Remembering Tillie

I sit at my computer tonight remembering my mother-in-law, Tillie Wengerd Beachy, who recently passed from this life into the glorious peace and beauty of Heaven.  She was one hundred one years and nine months of age.

She was a staunch believer in the Lord Jesus Christ as her personal savior, and a woman of honor with a strong sense of justice.  She was one to speak her mind: you always knew what she thought about any given subject.  No pretending or hiding the “real Tillie.”

When Dave and I got married in 1967, Tillie took some getting used to.  I remember when we were dating, Tillie said, “We couldn’t think of anyone else better suited for a wife for Dave.”  I wasn’t quite sure how to take that at first, but I chose to take it as a compliment instead of wondering if she wished there were somebody better. J 

Tillie was a very pragmatic lady.  No frills or unnecessary “stuff.”  Having learned this, I remember one Christmas I decided I’d give her a practical gift and filled a bread basket with homemade cookies.  I was so hopeful she’d like it.  When I handed her the gift, she remarked, “Oh, thanks for the cookies, but I have no use for the bread basket: I already have one.”  I was confused and a bit hurt, because in my family of origin, one never turned down a gift, even if it was “of no use.”  Tillie wasn’t too keen on giving gifts wrapped in paper either, but preferred to hand the gift, unwrapped, to the recipient.  Like I said, she was a very practical, no-nonsense, take-charge kind of woman.  Not wrong, just different.

She and her husband, Irvin, had a great big heart for missions.  In the downstairs hallway of their Beachley Street home in Meyersdale, PA, was a large map of the world with areas marked for giving to missionary work around the world.  They prayed for and supported many good ministries and did without things so they could give more.  Tillie was quite frugal, but they always had sufficient, and we had many a wonderful meal at their home as the family of seven children with their spouses and children gathered for Thanksgiving and Christmas or other special events. 

She and Irvin both loved to sing and worship the Lord, and for a number of years, they opened their home to a group of “Hungry Hearts” who desired the infilling and gifts of the Holy Spirit.  People from different churches attended every Saturday night, and Dave and I were privileged among them.  Those were some special times of spiritual growth and deep unity of fellowship.

Tillie was quite knowledgeable on a variety of subjects, and their home sported a set of encyclopedias.  I remember one time at a Christmas gathering in the Beachley St. house, someone asked a question, and I expressed surprise that she knew the answer.  She looked at me, laughed, and said, “Why?  Did you think I was too stupid to know the answer?”  I was quite taken aback she’d even think such a thing of me.  In my family of origin, my expression of surprise would have meant, “Wow, I’m impressed you know that!”  It had been meant as a compliment.  Her personality wasn’t wrong—just different. 

After Irvin died, Tillie moved to an apartment in Springs, PA, near her eldest daughter, Phoebe.  I have good memories of visiting her frequently there.  I can still see her in the kitchen as she prepared a simple but delicious meal and sliced homemade bread while I set the table.  Sometimes we would talk about Scripture, personal concerns, or the whereabouts of people she knew in the community.   She frequently told us she was so thankful for our good marriage.  Over the years I’d come to understand and appreciate her for who she was.

When she could no longer care for herself, she moved in with her oldest daughter and husband.  The children devised a plan to take turns calling her every day.  When her eyesight began to fail, Dave and others made it a point to read Scripture to her with each phone call.

 Years passed, and Tillie longed to go on “home” to the Lord she loved; she said she felt lonely and was tired of living.  Dave and I visited her at Goodwill Mennonite Home in Grantsville, MD when we could.  It was hard for her to hear what was said to her, so conversation was a real challenge. 

 My mother-in-law finally got her wish to go “home” on Monday, December 15, 2014.  Thank you, Tillie, for all the years of faithful prayer for your family.  One thing is for sure: your prayers will never die.  I’ll see you in Heaven, Mama Beachy.

Copyright © 2014 Elaine Beachy

Are You Ready for Christmas?

Poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s moving lyrics, “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day,” penned long ago in 1863 begins:

 “I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet the words repeat
Of peace on earth, good will to men.”

“I thought how, as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom
Had rolled along the unbroken song
Of peace on earth, good will to men.”

The song, “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” croons across the airwaves every year after Thanksgiving until the end of December.  But for many, the mention of “home” is especially painful this time of year.

Homeless people fill shelters, or wander the streets.  Prisons are full of men and women who can’t go home for Christmas.  Families live in cars because they have lost everything – their job, house, and bank account.  Others suffer the death of a loved one, and so many suffer the pain of divorce or separation in a marriage.

Adult children are angry and refuse to come home or even speak to their parents.  Loving parents hold out longing arms and cry out to God because of those broken relationships.  Children wither mentally, emotionally, and physically because of parental abuse and neglect.  Moms and dads have wayward or runaway children, some of whom are enslaved in the sex traffic trade, have been kidnapped or killed.  Service men and women in combat overseas miss the comforts of home at Christmas time.  For all these, and many more, the words “Merry Christmas” are painful, hollow and mocking.

Brokenness abounds.

I think of the homeless woman I’ve encountered at various times throughout this year.  She pushes a grocery cart filled with her belongings as she hunches over the handle, reading a book, and making her way slowly up and down the sidewalks and streets.  I saw her the day of my children’s book signing at the Family Christian bookstore in Manassas, and again yesterday when I stopped by there to do some Christmas shopping.  The pavement had given the wheels on her buggy a worn flat spot making a “clunk, clunk,” sound with each step.

When I spoke with her a few months ago, she told me she’d lost her job and her home, and asked me for some money.  I gave her some, and asked, “Do you have family in the area?
She replied, “Yes.”

Again I pressed her.  “Why don’t they help you?”

Her answer: “We’ve had a falling-out.”

“Why don’t you give them a call and see if you can work things out?” I encouraged.

The homeless woman looked up from the book she was reading, and answered,   “The ball’s in their court now.”

How utterly sad!  An angry “falling out,” insisting her family come to her, prevents her from being home for Christmas!  And she isn’t the only one with that story.  Over the years, I’ve spoken with a few other homeless persons who’d had angry words at home, left the family to be on their own, and refused to make up.

“And in despair I bowed my head:
‘There is no peace on earth,’ I said,
‘For hate is strong and mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good will to men.’”

Indeed, Mr. Longfellow.  Hate and anger at Christmas time when there ought to be peace?   Dear God, tenderize our hearts!  We can’t solve all of the world’s big problems – you know, wars and all the overwhelming problems of the world – but we are responsible for our own corner of it.  One family member at a time.  One neighbor at a time.   Don’t play the blame game.  “If possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone.”  (Romans 12:18) Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me.  What is my responsibility?

