “how can you minister to them if you don’t see where they are from, if you don’t find common ground.”  It was my call to show them the heritage that God held for them, far beyond the physical conditions where they currently existed.

God’s Heritage, created for us before the foundations of the earth, is eternal life (John 3:15).  A life free from pain and illness.  A life free from tears, sorrow, worry and doubt (Revelation 21:4).  A heritage of being an heir with His son, Jesus Christ (Romans 8:17).  A heritage of a mansion, built specifically for us, at the hands of Jesus himself (John 14:2).

When we hear the call on our lives we become partakers with Jesus, reaching out to a lonely broken world (Ephesians 3:6).  We become workers of the gospel, sharing with all the promise of the heritage they have waiting for them, if they would only believe.  We testify and share the very gifts that God has given to us, as He has willed for us to do; as well as those who will follow after.  And in that labor we find fullness of joy (Psalm 16:11), praising and worshipping our God for the gift of His manifested glory in our lives (John 1:14), filled with grace and truth.

Lord, let us remember that we are your hands and feet to this world of hurting and wounded people.  Help us to walk past the difficult memories of our worldly heritage and share a story of hope with those whose lives rest in similar circumstances, giving them hope of a new and wonderful inheritance with You.  Let our testimony of rising above our circumstances be the key to their faith in a new life in You.  Please give us the strength.

**A Journey through Ephesians – Chapter 1, Part 7

Written by Linda J. Humes

8-31-14

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The Blessing of Being A Mom

11 May

Christmas 2013

First Delivered Mother’s Day 5-13-07

I was born to a 16 year old girl. I was raised by 2 alcoholics – my father died at age 29 from cirrhosis of the liver. I was 9.

I don’t remember every being hugged, kissed or told that I was loved. I promised myself that when I had kids – they would never doubt – at any time in their lives – that they were loved.

This is my story in a nutshell.

I never expected to adopt 2 little boys, crack babies, fetal alcohol syndrome, ADHD, 2 and 3 years developmentally delayed. One that spoke his own developed language that only his brother could understand

I never thought I would have to fight to have their medications removed and treat their physical and behavioral problems with diet.

I DID expect my boys to attain developmental advancement within 2 years – and they did – because they were put into an environment of love in their Christian child care, their Christian school, their church family, and in our home – and they were constantly lifted up by dozens of prayer warriors. God is so Faithful.

I never expected to be told on 3 separate occasions that my 7 year old had a terminal disease. That they wouldn’t allow the adoption to continue because they weren’t exactly sure what the medical problem was – even though we told them that we didn’t care what he had, we loved him and wanted the adoption to be finalized.

I DID expect a miracle. After the warriors of prayer went to battle – the doctors came back with “Well, we don’t know what happened, but his blood levels are now in the normal range.” We adopted both boys 4/28/1998.

I never thought I would have to stand before my boy’s principal and fight for them to be able to bring their Bible to school.

I never thought I would have to fight with that principal over a suspension because my boys removed themselves from their classrooms and refused to watch a movie filled with magic and witchcraft.

I never thought I’d walk into a bedroom calf-high with toys and clothes.

I never thought I’d say to my boys – after looking into their closet and seeing the clean clothes I had given them, on hangers, laying on the floor – recently baptized by the cat – “well, I retire – they’re your problem from now on!”

I never thought we’d have times where we had to pray over an empty refrigerator and pantry – standing in faith that God answers prayer – and within an hour, each time, He did.

I never thought I’d have to create chore boards and get kids up an hour early each morning to be sure they were done.

I never thought we’d be able to afford to buy the boys laptops – and never thought we’d be taking them back away now and again as behavioral leverage.

I never thought all of my boys would receive the Presidential Award for Physical Fitness – see guys, size isn’t everything.

I never thought I’d be sitting up until 10pm every night doing homework – helping my son work through his learning disability – teaching from short term memory into long term memory.

I never thought one of my sons would receive the Presidential Award for Academic Excellence. Isn’t that awesome!

I never thought my home would be filled with smelly escaping rabbits, gerbils, hamsters, guinea pigs, and a 6’ iguana named Iggy – and “NO” Jon, you may not have an ostrich, I don’t care how tame they say it is.

I never thought my son would tell his High School class that I was his “super-hero” through an essay that he read to the other students.

I never thought my son would write a book of poems, just for me; a precious gift given on Mother’s Day.

I never thought my son would join the ARMY and get sent to Korea – but I couldn’t be more proud.

I never expected my 16 year old to run away to live with a drug dealer so he could feed his drug addiction. To stay away without any direct communication for over 4 months.

