Block Party

I can't even begin to tell you how happy I am and how wonderful today actually was.

Every time we go to the streets it's a different experience but today was something totally different.

This morning I pressed out over 60 hamburgers, Sharon had 80 hot dogs, the preacher gave us money, Unadia and Julia brought buns, chips, water and soda pops to us yesterday.

We loaded a big table, the grill, my music equipment, which took an hour and headed to Montgomery.

Stopped at the store where my daughter in law Katie Jo works and iced up all the coolers.  We had sweet tea and a cooler full of gatorade too.

Amanda was able to come with us and bring DayDay, Hunter's best friend, our future street preachers.  

Joseph Smith, his wife Tammy and their two daughters Kye and Trinity joined us for the first time and were such a blessing!

When we first arrived, all my confidence washed away, it just didn't feel right and I told Tammy just as much.

We started setting up and someone told us another church had come before us and set up all these tables of food and everyone had already eaten.  When you've been planning for weeks, spent plenty of money to make it happen, just arrived, the last thing you want to hear is everyone has already eaten.

It was all good, we got the music playing, fired up the coals and set the table up.

I spent a couple of hours the other morning on youtube checking out hip hop Jesus music and made a playlist.  I found some really good stuff.  I love the flavor of the hood and there's nothing worse than a bunch of christian folks showing up and playing the wrong kind of music.  LOL!  It was amazing!  I saw them bobbing their heads, dancing, smiling, knew they liked it.  Of course they did, I'm their people and I know what they like!

One of the guys came walking by with a beer in his hand and said, "I don't want you to see me with this."

I'd been waiting for that one.  I went over where they were all sitting and said to them, "You know I love you right?"  They all said yes.  I said, "You know I love Jesus without even telling you that right?".  They all said yes.  I said, "There is absolutely nothing wrong with drinking beer and anyone who claims they love Jesus who has ever come down here and made you feel weird about it, they don't know Jesus well enough."  I didn't go into the water into wine story, I just wanted to set them at ease.  You could see a huge sigh of relief come over the entire group.

They kept asking us what church we were with.  LOL.

I love that God's people do go out and do for the streets!

I'll be honest, it's always a question I don't know how to directly answer, because it's more than one answer, it's more than where we go to church, it's more than who we are, it's laying our lives down for others.  I tell them we go to Grace Life (Anything But Ordinary) in Prattville but I always let them know I'm from the streets and they are my people.

They always say stuff like "God bless you," or "God is going to bless you for this," and I love that.  He does bless us and we love them so much, they just don't understand.

I love them!  I swear I do!   I don't care what they are wearing, what they smell like, what their situation is, I love them.  I hug everybody!

We set up in the field next to an abandoned building where they all live, the lady at the liquor store let us use a plug and then the guy at the barbecue place let us plug in there because people kept hitting the drop chords and unplugging our power.  He also offered to let us use the facilities there, which was so nice, otherwise we would have been driving down the street to the mission.

Arthur stopped by.  I love Arthur, he's such good people, he's the guy who spent Christmas with us.

Cars pulled in and out all day long, children came and hung around, people were dancing and smiling.  Some of the people there called their children over to bring their children and we fed them too.

My feet were killing me!  I worked the grill and every single time I opened it, smoke slammed me in the face, even after we moved it to accommodate for the wind, so I still smell like smoke, the good kind.  We never tell anyone no, we always give them everything we have.  Sharon still has a truck load of stuff!

We met people we've never met before, got to hang out, do what we do and love on them.

I'm nobody special, but I love who God lets me be.  I love the people whose hearts are willing to do this with me.  I love every little thing about it, even the cost and the time invested.

God sends me the most amazing people to help, to serve, to donate and when I got home tonight, there was a bag of shoes sitting next to my front door.

I never would have guessed this is the life God had purposed for me.

When I was in the streets there was no way I would have believed it if you told me I would do street ministry in the future.

God took that horrible time in my life and turned those ashes to beauty.