Jesus said, “Why do you see the speck that is in your brother’s eye but do not notice or consider the beam of timber that is in your own eye?...You actor (pretender, hypocrite)! First take the beam out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take out the speck that is in your brother’s eye.”  (Luke 6:41-42)

“Let all bitterness and indignation and wrath (passion, rage, bad temper) and resentment (anger, animosity) and quarreling (brawling, clamor, contention) and slander (evil speaking, abusive or blasphemous language) be banished from you, with all malice (spite, ill will, or baseness of any kind).  And become useful and helpful and kind to one another, tenderhearted (compassionate, understanding, loving-hearted), forgiving one another [readily and freely], as God in Christ forgave you.   (Ephesians 4:31-32)  “As you would like and desire that men would do to you, do exactly so to them.”  (Luke 6:31)  And, “See to it that no one misses the grace of God and that no bitter root grows up to cause trouble and defile many.”  (Hebrews 12:15, NIV)

We tend to forget how much God has forgiven us for.  I don’t understand the love of God, but He sent Jesus, because He so loved the whole rotten, stinking world steeped in darkness and sin, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have God’s kind of life – everlasting life!  (John 3:16, my paraphrase)  Not one of us deserves even one teeny little bit of His forgiveness!  He already freely extends forgiveness to us even though we didn’t ask to be forgiven.  Think about that.  Our part is to believe Him and receive the forgiveness He freely offers.  What a gift to undeserving humanity!  If you haven’t yet received His free gift of forgiveness, tell Jesus you receive it right now and that you believe in Him.  Tell Him you want Him to be your Lord and Savior.  And it will be so.  Freely you have received, freely give – which includes forgiving others as you have been forgiven.  

Everywhere I go, people ask me the question: “Are you ready for Christmas?”  So, I ask you, dear reader, “Are you ready for Christmas?”  If you have a meek and humble heart to welcome the Prince of Peace, you are ready for Christmas.

The final triumphant lines of Longfellow’s poem are fitting here:

“Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
‘God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;
The wrong shall fail, the right prevail,
With peace on earth, good will to men.’

“Till ringing, singing, on its way,
The world revolved from night to day,
A voice, a chime, a chant sublime
Of peace on earth, good will to men!”

All Scripture is taken from the Amplified Bible unless otherwise noted.

Copyright © 2014 Elaine Beachy

The Christmas Bonus

1987 was a year of great change and adjustment for our family as we left Pennsylvania and moved to Virginia because my husband found employment there.  Although my parents and brothers and their families all lived in the same area of Virginia, I felt a great sense of loss because of friends I left behind.  I also left behind certain “social positions” such as President of our local chapter of Women’s Aglow in Somerset, heavy involvement in our church at Indian Lake Christian Center, and a home Bible study with dear friends with whom we'd met for a number of years.   Here in Virginia, I was a "nobody."  I didn’t feel established.  The neighbors were new, roads were new, traffic was heavier and faster, and we’d had to find a new church and make new friends.  We felt led to go to a different church than my parents and brothers attended, so we didn’t see them on a regular basis.  Everyone seemed involved in their own face-paced lifestyle and circle of friends. 

Now, in a few days, we'd be celebrating our second Christmas in Virginia.  Smiling faces and excited chatter greeted me as our family of five gathered for dinner on that December evening years ago.  Our oldest son told of a bonus check he’d received from his boss, and our daughter said she’d also received one from her employer.  My husband got a nice Christmas bonus as well.  

I told each one I was glad for them, but suddenly the monster of self-pity reared its ugly head and hissed in my ear.  Where is my bonus?  Everyone except me is doing something worthwhile and getting rewarded for it.  My throat tightened and I turned away so they wouldn’t see my tears.  What was the matter with me? 

The family ate in ten minutes what it had taken me hours to prepare.  Afterwards, my teenage boys headed to their bedrooms downstairs and my daughter to hers down the hall from the kitchen.  My husband went to the living room to watch TV, and I was left alone, staring at a messy table and even more kitchen duty.  Where was my free time?  The monster squeezed my heart, sending streams of tears down my cheeks.  I felt cheated, unappreciated, taken for granted, and worthless.  The emotional pain in my chest was palpable as the monster stabbed me.

Feeling quite sorry for myself, I shuffled around the table, stacked plates and silverware, and plodded to the kitchen.  I looked out the kitchen window into the inky blackness of night and set the plates in the sink, then headed back to the dining room for another load of dirty dishes.  I gave my husband a furtive glance to see if he’d volunteer to help.  Nope, he was enjoying his TV program.  Suddenly, the words of Joyce Meyer came to my remembrance: “You can either be pitiful or powerful, but you can’t be both.”  

I straightened my shoulders and decided the monster had played his last hand.  I dismissed him with a stiff rebuke, and he fled in terror at the name of Jesus.  The Holy Spirit helped me realize that Jesus will reward me for ministering to my family.  Jesus was my Christmas bonus, and I was honored to serve Him by caring for my loved ones.  What could be better than that?

Copyright © 2014 Elaine Beachy 

The Angel That "Flied"

“I remember all that happened as though it were just yesterday.”  Debbie leaned forward, thick, ash-blond hair falling attractively around her strong face.  Her large, warm, clear blue eyes filled with tears as she told me the story.

“That Friday, I dropped off my four-year-old son Danny and his cousin Melanie at my mom’s town house, drove out of the complex and across the divided highway to the parked school bus I would drive come September.  The road looked wet from the shimmer of the intense August heat, and the 100° felt like at least 120°.  As I cleaned and washed out the bus, I kicked off my shoes to let the water cool my feet.  Then, as I bent down to clean under a seat, I heard a voice say, ‘Hi, Mommy!’ 

“I wheeled around, shocked to see my baby, my Danny, standing on the bus steps!  I said, ‘Danny!  What are you doing here?  I told you to stay at Grandma’s!  Now you stay right here; I’m just about finished…’

“I turned my attention to stuffing the ditty bag (first-aid kit, fire extinguisher, etc.)  When I straightened and looked out the window, my eyes met a terrifying sight.  My son’s body was pasted to the grill of an on-coming black Chevy Blazer.  Danny’s head and chin stuck up over the edge of the hood.  The vehicle kept moving, sliding, sliding, for about ninety-four feet as I watched, frozen.  I don’t remember any sound. When the blazer finally stopped, Danny was thrown off, and he slid twenty more feet on his back across the sizzling-hot asphalt.