I never expected to have to battle with the “enemy of our souls” for that son. Walking and praying in our home and yard for hours upon hours every night – standing on the promises of God. Quoting back the scripture to God –

“God you told me that if I raise him up in the way he should go – he will not depart from it.

“God, you said when we ask anything believing, it will come to pass.

“God you said if I have the faith of a Mustard Seed I can move a mountain – and all I want is to move a boy from an evil place back to his home. God you said   !

I never expected to have to play Christian radio 24/7 to bring peace and an anointing, so we could all sleep.

I never expected that our family would need to go into his room regularly and do spiritual warfare in a prayer circle while he was away.

I never expected that I would have to leave letters, clothes and food on my son’s bed – because we knew he would come home and go into his room several times a week. We always told him how much we loved him – even at his most unlovable times. – When my son finally came home, he had every one of those letters with him. It was a testimony to the love he felt, even in his most rebellious time, even though he still spewed words of anger and hate.

I never expected to call the police many times to help me search the streets of Phoenix for my son and bring him home. I refused to lose him into the streets again.

I never expected to have to sit with my son in the emergency room for 15 hours as he was coming out of an alcohol/Methamphetamine overdose.

I never expected to have to visit (2) my sons in Jail – sit in courtroom after courtroom with all (3) – and then visit one of my sons in prison every other week. He was only 18 years old. Those visits became treasured jewels to our family – if you could only see what God did through them. They brought us closer than you can imagine.

My oldest son found Jesus again in a cell in Camp Verde Detention Center. Before long he was moved to Florence and I started getting letters from people in the cells near him – they all started the same – “Hi my name is _____ and I’m in a cell next to your son. I hear him talking about Jesus all the time, and I was wondering if you would teach me about this Jesus.”

Sometimes I’d get a letter from my son saying “Mom, there’s a man here that’s really hurting, and I tried to get him to write to you – but he’s shy. Could you please write to him and encourage him. You know what to do.”

That list of men and women had grown to 70 in 2007, and over 300 as of now. Many have been released and still stayed in touch. Some have become adopted-in children; treasured family members. We have brought over 12 of these hurting people into our home and helped them prepare to for a life in the community. Some came from prison, some came from the streets.

The thing I’ve recognized in writing to these inmates is that most of them have no relationship with their family, especially their mom. The mom’s are dead, drug addicts, in prison, or have abandoned them because of their behaviors. Year after year I received Mother’s Day cards and letters from people I’ve never met – because I took the time to tell them how precious they are to Jesus, and how much I care about how them.

All of my children have made poor decisions and each one has grown tremendously from those poor decisions and the consequences they had to face because of them. Everyone makes poor decisions. That doesn’t make them bad kids; that makes them human.

Don’t tell me a child is not reachable. Don’t tell me a child is hopelessly lost. Inside every angry, tattooed, pierced, cut, cigarette burned young adult is a hurting child that wants to know someone loves them.

They want to know about Jesus, even if they don’t show it. They want to know about unconditional love, even if they don’t say it. They see Jesus through you – and learn about Him through your walk, your fruit – and the words you speak into their lives.

Don’t tell me that it’s impossible to raise respectful, compassionate, God fearing boys. I have 3. My oldest son is in Welding School in College. My middle son is in Fire Science in College. My youngest son is a Pastor, following in my footsteps, preparing to go to Seminary. I couldn’t be more proud of my children – they bless me daily. My boys are not afraid to publicly show affection toward me and tell me that they love me, several times a day. They tell each other the same and are there for each other when difficulties arise.

MY GOD was there with me every step of the last 28 years of being a Mom, giving me grace to see through the hard and difficult steps – making every step of this challenge a gift of LOVE. God used the difficult times to bring healing and peace to the family.

Being a Mom isn’t easy – but it’s the greatest gift God has ever given a woman. It’s the greatest gift God has given me. I am SO PROUD to be a MOM.

2014 Update:

This last year I was blessed with a wonderful and beautiful daughter-in-law and a 4 year old grandson.  They are true treasures.  My oldest son has graduated from Welding School, just a few days ago.  My middle son is back in the military, keeping our country safe.  My youngest son is not where he should be – but I hold him constantly in prayer.  Thank you God for blessing me with this incredible family.

2022 Update:

Life continues to evolve and each of my children – birth child, adopted children, adopted in children, those who call me mama – have taken paths that I don’t understand, but God does. Some have done amazingly well. Some have made terribly poor choices. Some go through the trials and the successes and back and forth, just like every other person on this earth – and I know that, without a shadow of a doubt – God is holding them in the palm of His hand. This praying mama will never give up, either will my Jesus. No matter what came and what battles we have faced, or will yet to face – I would never regret being a mom.

By Mama Linda J. Humes

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