They are always amazed when they find out I used to be homeless, I used to be a crack addict and a prostitute.  They stand there in awe and disbelief because they don't know her, they know the new creature that I am.  In those moments this bond is forged between us, an understanding, a realization, a spark of hope.

I'm still vibrating with excitement and happiness.

Today was such a good day!

We're going to do it again very soon.

Praise God!

HELL

The hell story has been employed by the church to coerce good behavior, to correct believing and submitting to teachings. It’s been a valuable tool to keep people in line and to scare people into faith.

Scaring the hell out of me never worked.

I grew up in a hell, fire and brimstone church.

I was taught I was unworthy, nothing better than a filthy rag.

I was made to believe I couldn't keep anything I owned.  I remember my ten year old mind wishing I didn't have to give up a dresser my daddy gave me (even though I knew he stole it), because that was the only thing he had ever given me.

Truth be told my daddy was scarier than any devil my mind could conjur up.  He made the devil look like the ice cream man.

He beat my mother, stalked us, was in and out of prison most of my life.  When I was in the first grade a diesel truck fell on him and I remember asking God to let him die, my own young heart believing I was going to hell for it.

When I was seven he kidnapped my brother out of the front yard and I was so scared I couldn't even scream as I was running into the house.  A seven year old has logic and rational.  I remember thinking he was going to come up through my grand daddy's bathroom floor and get me.  I clearly remember it, not wanting to be left alone in the room.

He always did stuff that made me feel uncomfortable about loving him, things I'd rather not talk about and things I never told my mother because I didn't want to lose her to the prison system for killing him.

I remember the youth pastor talking about the devil when I was twelve, causing me to have nightmares for weeks and my mother to have a word with him.

I remember a Sunday school teaching me there was only room for 140,000 souls in heaven and this struck great fear into my heart.  That same woman, whose nephew was in an accident, was worrying out loud on facebook about his soul and where he would go.  I comforted her with great insight and she deleted what had been said because she'd rather hang on to the lies she's embraced than believe God is that good and she didn't have to worry.

The devil wasn't shit, my daddy, that dude was scary.

When I was fourteen I tried to kill him, only to have my mother knock the gun out of the way.  This was way before they began to try children as adults, I would've been put in a juvenile facility until I turned eighteen and my file would be sealed and I would go on with my life when they released me.  

Going to hell seemed to be a small price to pay to be rid of that dude.

I grew up in church, my grand daddy took me, my grandmother forced me, my mother made sure I got there.  I loved Jesus with all my heart and all the other kids made fun of me for it.

In church I heard about my sin, was made to feel less than, walked out of church most Sunday's feeling like a total failure.

I was made to believe nothing I ever did would be good enough for God to love me.

If you're good you'll go to heaven, if you're bad you'll burn forever in hell.

I had a bad daddy, I knew what that looked like, so how was I supposed to believe a God that loved me?  A God that was going to burn me for all of eternity if I didn't love Him back and give up everything I owned.

The lies were so deep and treacherous I believed God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit were three separate beings until I was almost thirty years old!  God had killed his son Jesus and sent the Holy Spirit to comfort us about it.

It's bad enough the lie has been told to begin with, but then you have the crazies who come along with their stories about God taking them to hell.  They give all these crazy accounts of what they saw when they were there, souls crying out, people burning and screaming.  It's like a corporate hallucination that has taken place.

I learned little more than condemnation, judgement and suffering from the church.

One week I walked out feeling great, the rest of the time I just knew I wasn't going to make it.  That's how they do it, they give you this empowering sermon one week, one that makes you feel like you can save the world, then they deliver all kinds of poison the rest of the time, making you feel like a bug about to be squashed underneath God's feet, because He hates your sin and you are so unworthy.

I was a stripper for years after my first husband divorced me, leaving me homeless with three little boys and a grandmother who didn't want a stripper living in her house.  What would the people at church think?  Good christian that she was, who talked bad about everybody she ever met, treated me like dirt because I was pretty, called me a jezebel my entire life, never mind every picture ever taken of her she had on skirts so short you could see her panties and my mother was the daughter of her sister's husband.  I remember her and her friend on the phone every Sunday evening gossiping about everybody they could think of, good christian women.