“I leaped from the bus, forgetting my bare feet, and dashed to Danny’s twisted, rubbery form lying motionless in the road.  By now, my feet were blistered, and my mind was becoming hysterical.  My baby’s face was a funny color as I dropped to the pavement beside him.  His small, tangled body looked ghastly.  I wanted to scream.

“Suddenly I felt my spirit take control of my mind, like something coming out of here.”  Debbie paused to demonstrate by laying her hands across her abdomen.  “It seemed I somehow became only an instrument God was using, and I was filled with an overwhelming peace I never experienced before or since.  I acted out the instructions I heard from my spirit:  ‘Lay hands on the sick and they shall recover.’  So I laid hands on Danny’s head, then his neck, chest, stomach, legs, and feet.  I prayed aloud, ‘Lay hands on the sick, and they shall recover,’ over and over again.  I experienced what Jesus said in the Bible, John 7:38: ‘Whoever believes in Me, out of his belly shall flow rivers of living water.’

“By this time a crowd had gathered around me and Danny.  One man who heard me pray thought I was in shock, pulled me away from my son and told me to call my husband.  Reluctantly, I obeyed.  But first, I called a Christian sister and asked her to call others.

“When I got back to the scene, the ambulance had arrived, and Danny was in the back.  I got in beside him.  As we started for Commonwealth Hospital, I saw a huge ‘goose egg’ grow on the side of his head, almost like a second head.  Again, I began to pray.  Laying my hands on his head, I said, ‘In the Name of Jesus, there will be no brain damage to this child!’  I didn’t care who heard me.

“A paramedic named John made unsuccessful attempts to get an I.V. into Danny.  Suddenly he yelled to the driver, ‘Go in on code blue!’ and quickly straddled the still form, and began heart massage.  Danny’s lips had turned purple and white.  John yelled, ‘Mom, call his name!  Call his name!’

“So I shouted, ‘Danny, in the name of Jesus, talk to me!  Talk to me!’  All at once, my son began to cry.  ‘That sound is music to our ears, Mom,’ John said.  ‘We’ve placed him in the best hands – those of the Great Physician.  I’m with Fishnet Ministries, and all three of us running this ambulance are born-again Christians, ma’am.’  By this time, John was able to insert the I.V.

“At Commonwealth, the doctors were grave.  X-rays showed the neck separated in three places, and multiple contusions from head to toe.  There was great concern about internal hemorrhaging and spleen damage, so he was transferred to the trauma unit at Fairfax Hospital in Fairfax, Virginia.

“Upon our arrival there, a group of Christians had gathered to pray with us as Danny was rushed to the second floor and prepped for surgery.  Within the walls of a private room, we knelt in a circle, holding hands.  As we prayed, someone spoke in tongues by the power of the Holy Spirit and gave the interpretation.  The message was this:  ‘There will be no knife taken to this child.  Jesus is on the scene, and He is the same yesterday, today, and forever.  The eyes of man will see a miracle, and miracles are for the unbelievers.’

“We finished praying and sat down to wait.  In just a few minutes the door burst open, and a frantic nurse beckoned with urgency.  ‘Mr. and Mrs. Mosher, Dr. Seneca wants to see you immediately!  The X-rays are starting to contradict themselves, and he doesn’t know what to think!’

“My husband and I jumped to our feet, and the prayer partners thanked and praised God.  As we entered the trauma unit, Dr. Seneca met us.  He looked quite moved as he announced, ‘Danny does not need surgery.  He started functioning on his own.  His neck shows no separation now, and all hemorrhaging has stopped; but we want to keep him here for observation.’

“We spent that night with Danny in intensive care.  I told a nurse he was brought in on a ‘code blue’ and asked her what that meant.  I was stunned to learn that it meant the death signal, and she was incredulous that our son survived.

“The next day, Saturday, Danny was moved to a regular room.  His left collar bone stuck straight up out of his shoulder, and the doctors could not wrap it because of the severe third degree burns on his back.  Dr. Seneca and Dr. Vitek took more X-rays, and were awe-struck.  The results showed nothing broken, yet they could see and feel his collar bone sticking straight up!  On Sunday, Dr. Seneca released Danny to go home, and called him a miracle child as he offered a teddy bear to my son.

“My husband, Victor, and I were concerned about possible mental trauma in our son, so that afternoon we questioned him at home.  I said, ‘Danny, do you realize what happened to you, honey?’

“He thought awhile, then said, ‘Umm, I ‘member the big black hitted me, then I went to sleep.’  I asked him if that’s all he remembered.  His forehead creased in deep thought, then all at once his face brightened. ‘I ‘member the angel that flyed, Mommy.’ 

“I was transfixed and asked him what he meant by seeing an angel.  He replied, ‘Yes, Mommy, you know—the angel that flyed in the ambulance. The angel took my hands and placed them around my neck, like this.’  Danny placed his small hands behind his own neck to demonstrate.  ‘And he carried me.’

“I asked him where he was carried, where he went.  My son said, ‘The angel took me to Jesus, Mommy.  The angel said Jesus told him to go down in the road and get the little boy that was hurt.’

“Stunned, I asked him again if he really saw Jesus.  When he replied, ‘Uh-humm,’ I asked him what Jesus looked like.  He thought hard and struggled for the right words.  Finally, my four-year old Danny said matter-of-factly, “Mommy, Him looked like a big, bright, bright light bulb!  There was lights all around!’

“I asked him if he talked to Jesus.  He nodded and said, ‘Uh-huh.’  I prodded him further, and wanted to know what Jesus said to him.  Danny said, ‘Jesus said He was gonna heal me!

My curiosity got the best of me, and I asked him if he saw me or any people, on the road at the scene of the accident.  Danny said, ‘No, Mommy, but I ‘member the man sitting by the road with his hands on his head.

All of us in the room were stunned by what was just revealed.  The man who hit Danny had been sitting on the curb with his head in his hands, just as Danny described him.  I believe Danny must have been out of his body before the ambulance arrived.

“Well, the burns on his back healed miraculously without medical treatment, and by Tuesday morning his left collar bone was down flat.  The doctors were incredulous; they had truly seen a miracle!

“Today, Danny is a strapping 5’11”, 195 pounds, totally normal fourteen-year old with large hands and a warm, affectionate heart.  As I sometimes hold those hands in mine, I thank God for His kind goodness.  Although I had been a Christian for many years, that August of 1984 was the time I lost my fear of God—you know, the hell-fire and brimstone teaching I’d been raised with—and I realized how much He loved me.  He was not ‘up there’ with a club just waiting for me to sin so He could ‘get me.’  He allowed me to keep all three of my sons, yet gave up the only One He had for me!”

