Tag Archives: Christianity

June 21, 2025 · 8:37 AM

Finding Strength in Joy Amid Life’s Trials

What exactly is joy?

I’ve heard it said, “The world didn’t give it to you and the world can’t take it away.”

Joy: a feeling of great pleasure and happiness. At least that’s what I read online. Sounds good to me, but I know from experience that pleasure and happiness don’t last. Let’s face it, most of us look to others to please us. We often look to others to make us happy. We also look for things to bring us pleasure and happiness. But if we’re honest, that in itself is fleeting, isn’t it? Before you know it, we’re needing another fix!

So, how is “joy” different?

The Bible teaches that the joy of the Lord is our strength. (Nehemiah 8:10b); I love that! But can one experience joy while going through everyday life with its many toils, twists, and turns? To be honest, during times of trauma, the thought of joy escapes me. I mean, I’m not necessarily thinking about joy during these times. Matter of fact, I may even kick and scream (inwardly), and even have actual meltdown periods, or panic attacks.

When I read my Bible, I am reminded that the joy of the Lord is my strength. This is what it means to me: it’s a joy unspeakable and full of glory!

I may not be able to explain it, put my finger on it, or even see it. But I know it’s there – I know it in my knower. (Bear with me, please, I’m fully aware this isn’t “correct” English.) But I just know that I know. It’s not an “in your face” kind of thing. It’s not necessarily giddiness. It’s not even a denial of difficulties. For me, it’s a reassurance that everything will be all right. I may not understand some things, even while having a breakdown, feeling sad, or grieving.

The pain is real. The battle is real. But so is the joy real. This joy is indescribable. Come hell or high water, I feel safe and secure in my Heavenly Father’s arms. It feels just like when I was a child in my earthly daddy’s arms. Even in the midst of pain and sorrow, here is where there’s strength and comfort. This joy floods the heart; it brings inner peace and strength, even though everything else around may be chaotic.

I didn’t always know this or believe this. But through my experiences, I’ve learned a few things. Learn to be still. Quiet. Wait on God’s perfect timing. Life happens. Happiness is fleeting. Pleasure is temporary. But the joy of the Lord remains constant regardless of circumstances and situations.

Joy is the best makeup – Anne Lamott

Excuse me while I put on some makeup.

Have you experienced this joy?

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2 Comments

Filed under Isaiah 61:3

Tagged as Anne Lamott, bible, Christianity, comfort, Faith, inner strength, inner-struggles, Isaiah 61:3, joy, life, Musing, personal

February 28, 2024 · 2:51 PM

Mrs. C

We affectionately called her Mrs. C. In her sixties, with remarkable zeal, she possessed a charisma and a gregarious personality. She was a Bible teacher, an author, a missionary, a powerhouse, and a woman of great faith. She exuded genuine friendship in a Godly persona and took me under her wings. She held many prayer meetings in her home. Often, she prostrated herself on the floor on her face, interceding on behalf of others. She became my lifesaver, my spiritual mother. I counted on her for spiritual advice and much-needed counseling throughout the years.

On one dreary afternoon, the sky, along with my hope and faith, grew overcast. Suffering from battle fatigue, I sat in Mrs. C’s den. I told her I was sick and tired of being sick and tired.

“I can’t take it anymore,” I confessed, wringing my hands.

Patiently, unassuming, and non-judgmental, Mrs. C handed me a tissue and gave me time to release the dread and pain in my heart.

“I’ve tried everything. Done all I know to do. Yet nothing seems good enough.”

“Has he stopped hitting you?”

I sighed, much relieved that he had. “Oh, yes.”

“Mary Ann, you know he loves you, in his own way,” she began, “but you have become ‘weary in well-doing.’ In your mind’s eye, you’ve conceded it’s not worth it.”

She honed in on my sentiments. I hung my head in shame.

“You know,” she insisted, “it is worth it all.”

At that moment, I wished I were stronger and smarter and that Mrs. C wasn’t so wise and couldn’t read me so well. “But shouldn’t this be a two-way street?” I suggested.

“Are you and the kids better off without him?”

I figured she knew the answer before I did. “We . . . we have nowhere else to go.”

“Are you better off without him?” she repeated and handed me the tissue box.

“I can’t afford to do anything else.”

“Are you better off without him?”

No,” I whispered and wiped my nose.

I felt weak and inadequate as a Christian wife. I struggled to keep a measure of peace and sanity in my household with four children. I was also tending to a man wrestling with his demons.

“Then, go home and be the best wife and mother you know how to be,” she said.

Sometimes, it’s easier to talk the talk than to walk the walk.

“But first,” she added, “I want to pray for you.”

That woman knew how to enter the Throne Room of God in her prayers. Electricity surged through my entire body when she touched me as she prayed. Before I left, she handed me her book, Wives, Unequally Yoked. I figured reading couldn’t hurt; plus, the title intrigued me. I’d already devoured The Total Woman, by Marabel Morgan. Much like my Bible, the pages were worn and underlined with a yellow marker.