Whatever.

In hindsight I see how she lacked love for anyone but herself.

 This was the beginning of a long cycle of homelessness and a downward spiral that sent me into the streets, I got strung out on crack, I was a prostitute, had my kid all messed up on dope with me and lived in a tent in the woods for more than three years.

Talk about hell, I was living in it.

Hell is every weirdo in town wanting you to do things for money, so they can get their kicks and they don't want to pay you what you're asking and they might very well kill you because you're nobody.

Hell is watching your eighteen year old son get high and thinking he's never going to be anything but a junky the rest of his life and it's all your fault.

Hell is falling in love with a man more messed up than you are, who has nothing to offer you and spending 15 years with him, 11 as his wife and he never gets better.

Hell is waking up one day and realizing your two youngest sons are grown because you've spent ten years of your life destroying it and the only good thing you did was find a way for their daddy to take them.

Hell is the place Jesus came and got me from when I wasn't even looking for Him.

Hell is every moment of my life I spent not knowing how completely and perfectly loved I was, every time I didn't cry out to my Daddy to help me, because I was fooling myself into running from Him and didn't understand His unconditional love for me.

Hell is the place I came from, not a place I will ever go again.

I know how good my Father is and I know a good good Father would never torture and torment His children, even though my own earthly father did.

Hell is other people's nonsense because they've embraced the lies and won't even open themselves to learn something new.  Hell is the constant back and forth of biblical idiots playing theological ping pong.

Hell is someone brow beating me because they disbelieve God is that good and I couldn't possibly know what I'm talking about, or even know God.  Hell is when I want to go through the computer screen and choke some idiot that's condemning me and telling me all about myself, because they want to be right.

Hell is the stupidity the church has been spoon fed for over two thousand years, lie after lie, half truth after half truth.  Hell is a word some knucklehead threw in there because we don't even have the language to bring it from the Greek and Hebrew into the English language properly.  

Feeling sorry for myself is not an option

Until I hurt my foot, I had no idea what a busy person I am and how I don't know how to stop or slow down.  Today I'm convinced I've hurt the other foot trying to protect the injured one.  Man oh man, this is not what I wanted to be doing, laying in bed, using crutches, barely getting around.
I'm not a lay around and do nothing person.
From the minute I roll out of bed until I lay back down I'm up, I'm busy, I've got stuff to do.
Funny how there are things you don't know about yourself until certain situations arise.
I'm doing my best to ignore the chatter box.  It's over there saying all kinds of things, telling me what I know and trying to trick me into being worried about it.  You can't talk to the chatter box.
It's getting old, this being hurt.  I started working out and this has shut that down, I thought I was getting better but I'm not.  I finally gave in and got the dang cortisone shot, but it is what it is and this is not going to go away overnight.
Man!
My crew is all excited about this upcoming street party and I don't even want to talk about it, much less think about it.  We've just come from the streets yesterday, need a day or two to clear my head and regroup.  The streets aren't going anywhere.
I love them, they are so gun ho.
So, here I am, halfway through a painting I put away because I couldn't sit in the chair that way any longer.  I'm sitting on the bed with the laptop, everything within arm's reach, it's cold today and I can't seem to get the temperature in the house right, one minute I'm freezing, the next I'm sweating.  The kids came and took over the tv in the living room so I moved my party in here.
I'm working on a letter for my friend whose in the feds, the dog is sleeping at my feet, and I'm reeling from the fact this is not me.
Can't stop won't stop, its a for real thing for me.  LOL.
The first time this happened I spent the afternoon crying and feeling sorry for myself, because I didn't have any other way to deal with it.
I'm the mama!  I take care of everybody!  How do I let others take care of me?
You know?
I think of others who have limitations and I admire them so much, their courage and bravery and that can do spirit.
This is not going to beat me, but it's really kicking the crap out of me right now, mentally and physically.
I'm sure God thinks its pretty hilarious at this point, my roller coaster emotions, my overwhelming need to be doing something.  The kitchen needs to be cleaned, the dogs have to be tended to over and over again all day long, so much I could be doing, yet here I sit.
There's no room in my body for sickness, but ignoring aches and pains, struggling through this has shown me, I can't overlook it, I can't pretend like it's not there, I can't get past the pain and keep going.
So many things we experience in life that totally contradict everything we think of ourselves as God's people.
Feeling sorry for myself is not an option, not today anyway.