As Debbie spoke these words, her eyes brimmed with tears that spilled down her face.  “I have a very thankful heart for Who God is, and I firmly believe that having an attitude of heart-felt gratitude and faith in God’s Word are vital keys to experiencing the miraculous intervention of God.

***

I wrote this after my interview with Debbie Mosher in 1996, and sold the story to Guideposts Magazine.  It made the cover story of their 1997 May/June issue of Angels on Earth magazine. They re-wrote the story to their own liking, and also interviewed Debbie.

Copyright © 2014 Elaine Beachy

Kick the Hurry Habit

Harry let out a swear word as he yelled at the car ahead of him.  “Get a move on, you creep; I haven’t got all day!!”  He blew one long, loud blast on the horn as he moved within an inch of the offending car’s rear bumper.  The other driver stuck his hand out the window and gave Harry an obscene hand signal. 

“Good grief, Harry, calm down,” his wife Melda admonished.  “You’ll give yourself a heart attack!”  Harry gave Melda a withering glance, gripped the steering wheel, and retorted, “I don’t want to be late for church!”

Here in Northern Virginia, life seems so fast-paced.  Traffic can be a “bear,” and patience wears thin.  Drivers honk their horns, or weave in and out of traffic just to gain a couple car lengths.  (Then you laugh when you see them stuck at the next traffic light with you.)   The TV show, Mythbusters, did an interesting experiment with a fifteen minute timed driving exercise.  One driver was to weave in and out of traffic, while the other driver was to stay with traffic, and forbidden to change lanes at all, and arrive at a set location.  To my surprise, the “weaver” only arrived a minute sooner than the one who just stayed with traffic.  So I ask: is it really worth it to let traffic give you a migraine, upset stomach, and angry emotions? 

   

When we hurry, our muscle tension increases, blood pressure rises and hormones are released that, if the stress is prolonged, hinder the body’s healing and recovery processes.  When we hurry, we work faster, lift heavier, and are accident-prone.  My mom used to say, “Haste makes waste!”  And it’s so true; in our frustration to open flour and cereal bags, for example, they often rip open, and the contents spill everywhere.  In our hurry, milk or water gets knocked over, and the stress to deal with the mess is worse than ever.  Maybe we won’t need to “cry over spilled milk” if we slow down and take our time.

On the TV show Chopped, chefs must prepare a dish in thirty minutes and face a panel of three judges, hoping to avoid being “chopped” from moving on to the next round.  All four contestants begin with the appetizer round; one is eliminated because of faults found with his dish.  Round two is the main course, and again one of the remaining three is removed from the competition.  The final two chefs compete to win the dessert round.  The stress is unbelievable as chefs perspire, run to and from the pantry, slam pots, skillets, griddles, use deep fryers, blenders, sharp knives, and sometimes an ice cream machine.  Food is everywhere.  More than once, I’ve seen a chef cut a finger so badly that they lost valuable time getting the finger bandaged, and in the end, were “chopped” because they got blood on the serving plate.  The stress is palpable.  I ask myself: “Why would anyone want to subject themselves to such punishment?” The reasons chefs give for doing it is to “not let my family down,” or “to show my parents that I’m good at something,” or “because I love competition and want to win.” 

And we eat too fast.  Why?  Sometimes it’s because we oversleep, and need to gulp something for breakfast before we dash off to school, work, church, or an appointment.  Sometimes it’s just a habit.  My husband said he learned to eat fast on the job site.  As a commercial construction superintendent, he had to coordinate many subcontractors work, and often had to “eat on the run.”

Hurry spills over into listening, too.  We can easily get bored with people who speak slowly, or take their time to tell a story.  Are we so proud as to think that what someone has to say is not worth our time?  Since I write for home and family, let’s relate this to the family.  Do husbands and wives pay attention when their spouse talks?  Do parents take time to listen patiently to their children who want to share something?  Or are we so rushed in our schedules that our kids (and spouses) get lost in the shuffle?  Children can so easily learn to feel devalued and unloved because parents don’t take time to slow down, listen to them, and play with them.  I think children who feel hurried can also develop resentment toward the parents, and learn to pass that behavior on to their own children someday.

A number of years ago, I knew a lady who never answered her phone.  Instead, an answering machine message was short and not so sweet: “We’re busy – leave a message!”  It was said in such a way that the word “busy” sounded like she was even annoyed to take time to make the recording.  When I was around her, she talked of all she had to do, all that was going on, and seemed to wear busyness like a badge of honor.  I’ve come to realize that the more prominently a person wears that badge, the more disrespect and downright rudeness is displayed.  Do we take time to really connect and care about people?

We hurry our quiet time with God – if we have one at all.  This is an area I’ve had to work on.  How easy it is to let the tyranny of the urgent supersede good intentions.  I have to train my mind to put things into perspective and make a quality decision to satisfy the desire of my spirit and not let my mind dictate what my body should do.  And when I do, I feel peaceful, de-stressed, and satisfied.  The rest of the day goes so much better.

Why do we have a hurry habit?  Sometimes we try to please people and say “yes” to everything that’s asked of us.  A life without healthy boundaries, and the inability to say “no,” leads to a life of incredible stress.  We don’t want to disappoint people, so we don’t take care of our emotional health.  And sometimes we expect too much of ourselves, like, “I have to write one blog post per week!”  Or “I have to get that next chapter of the book written!” Or, “I have to host that party!”

There is a difference between being busy in an emergency, and being habitually busy.  Our bodies were not designed to be in a continual state of “fight or flight”.  We can choose different thoughts.  And we can learn to go to bed on time, get up on time, and begin our day with God.  By choosing to be orderly, put things in their proper perspective, refusing to stress out over traffic lights, etc, and deliberately slowing down, you will notice a relaxed feeling of freedom in your body.  You’ll get back your sense of control and increase your overall energy level.  We need to kick the hurry habit for our own wellbeing and for the sake of everyone around us.  Will you join me in my quest?

Copyright © 2014 Elaine Beachy

A Bouquet of Hurry-Me-Nots

God was up to something.  How else could I explain the sequence of events that unfolded this week?  On Tuesday of this week, at my ten o’clock Women’s Life Bible study, one group re-capped their discussion as having been about living relaxed in the knowledge of our righteousness through Jesus Christ, and not living stressed anymore.  After hurrying home from my women’s Bible study, I ate lunch. 

That afternoon, hubby surprised me with, “Would you like to go to Skyline Drive tomorrow?  We can see beautiful scenery and maybe even some wildlife, and get a bite to eat for lunch.”