I didn’t leave Mrs. C’s company the same way I arrived. Resolved in my heart not to become bitter, I determined to be better and left strengthened, with a made-up mind.

Excerpt from “Running in Heels: A Memoir of Grit and Grace,” Chapter 35

*I’ve always felt that* *Mrs. C was my person, who soon became like a spiritual mother to me. I went to her broken and wounded. She never made me feel less than. She believed in the best for me and all* *God had to offer. This lady was full of wisdom and knew how to bombard heaven on your behalf! How I miss our intimate conversations.*
{Mary Anne Copelin: Aug. 30, 1926 — Dec. 4, 2017}

Additional mentioned about Mrs. C here — Saying Goodbye For Now

My Friend, My Sister ~ an Answered Prayer

Again, left alone, I had no one to share my heart with. I regretted that I never stayed in touch with old classmates. I also regretted that I never finished school. It’s what he wanted. Although I had advanced to the tenth grade, I never went back, relying solely on Donny’s moral and financial support. I regretted that, too.

I felt my prayers answered the day a neighbor knocked on our door. I recognized her instantly. At last, someone my own age to talk to.

She was not much older than me. She was a friendly sort with deep-set, café con leche eyes. She had long espresso hair and a tan complexion. She wore blue jeans and a T-shirt. The warmth of her smile cast away my shadows. Liz sold Avon. Even though I doubted I’d be able to buy any of her products, I welcomed her company.

While Donny was engrossed in TV, she and I visited at the dining room table. We had coffee and slices of block cheddar cheese. We chatted about makeup and the latest perfume. After an hour, she dug deep when she peered into my eyes and asked, “Mary, do you know Jesus?”

“Well . . . I . . . I used to . . . as a kid,” I stuttered and hung my head.

She reminded me of God’s love, goodness, and grace.

Liz was my neighbor who soon became my sounding board and best friend. She made me laugh and forget my troubles. She made suggestions about hair and makeup. We went window-shopping at the malls, grocery shopping, and baked cakes together in her kitchen. Liz even introduced me to garage sale hunting on weekends. We started reading our Bibles over coffee at her place in the mornings. This happened after our husbands left for work. Her older kids had already trotted to school by then. Our preschool girls were close in age and enjoyed playing with each other.

Donny never said too much about Liz, which was fine by me. He once labeled her a “Jesus freak.” He usually made himself scarce whenever she came around, which was also fine by me.

Before long, I started sitting in on Bible studies, which Liz held with other couples in her apartment. Eventually, I attended her small church. I felt a sense of belonging there. The serenity was something I hadn’t known since living with my grandparents. I longed to return to the God of my grandparents. However, I needed to overcome the stinking-thinking about myself. I never felt worthy enough; may as well have worn a sign over me that read: Deflated, Dejected and Discouraged.

After our devotions in the mornings, Liz led prayer. She prayed that I’d learn to “let go and let God.” I wasn’t sure how to “let go,” let alone move on. Then, before closing our devotions, she always asked what my prayer requests were.

“I can’t stand Jerry . . . he’s a moron,” I blurted one day. “When he’s around, Donny drinks more. Jerry and him go bar-hopping and get into fights with other drunken bozos.”

“What do you want God to do?” Liz asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe Jerry needs to take a long walk on a short pier or something.”

She smiled.

I felt foolish.

She then asked if I had ever asked God to sever Donny and Jerry’s friendship. I never thought about praying that way. She said she believed we needed to be a family in the privacy of our home. We needed to avoid negative interference from an outsider.

A woman of simple faith, Liz started praying for that specifically.

Weak in my faith, I hoped against hope.

One autumn day, as the temperatures fell and the evening grew chilly, Jerry wanted “female companionship.” He borrowed my Plymouth Duster. He drove more than a thousand miles from Houston to Denver to get that companionship. Once there, he landed in jail, and the police impounded my car. Weeks later, Donny paid someone in Denver. This person got my vehicle out of impound. Donny then drove it back home.

Coincidentally—or by divine intervention—we never heard from Jerry again.

{Except from Running In Heels: A Memoir of Grit and Grace, Chapter 23}

Side Note:

The day I located my friend Liz on FaceBook and contacted her, joy flooded my heart. She lives out of town and drove through after attending a conference; we reunited at a local diner. We played catch-up over a glass of iced tea. We talked about the present, and before long, reminisced about the past, some thirty-plus years ago.

“I never expected anyone to come to my apartment. I certainly didn’t anticipate someone trying to sell me some Avon or to talk about Jesus.”

“Mary Ann, I had to come over,” Liz said, her eyes growing misty. “I used to hear you and Donny argue. Every time you two fought, I heard everything. I even used to hear him hit you … then to hear you crying.”

“I didn’t know that.” I glanced away and watched water droplets slide silently down my glass, like my tears so long ago.