Roxanne

The streets were alive and well today.  Everyone seemed happier than usual, hungrier than usual and there was plenty of laughing and joking around.

I stopped and gave this one guy a plate, it was so precious.  He said, "That's so nice of you."  A few minutes down the road someone at the Salvation Army pointed him out and I was so pleased to announce we'd already found him.  He's very special, in that beautiful way only God can make a person special.

I'm still overwhelmed with love for him.  My heart is full to bursting for each and every one of them.

I was driving back, minding my own business and Roxanne came on the radio.

Roxanne you don't have to put on the red light
Those days are over you don't have to sell your body to the night
Roxanne you don't have to wear that dress tonight
Walk the streets for money you don't care if it's wrong or if it's right

Roxanne You don't have to put on the red light
Roxanne You don't have to put on the red light
Roxanne (put on the red light)
Roxanne (put on the red light)
Roxanne (put on the red light)
Roxanne (put on the red light)
Roxanne (put on the red light) Oh

I loved you since I knew ya
I wouldn't talk down to ya
I have to tell you just how I feel
I won't share you with another boy
I know my mind is made up so put away your make-up
I told you once I won't tell you again it's a bad way

In that moment it was my Daddy talking to me, reassuring me, wrecking me to the deepest part of my soul.

I don't have to be her anymore, not ever!

I hated her!  She was pathetic and weak and used up.  She had no self control, no self worth and no identity.  She chased the one thing that would never satisfy her for years, let it destroy her life, her family, everything she'd ever stood for.

I'm still overflowing with tears and thankfulness and resolve.

I get to be someone so brand new!

I am the daughter of The King!

It's hard to even try to put it into words right this minute, tears still freely streaming down my cheeks.

What a beautiful story He's writing about my life!

He sang that song to me and I smiled and cried and tried to see the road!

My life overflows with beauty and the ashes have long blown away on the winds of change.

I loved you since I knew ya, I would talk down to ya.

Wow just wow.

What a mighty God we serve.

You don't have to wear that dress tonight.

Romance people, He's giving me romance.

What Do You Have To Give?

When you're driving down the street, what do you see?

Are you intent on where you are headed and you only see the streets and the cars around you?

What do you see?

I see homeless people.  I see panhandlers, beggars, prostitutes, drugs dealers, street people.  I see them everywhere I go!  I know the place to go and look for them.  I could be in a strange city and still know where to find these people, to see them and know them

I've talked about it before, after seeing a woman sleeping on the sidewalk, in Atlanta, right next to traffic flying by to get on the expressway.

We all have different passions, interests and gifts, but I see street people.

My people.

I don't even have to look for them most of the time, God points them out to me.  He reminds me how much He loves them and how important they are to Him.  He reminds me how far He's brought me and how much I mean to Him and together we love them so very much.

I love them!

They are my people!

I am one of them!

You leave the streets but they never leave you.  Your life changes and becomes something else, but the street is still there, right below the surface letting you know it's not going anywhere and it will welcome you back.

Every Sunday I accept that invitation.

I go back to the streets.

I know people think I'm crazy but it is absolutely the best thing that happens to me all week long, besides my love affair with Jesus.  I love church but I belong in the streets.

I'm not afraid of the drugs dealers or the pimps and some of them have come along and been kind right back to me.  I'm not afraid when the police roll up on us, because they know what we're doing and they have no problem with it.