 

When Dave asked me the question, I was smack dab in the middle of making a big batch of “Butcher’s Sauce” that I hoped to have done in time to serve over pasta for dinner.  As I chopped, fried and stirred, I saw that by the time I got everything into the crock pot, and with the four hours cooking time needed, even on high, I would need to make something else for dinner.  My mind scrambled to think of what to make for the three of us (our son lives in the downstairs and eats with us several nights a week). 

In considering Dave’s question, I thought of my plans to make applesauce the next day from the one and a half bushels of McIntosh apples we bought at Hilltop Fruit Market in Grantsville, Maryland, last weekend.  But the idea of an unexpected “date” instead of making applesauce, quite appealed to me.  Surely the apples wouldn’t spoil in a day.  I took a deep breath and said, “Sure!”  I didn’t realize how much I needed the diversion.

That evening, with a different menu, we ate dinner early so we could attend our Tuesday evening Bible study at church.  I was very tired from the stress of hurrying through the day’s work, and I sat down for part of the worship.  As I sat there, I realized how good it felt to just relax and not have to hurry to get things done.  Our pastor taught on being established in righteousness and resting in the Lord (a reminder of what I’d heard in Women’s Life Bible study just that morning.)

The next morning, I called my chiropractor and changed my appointment to nine o’clock so we could leave earlier in the day.  As I waited in the treatment room for Dr. Tara to come in, a sudden knowing filled me as to one reason why I had knots in my upper back and shoulder muscles, and why my mid and lower back muscles may had been so tight and painful all summer.  I had been a “hurrier!”  I wouldn’t have had to make that “Butcher’s Sauce” recipe on Tuesday (copied from Dr. Tara’s bulletin board in the waiting room on Monday.)  But because I was eager to try it, I shopped for all the ingredients yet on Monday.  I gave myself a silent lecture: “Elaine, you make extra work for yourself when you don’t have to!”  I was stunned by my flash of insight.  

As I told Dr. Tara my revelation, she said that, yes indeed, stress makes the body core muscles tighten, causing muscular aches and pains.  I knew God was talking to me through her, too.  It was like a switch had turned on inside me when I saw the truth.  I thought of John 8:32: “You shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.”

On our drive, I shared my revelation with Dave and about my mission to slow down and de-stress.  I drew deep breaths and enjoyed the puffy white clouds scattered across a deep blue October sky.  I drank in the sight of nature and trees in the first stages of changing leaf color as the miles and stress melted behind us.  The applesauce-making, my writing, cleaning, and laundry could politely all wait their turn when I got back home.

There's nothing like cool green trees to aid relaxation!

Our first stop was the Shenandoah National Park Association visitor's center, where we made some purchases.  We played the wonderfully relaxing music CD, The Sounds of Shenandoah -- Beautiful Music & the Natural Symphony of Shenandoah, on the rest of our "date."  I read "Moonshiner's Son" by Carolyn Reeder when I got home.  Took me a few days to finish it, but I enjoyed it very much.  So much so, in fact, that I ordered some more of her books from Amazon; her most popular is "Shades of Gray," NOT to be confused with "Fifty Shades of Gray!"  The "Everything Bug" book is delightful reading as well.  I love everything we bought!

Skyline Drive has many overlooks; I think we stopped at each one!  I like the cloud shadow patterns on the mountains.

I got out of the car lots of times to take pictures.

Dave was so thoughtful; before we left the house, he researched rest stops and eating places.  I enjoyed the rustle of soft leaves under my feet as I walked from the car to the restroom.

Just beyond the restrooms was the Elkwallow Camp store, gift shop, and a grill room where we bought some lunch.

The day was quite breezy, but warm enough to eat at a picnic table outside.  Dave enjoyed his cup of chili, grilled cheese sandwich, and corn muffins.  I had a hamburger and fries.

One mountainside with some colored leaves; such a pretty view!

Lots of hiking trails in the Shenandoah National Park, but we didn't go hiking.

I plan to write more blog posts about types, causes and effects of stress, and how to have peace instead of knots in your stomach or back.  God bless you, dear reader!

Copyright © 2014 Elaine Beachy

Contentment and the Stuff Mart

Even as a senior citizen, I still love Veggie Tales! When I babysat our granddaughter years ago, she and I loved to watch Madame Blueberry and the Stuff Mart.  Although Madame had lots of good friends and a nice tree house, she was still unhappy because she thought she needed more “stuff.”

Like Madame Blueberry, many people look at what others have: a bigger house, a nicer car, better vacations, stylish clothes, new furniture, and the list goes on and on.  We want them because we feel discontented, or bored.  We want them because we feel jealous, envious, or inferior to others who have “more.”  Learn why Madame Blueberry was so “blue.”  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e2un3RWta_4

I Timothy 6:6 reads: “But godliness with contentment is great gain; for we brought nothing into this world, and we can take nothing out of it.  But if we have food and clothing, we will be content with that.”

And Hebrews 13:5 says, “Keep your lives free from the love of money and be content with what you have, because God has said, ‘Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.  So we say with confidence, ‘The Lord is my helper; I will not be afraid.  What can man do to me?’”

Is it possible the reason we covet and are discontent is because we’re afraid someone else will “get ahead” of us, receive more praise, more approval from others?  I believe the Lord is saying, “Your value is not in what you have, but in who I say you are.” 

You may ask, “So you’re saying I shouldn’t care what house I live in, what kind of clothes I have, or whether or not I have enough money?”  No, that’s not what I’m saying.  God created us to want to be creative, invent things, and be a good care-taker of what He’s given us.  I like what I read somewhere: we shouldn't be discontent to the point of being agitated or disquieted.  

Sometimes I get the urge to buy new accessories for the house because after six or seven years, I get tired of the “same old, same old.”  You ever been there?  That’s when I have to ask myself, “Why do I want to buy something new?”  For me, I think that it's my creative side calls to me.  For example, I imagine what our master bedroom would look like with different curtains and bedspread.  But then I remember the scripture about being content with what I have, and I think of the many who wish they had a home—or anything, for that matter. I start thanking God for what I already have, and the urge to buy something new dissipates. 

  

Instead, I look at my house and try to think how I could rearrange the furniture, or relocate wall art, candles, silk flowers and greenery.  Decorating for the seasons helps satisfy my creative side, too.  I closed my Home Interiors & Gifts business in June of 2009, and I still had a lot of things left from my stock.  I had an open house sale that year, gave a lot away, and kept just what fit into a closet.  I do love color, design and creativity, and I don’t think Jesus is against that.  In fact, He created us to want to improve our environment, be creative and inventive.  He just doesn’t want our lives to be disquieted with wanting more and more “stuff” for the sake of accumulation.  

If we so choose, the simple things in life bring us joy and contentment.  Charles Dickens said, “Cheerfulness and contentment are great beautifiers and are famous preservers of youthful looks.”  Madame Blueberry certainly wasn’t nice to be around when she was sucked into Complaining Swamp. In the end, she learned to be thankful for what she had.

Contentment comes from learning to be thankful—not comparing ourselves to others or entertaining the green-eyed monster.  Comparisons create feelings of stress, envy, jealousy, and resentment.  So what if someone is smarter, cuter, has something nicer or bigger, or is approved by high society?  Our worth does not depend on earthly, temporal things.  As followers of Jesus Christ, our perspective must be on eternal values learned from God’s Word.  I Timothy 6:17-18 tells us, “Command those who are rich in this present world not to be arrogant nor to put their hope in wealth, which is so uncertain, but to put their hope in God, who richly provides us with everything for our enjoyment.  Command them to do good, to be rich in good deeds, and to be generous and willing to share.”

The Russian author, Leo Tolstoy, tells the story of a man who was told he could have all the land he could walk around in one day, but he had to be back at the starting point by sundown.  The man walked for a long time, and thought he’d better head back, but he kept saying, “Just a little bit farther,” and kept walking to widen his territory.  Finally, he knew he had to head back, and he ran.  In the distance he saw his starting place, and in a burst of speed and determination, he crossed the finish line just as the sun slipped behind the hill.  He fell to the ground, gasping for breath, as blood gushed from his mouth and nose, and he died.  In the end, the only land he needed was six feet. 

God bless you, dear reader! 

All scriptures are from the NIV Bible. 

                                    Copyright ©2014 Elaine Beachy

How to Pray for Your Children

What’s a parent to do?  Besides Television Thoroughfare and Computer Court being dangerous places for children to play, drugs, alcohol, and promiscuous behavior threaten their health and safety if they associate with the wrong peers.  Schools with liberal philosophies on sex education, evolution, and moral relativism threaten to erode godly values. 

Some parents make financial sacrifices and enroll their children in expensive private or Christian schools in an attempt to protect them from wrong influences.  But, human nature being what it is without Jesus, there is no guarantee that, even in Christian schools, safety from every threat will be found.    

You install television and computer filters to help protect your children from destruction.  You are careful to watch over your child’s friendships.  If you’re a Christian parent, I know you care deeply that your child receives salvation by faith in Jesus Christ.  You’ve cultivated a godly atmosphere of love in your home, and taught the Word of God to them.  But still you struggle with worry and fears because of unprecedented challenges your children face in today’s society, as sin and lawlessness increase.  

As children spread their wings and fly from the nest, so to speak, many parents worry whether they have done enough to disciple their children in the ways of the Lord to prepare them for life.  What if they walk away from Jesus?  What if they marry the wrong person?  What if they choose the wrong career?  What if they adopt New Age teaching, get sucked into the occult or witchcraft?

A mother’s pillow is wet with tears before she falls asleep at night, only to awaken in the early morning hours with the pain of a wayward son or daughter still in her heart.  She blames herself for failing as a parent and prays in distress, fearful that her child will turn against God and be eternally lost.  Fear haunts her.  Fathers also experience this pain. "What if… what if… what if… " STOP!  Such thoughts and speech are destructive – and negatively productive! 

                              

I have hope and good news for you: declare the Word of God over your children!  “The Word of God is living and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged sword…”  (Hebrews 4:12, NKJ)   Stop praying in fear.  Declare the Word of the Lord with the power and authority Jesus gave you!  You will find hope and faith arise in your heart when you do.  It gives God a framework of faith in which to work on their behalf.  Claim God’s promises about your children and stand on them in persistent faith, no matter how circumstances look.  The Word says in Psalm 127:3 that “Sons are a heritage from the Lord, children a reward from Him.”   Speak life!  Choose words based on what God says about your children and declare them prayerfully, with faith in God: Don’t say things like:

·         My kids are a pain in the neck.

·         Suzie will never change.

·         Satan has my kids.

·         Johnny is no good.

·         I wish I didn’t have any kids.

Do you want those words to bear fruit?  I don’t think so.  You should be aware that parents who repeatedly say or think such things give the devil legal license and inroads into their children’s lives.  Don’t do that!  Proverbs 18:20 (NKJ) says that the power of life and death are in the power of the tongue.

·         My children are a blessing.

·         God is doing a good work in Suzie’s life.

·         My children are taught of the Lord.

·         God will fulfill His plan in Johnny’s life.

·         I’m blessed to be entrusted with raising children for the Lord.

One of my favorite scriptures to pray over my children is Isaiah 54:13:  “All your sons will be taught by the Lord, and great will be your children’s peace.”  Another one is, “I will pour out My Spirit on all people.  Your sons and daughters will prophesy, your young men will see visions…”  (Acts 2:17)  And, “Train a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it.”  (Proverbs 22:6) 

I put my children’s names in the Scripture verses and say them back to God.  “For as the rain comes down, and the snow from heaven, and do not return there, but water the earth, and make it bring forth and bud, that it may give seed to the sower and bread to the eater, so shall My word be that goes forth from My mouth; it shall not return to Me void, but it shall accomplish what I please, and it shall prosper in the thing for which I sent it.”  Isaiah 55:10-11 (NKJ)  God gave us His Word, His promises, to speak in the earth, that He may establish them.  It's the Genesis law of sowing and reaping.  Your words are spiritual seeds; choose them carefully.  The crop you raise will be your own.

Remember that Proverbs 18:21 says, “The tongue has the power of life and death, and those who love it will eat its fruit.”  The Lord has given us very great and precious promises that are realized when we speak our faith in His word, and with persistent patience, wait on the Lord to bring about the fulfillment.  Like a farmer who plants his crops in the earth, and waits for the harvest, so we sow into the spiritual realm with the words of our mouth.  What kind of harvest do you want?  It’s important to say what God says about you, your family, and your circumstances.

For more on speaking God’s Word over your children, I recommend Mike Shreve’s book, “65 Promises From God for Your Child – Powerful Prayers for Supernatural Results.”

Be encouraged, dear reader, and God bless you!

All Scriptures are from the NIV translation unless otherwise noted.

Copyright ©2014 Elaine Beachy

Vacations Are for... Relaxing?