I love it when they ask me for things others have given me to take.  I love it when they all want to hug and tell me they love me and there are smiles everywhere.

I love the crew has assembled to love them as well, because man oh man do I love my people!  The Castrogiavanni's come all the way from Prattville, 50 miles one way, to be a part of it.  My girl Sharon is so gung ho you just about can't stop her.  There are others willing to step in when I need the help and I love all of their hearts so much!  It's important to me!

The generosity and hearts of others make it possible week after week and now we've been doing it so long, they don't even care if we have anything they are just glad to see us and be loved on.

Even the girl I had a falling out with about the socks, asked me for a hug, told me she loved me.

I tell people I do it with nothing, but I don't, I just do it with very little money.  I do it with everything I've got.  I do it with the donations of others.  I do it with the most genuine love God gives me to share.  I don't care what they smell like, how long they've been wearing the same clothes, I do it with great love and I hug everybody that wants one!  I take pictures because I love them and want others to see them and love them as well, not because we are trying to look like we are special.

My people!  My heart bursts with love over and over again, because they are God's people.

Jesus loves them!

We took jeans out this past Sunday and they went crazy.  We're building bags starting tomorrow, to make sure each and every one of them has their own bag, with personal hygiene items, clothes we know fit them and they need, mre's, water, everything we've got to give right now.

It's amazing when God points out one to me, like He did today and I had just come from lunch with Sharon, with a box of food, had water in the truck, gave him a box of cookies to stick in his pockets.  I've seen this boy before many times, but every time I turned around to go back, he was gone.  Today was the day I finally got to bless him, to hug him, to ask him where we can find him on Sunday, to continue being a blessing to him.

What do you have to give?

You have more than you think.

There they are standing on the side of the road, in need, people Jesus loves.

The Darkness That Is Today

I have my first appointment on the 5th, at 1 o'clock.

I'm going through several things at once and that doesn't help a single thing at all!

Just came from the foot doctor, no better, had to get the shot this time, over emotional about it.  

As soon as I hit 50 the hot flashes started again, which totally ruin the already sleepless nights I have.  I'm sleeping in shifts these days.

I hate how the depression makes me feel like a phony.  I spend my entire life trying to help others, to encourage others, to be a positive vibe in a negative world and in comes this other stuff I have no way of really explaining or getting rid of.

I'm supposed to be delivered.  I'm supposed to be free of things of this nature.  There's no room in my body for sickness, so why is this brain of mine still malfunctioning?

Last night my son came in my room, asked me if I was okay, saw that I wasn't and quietly shut the door, leaving me to let the tears flow freely.

It totally makes me feel like a hypocrite, to tell people not to worry about things and then this thing hits me like a freight train.  To tell them how to be happy, to be peaceful and have joy and then I'm all over the place emotionally.

I can't control it and isn't that how we are hard wired?  We want to control everything and everyone and we're not in control, not even for a second.  

There are those who will say the craziest things about this, especially where God is concerned.

Yes I'm healed, yes I'm whole, this is a symptom of something else.  A brokenness I'm not supposed to have.  Right?  

I believe in God, I believe in all these others things, then why is my brain still so screwed up?  I wish I had the answer to that question.  It doesn't shake my faith and the opinions of others don't shape my life, but what's the answers to the questions?  I'm not above cheating to know the answers right now.  Can I look at your page?

I get it why others don't talk about it. 

No one wants to be the crazy girl, or guy.

No one wants others treating them a certain kind of way because they are off kilter.

People look at you sideways often enough as it is.

I don't have the answers, I don't have control, I never did, but I'm seeking them.

He says knock and it shall be opened to you, seek and you shall find.

I'm seeking answers.  I'm seeking understanding.  I want to know why this is happening to me after such a long time of feeling so well.

It totally explains my obsession with other thought patterns right now, feelings I can't control, crazy ass thoughts popping into my mind.

This is real, it's happening to me, I can't stop it and I can't control it, so I have to know the answers!