Everyone needs to get away now and again for a change of scenery, and experience new things.  A lot of the fun, for me at least, is in the planning and anticipation of a family vacation.  For many years, when our grandchildren were in elementary school, we went to Nags Head every September for a whole week when rental rates for beach front houses were less than half price.  But now with teens that can’t take a week’s leave from high school, we’ve had to come up with other options.

This year some of our family managed a vacation to Arizona.  Our son Doug found a beautiful house for us to rent in Sedona; our daughter Deb is a great planner, and together with Doug’s help, put together an itinerary which included places to eat, day trips to the Grand Canyon, Jerome, Sunset Crater, and other sites and activities of interest.

I spent the entire week of July 7-11 shopping for summer-weight pants and shirts for Dave, doing all our laundry, ironing and packing suitcases.  We were up early Saturday morning, July 12, and our plane left Dulles International Airport around noon.

Flying is not my favorite thing, although I’ve done it a few times.  I’m not afraid, mind you; it’s just the tension of making sure you pack everything you need, hurrying with luggage from place to place, hurrying to get baggage checked, hurrying to get to the terminal, etc, that kind of takes some of the fun out of flying.  Vacations are supposed to be relaxing, right?  You know – getting away from the rat race, renewing body and soul…

Then there is the plane ride itself.  Sitting on the tarmac for an hour and a half is not exactly my idea of soaring to new heights.  My chiropractor gave me instructions to get up and stretch my back every hour of the flight. (That didn’t happen.)  Breathing re-circulated air isn’t my cup of tea either.  Then there is the disconcerting fact that I don’t want to drink much water or anything, (although I should) while traveling, either by car or plane, to avoid frequent bathroom breaks.  Stuck in my seat, I took small sips from my water bottle.  When the stewardess served snacks, I sipped my small cup of apple juice and nibbled the airline’s little bag of tasty oven baked Veggie Wheat Thins, and watched the “occupied” light overhead go on and off as passengers went to and from the bathroom.  I debated: do I go now or wait?  I didn’t want to risk getting a bladder infection, so I finally decided to make my move.

We sat front of center on the plane, but the front privy was occupied, so I opted for the one at the rear of the plane.  Dave had a window seat, Doug had the isle seat, and I sat in the middle.  Doug stood up to let me out, and I staggered my way back the isle past passengers whose heads and arms hung out in the isle as they slept on pillows.  I had to apologize frequently for disturbing them before I finally reached my destination. 

Just as I reached for the door handle of the privy, the plane hit an air pocket that rocked us pretty hard.  The seat belt signs came on, and the pilot warned passengers to stay buckled in their seats.  Perfect.  There I stood, a disobedient passenger with a pressing problem.  I opened the door to peer at the tiny receptacle, and was thankful I didn’t weigh a pound more than I already did.  I made my way inside, shut the door, and slid the lock into place.  (Or so I thought.)  I had barely sat down to enjoy my relief when the door flew open.  A male flight attendant was just outside the door, and I quickly lunged forward, grabbed the handle and pulled the door shut and slid the lock closed again as the plane rocked back and forth.  I was afraid to let go of the handle, lest the door fly open in spite of the bolt being in the “locked” position; so I held it shut with one hand.  With the other, I searched for the toilet paper.  When I found it, I used my elbow to stop the roll from spinning out of control as I severed a desired length of jagged paper and managed operations with one hand.  I prayed that the door would stay shut when I stood up to re-clothe myself.  I don’t think I ever pulled up a pair of pants so fast in all my life.  The tiny toilet had a dramatic flush; it almost sucked my breath down with it.  After I washed my hands at the teeny sink, I steadied myself against the turbulent plane’s motion for about twenty seconds before venturing to open the door.  The male flight attendant didn’t speak or look at me as I made my exit and lurched back to my seat.  Thank God I wasn’t in the front bathroom when the door flew open!

Did I mention vacations are supposed to be relaxing?

On Thursday morning of our vacation week, I woke up at 3:00 a.m. with wheezing on my chest.  Dave went to the Safeway after breakfast and bought Vicks Vapo-Rub, cough drops, and DM cough syrup for me.  I praise God that I felt fairly decent the rest of the time there and until we arrived home at 1:30 a.m. Sunday morning from the plane flight home.  Once home, my chest got so bad I called the doctor Monday morning, July 21, and was able to get an appointment late that day.  Diagnosed with bronchitis, I was given an inhalant treatment in his office, and three prescriptions.  My doctor said I likely contracted the virus on the plane out to Arizona.  That bronchitis (and sinusitis) kicked me hard for four weeks.  Soon after we were home, I also discovered that two tubes of prescription creams I was very careful to pack when we left Arizona were missing. I asked my doc to issue a new prescription for one of them.  The cost? A mere $118.00.  Dave said he thinks the TSA confiscated it.  Some plane ride, huh? 

We did have a good time in our rental house, and our view from the patio was stunning!

We had fun eating out together.  Rattlesnake, anyone?  They can have it...

Alissa and Nicole enjoyed several free end-of meal rounds of cotton candy (so did some of the adults!)

The young set went hiking early every morning, and sometimes Alissa and Nicole joined them. 

The Grand Canyon was quite an experience!

Montezuma's Castle was not a castle as we picture one.  But people lived in these high, dark places.

We took a group photo on our back patio by the pool and hot tub the last evening of our week before we had to fly home the next day.  At this spot, swimming and "cannon-balling" was great fun for the family at night, and some enjoyed the in-ground hot tub as well. The pool was lit, and stars twinkled overhead as warm breezes gently brushed our faces. Keith Yoder, our son-in-law, set his high-quality camera on a small tripod on the stone wall, set the timer, and dashed back in place to be included in the vacationer’s photo.

Credit goes to Keith Yoder for all the photos on this blog post.  Thank you, Keith!

I hope you had a great vacation this summer.  God bless you, dear reader!

Copyright © 2014 Elaine Beachy

Mother and Child

A news story on Manassas Patch caught my attention the other day.  A Fairfax, VA woman, Adrianna Teran, who reportedly gave birth to her child at home, has been indicted on charges of first-degree murder and child abuse in the killing of her baby last year, according to the Washington Post.  She walked into Inova Fairfax Hospital with the baby’s body in May 2013.  Police said a medical examiner ruled the death as a homicide and the cause of death was a blunt force trauma to the head. 

My husband Dave and I discussed our culture’s chilling disconnect between the sentence of first-degree murder for this mother, and the “legal” killing of a baby any time before it draws its first breath.  I felt I had to speak up, so I posted a comment on Manassas Patch. Needless to say, it drew some fire! 