So often we push this stuff aside and try to medicate, to numb the pain, to escape the ugly reality of it all.  We hide from others because there's enough voices talking inside our heads, we don't need anymore negativity, or stupid responses, even when they are well intended.

There's a saying that the road to hell is paved with good intentions.

I often wonder if this is how I got started doing drugs, medicating, numbing the pain, escaping the opinions of others, just trying to make it through each and every day.  Other times I feel like it went away because I wasn't doing drugs anymore.

Have I been lying to myself all this time?  Has what appears to be wellness only been a facade?

The chatter box is our worst enemy, never saying anything nice, never encouraging and I do my best to shut that thing down, but there are other voices and sometimes one will shout loud enough for me to hear it.

The other night this voice came to me talking about getting high, showed me pictures, cause certain emotions to rise up inside of me and this other idiotic voice chimed in saying, "Yeah I remember that, would be good to feel that way again."

Bullshit.

Nothing about getting high felt good, it was a vicious never ending cycle of misery and chasing something that wasn't there to begin with.  It's a lie of the worst kind, promising something it's never going to produce and twisting your life into a nightmare you have no way of escaping.

If you're struggling with this, so am I.  If you're looking for answers, so am I.  If you don't get it, I don't either.

I know the voices are there, but you don't have to talk to them, you don't have to receive what they are saying and you don't have to be defeated, even though you don't have a clue what's really going on.

This is not going to beat me.  This is not going to be a mystery forever.  I still believe, I'm still whole, I'm still who I was  before the crying came around again.

I'm also wise enough to know to talk about it, to be open and honest with everyone, especially myself and even when I feel like a hypocrite, I'm going to keep encouraging others, building them up, giving them strength to fight with, all the while in the midst of my own great battle.

There Are Days When I Wonder

Not too long ago Facebook did an update and if you ask me my page has been all messed up ever since.  

There are times when I sit down to post something and wonder who is actually seeing it because I sure did get a lot more response before this update. 

Is it worth it?  Is there anyone out there?  Did anyone see that?

We all have a voice and things we want to say to the rest of the world, but what if we're only talking to ourselves?

There are days when I wonder!

I've changed the time of my videos, simply because it's more convenient for me right now and I don't want to neglect encouraging others.

There are times when I'm totally blown away at the response of others and times when I wonder if they are even out there.

My youngest son has become community minded recently.  He works at UPS and they are planning a 5k walk to benefit breast cancer.  I'm not sure how to help him achieve his goal of people simply showing up, because they are so bad about showing up for everything else.

Don't get me wrong, I know who my folks are and who shows up for me, but how do you get more people to do the same thing?  How do you motivate them to get outside their little lives to do bigger things?

I wish I had the answer to this question, because it's one I've asked a lot over the past year.

My own ministry has slowly began to grow and change and God has sent me people to help.  I am so thankful for them, for their generosity, for the lengths they go to to make total stranger's lives better.  They reach far and wide across two states.

We do what we want to do, we find the money to do what we want to do, but there are times when my heart is completely broken.  Love requires participation.  Love requires showing up and love is an action word.  I can see those who love me, by their presence in my life.

I remember going to the street, just the baby and me, wearing a boot, rain or shine, to do what needed to be done and there have been so many who have said, "I want to go with you some time," who haven't.  I remember feeling alone and disappointed.

Over time I've learned you can't expect anything from anyone, but it doesn't stop me from feeling a certain kind of way at times.  I'm still only human.  I have emotions and feelings and both are usually raw and exposed.

I'm growing, learning new things every day, doing what I do.

God is taking me different places, to different people, enlarging my territory.

He's sending me in my own direction most of the time and those people who I used to be disappointed with would just slow me down at this point.

I know whose in my corner, even though I don't know who all is watching.  I know who is willing to go the extra mile and give away from themselves.  I'm amazed how big my inner circle keeps getting because the world is bigger than the group I attend church with.

My life is not just about me.

I'm living in expectancy rather than expectations.