I wrote, “Okay, so yes, what this woman did in killing her day-old baby is horrible, atrocious, and deserving of the sentence of murder.  But explain this: why is a woman not prosecuted for killing her baby in the womb?  Why isn’t she prosecuted as a murderer when “doctors” suck the brains out of her baby as it’s coming down the birth canal?  Why are abortion clinics allowed to exist?  Why is a mother encouraged to kill her baby in the womb if it’s inconvenient to give birth to it?  Hmm?  What an evil, double standard!  Abortion is murder, PERIOD!  Wake up, people!

Catherine R. from Fairfax wrote a rebuttal: “It’s not the same thing, Elaine.  Pro-Choice means you don’t ever have to have an abortion if you don’t ever want one.  But you are not entitled to force your beliefs on anyone else.”

Really?  I responded:

“It IS the same thing, Catherine.  Ending the life of your baby in or out of the womb is murder. I am not forcing my beliefs on anyone; you speak your mind, I speak mine.  The sad thing is, the baby has no “choice.”  It’s the mother who “chooses” to murder her baby. I know people don’t want to hear that, don’t like to hear that, but it’s the truth.  Pro-Choice, as you call it (I call it Pro-Abortion) gives the mother the legal right to murder her baby.  Sad day in America for sure!  Just because something is “legal” in our country does NOT mean it’s morally right.  And therein lies the problem.”

One person posting as “Vienna” agreed with me that abortion is murder.

Later, as I worked in the kitchen, I felt led to add this comment to Manassas Patch:  “I do want to add that for those women who’ve had abortions, my heart goes out to them, because I’ve personally heard friends say how their pain of abortion negatively impacted them for many years. They found forgiveness and healing of their soul when they asked Jesus to forgive them, because they were truly sorry.  Jesus will heal and restore all who come to Him.  There is a wonderful ministry called Sozo here in Manassas for anyone who desires inner healing from trauma of any kind.”  (Living Faith Church in Manassas provides the Sozo ministry).

The following quote is from Deborah K. (whose comment was deleted after posting, but still came into my e-mail).  “I think where Elaine and so many others are missing it is that Elaine calls Pro-Choice Pro-Abortion which it is not.  Pro-Choice is the right for the woman with the counsel of her family and doctor – if she so chooses their counsel – to choose what is best for her. There are times when a woman’s health can be severely threatened due to the health condition of the mother where the added strain of carrying a baby could harm the mother’s health.  Pro-Choice doesn’t mean Pro-Abortion.  Pro-Choice is the inherent right to make a decision for yourself and your unborn baby without interference from anyone else. And like Catherine said, Pro-Choice means you don’t ever have to have an abortion if you don’t want one.  There are too many people trying to force their beliefs (religious or otherwise) on others – and it needs to stop.  They wanted me to have the amniocentesis test when a blood test came back abnormal.  But with the amniocentesis comes the risk that you could potentially lose or harm the baby (a risk of the procedure.)  They (my HMO referral doc) told me, “But the baby might have Downs or club foot, etc.”  I then said that would be fine with me.  They said but you should have the test – and I said why would I put an additional risk onto the life of the baby if I’m fine with the outcomes you are suggesting.  I didn’t have the test, and the baby was 100% fine.  Beware of these referral places as they make money off every test they can convince a woman to have – they want to be able to bill back to the HMO.  Bottom line – I made my own decision without being forced to do something I didn’t want to do – an inherent right = FREEDOM.” 

Sandra B. entered the discussion: “Reasonable people can disagree when life begins.  Some believe it is at conception, some at time of viability outside the womb.  Unreasonable people try to push their beliefs on to others.  For those who decry abortion, I’m sure you also support sustaining life past birth, right?  -- including helping mothers and children who need food stamps, WIC, and health insurance, including expanding Medicaid, right?”

I replied, “Sandra, you said “Unreasonable people try to push their beliefs on to others.”  Aren’t you trying to push your beliefs onto others?  A battle of ideas and beliefs that goes back to the Garden of Eden has always existed.  Disharmony and arguments have always existed. Only God has all the Truth.  That’s why God, our Creator, gave us His truth by written Word so we would know the right choices to make for success and peace in life.

“God (not I) declares when life begins, in Psalm 139:13-16 (New Living Translation).  It says, “You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body and knit me together in my mother’s womb.  Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex!  Your workmanship is marvelous – how well I know it.  You watched me as I was being formed in utter seclusion, as I was woven together in the dark of the womb.  You saw me before I was born.  Every day of my life was recorded in your book.  Every moment was laid out before a single day passed.”  God says life begins at the moment of conception.  So I choose to believe what God says.  God has a good plan laid out for each person conceived, but when people choose to abort that God-given life, it hurts His kind and loving heart.  I wonder how many doctors, scientists, inventors of good things, etc, that would have blessed our nation and the world, were aborted?  I grieve with God for every lost life. 

“To answer your last question/statement, Sandra, YES I support sustaining life past birth.  I believe in helping the helpless.  Absolutely.  What I don’t believe in is a bloated bureaucratic system that rips off the tax payer and feeds itself by encouraging unnecessary dependence and disincentive in people – a system that deadens dreams and potential in generations of people.  God has answers for that, too, if our lawmakers would take them into account.”

Sandra B. replied, “Yup, just as I expected.  You get to choose who is deserving, post-birth.  You get to choose what is “unnecessary dependence.”  You might want to look up some quotes from Jesus.  Don’t remember him putting qualifiers on helping the poor.  In your system, the Government gets to choose how a woman handles her pregnancy, then tells her it’s her responsibility to raise the baby. Must be nice to have it both ways.” 

Sigh.  Do you see the battle we’re in, folks?  Total distortion of what I said and refusal to believe the truth shows hardness and bitterness of heart.  I am all for helping the truly needy.  She chose to deflect the original issue that abortion is murder, the taking of a human life, and respond with sarcasm.  The government has always had “qualifications” for receiving financial help.  And yes, the woman is responsible before God to either give the baby up for adoption or raise the child herself with the help of family and friends.  The government must not sanction the murder of innocent babies!

Now to the conjecture made by Catherine R. and Deborah K., that Pro-Choice means "you don't have to have an abortion if you don't want one."  Seriously?  That reasoning implies there's a law in our country that says you must abort your child, and the "Pro-Choice" crowd has to protect the woman from having one.  Are they living in China?  What twisted thinking.

I prayed for these women, that God would turn their hearts to humility, honesty, and an acknowledgement of the truth.  I pray for the day in our nation and culture when abortion will once again be considered murder and the diabolical atrocity that it is.

God bless you, dear reader! 

Copyright © 2014 Elaine Beachy