“Whenever I heard the fights,” Liz continued, “I would lay my hands on the walls. I prayed for you. Then my husband would tell me to get away from there and to mind my own business.”

I studied my friend from long ago. “Well, I’m so glad you made me your business. When I needed a friend, you were there.”

5 Comments

Filed under Compassion, friendship

Tagged as alliance, bonding, Christianity, compassion, divine intervention, domestic abuse, Faith, friendship, girlfriend, Prayer, Running in Heels: A Memoir of Grit and Grace

October 11, 2017 · 8:41 PM

Celebrating Mama

Someone said, Crying is a way your eyes speak when your mouth can’t explain how broken your heart is.

We recently celebrated Mama’s birthday. While the company and the food were great, I saw Mama in a different light. It pained me to see her that way. Although she had a smile on her face, her eyes reflected pain and discomfort.

Mama is aging and more feeble with time. She’s more of a shut-in these days, and she can barely move. Many thoughts go through my head, along with memories of my difficult childhood past. But that was then, and this is now. Mama is Mama – and she’s my Mama. I’ll take her any way I can get her – flaws and all. Hell, I even have flaws! But what troubles me is not what she and I have gone through together; what troubles me is the present. She is afraid to say what ails her. She doesn’t like the idea of going to a hospital, nor the thought of possibly living in a nursing home one day. She’d rather suffer alone than discuss her ailments with a doctor. I don’t know what to do. She’s never been an easy patient, and she is stubborn.

I. Feel. Hopeless.

I’m praying that the Lord will show us what to do and that Mama will be at peace. I just want her to know that she’s loved and that we want only the best for her. I need her to feel safe and secure and to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that she does not have to fear. Fear has torment. It will consume the mind and crush any hope one might dare to have. Fear troubles the heart and makes one weary.

I believe God is bigger than our fears. I believe He wants us to cast all of our troubles to Him and not grow weary. We are not immune to the sufferings of this life, but because of the Lord, there is always hope. All He asks is that we put our trust in Him and lay our burdens down at His feet. He says to trust Him and lean not unto our own understanding. Not always an easy feat, I admit.

Words may escape me at times. I may grow impatient and miscommunicate my true intentions; my grit and courage may fall short. But while I have breath in my being, I will never give up on the goodness of God! We are a work in progress. I know He will make a way. Look how far He has brought us – He’s not finished with any of us yet!

I. Feel. Hopeful.

I choose to allow forgiveness to remain in my heart. While Mama is still here, I will let her know that she is valued and loved. While it’s true that our roles may have been reversed, she’s still my Mama. And you know what?

I. Still. Need. My. Mama.

So, Mama, I celebrate you. Hand in hand, we will find a way to make everything all right.

I. Love. You.

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“The moment I started it, I had echoes of ‘The Glass Castle’. This is recommended for anyone who loved Walls’ memoirs, as they have some strong parallels.” – Kath Cross (blogger).

10 Comments

Filed under Birthday Mama

Tagged as Christianity, familia, Family, forgiveness, inspiration, Musing, personal, reflections, Relationships

November 12, 2016 · 11:08 PM

When Trouble Comes …

trouble

Dear Readers:

What do you do when trouble comes? When dread clutches its icy fingers around your heart, or unimaginable images boggle the mind, what do you do?

I’ve been away a few days, but by the grace of God, I am back. Yes, an unforeseen event — beyond my control — brought me to my knees. It began when I received an unexpected phone call twelve days ago . . .

“Mom, come to the job site; Pops fell off the ladder–“

“What? No!”

“He’s not responding now, Mom. I need to call 911.”

By the time I arrive at the scene, paramedics surround my husband. They have him in a neck brace and on a gurney, asking him questions. He is in and out of conscientiousness, unable to say where he is or what has happened. At that moment, many things became a blur to me. I try to follow the ambulance to the Emergency Hospital, lest I become lost due to complete disarray and panic.

So there I sit in the midst of the storm, waiting and interceding: I can’t leave this hospital without him, Lord!

I soon received word that my husband suffers from severe injuries from falling off the 20′ ladder. Even though he missed the concrete, he sustained thirteen fractured ribs and partially collapsed lungs. A surgeon is assigned to Mark, and once in the ER, they insert a chest tube to inflate his lungs.

I call on family and friends to please pray for my husband . . .

When the accident occurred, my daughter and husband were working together. She joins me in the waiting room. “Mom,” she said, “when I got to Pops, he was praying, ‘Please help me, Jesus … heal me, Lord.'”

That piece of news soothes my soul — it comforts my heart, it encourages me — it encourages us all! You see, after his fall, my husband is unable to communicate, yet his spirit-man cries out to God for help!

This poor man cried, and the LORD heard him and saved him out of all his troubles. Psalm 34:6.

I stay in the ICU as long as I can before they send me home. Three days later, they transferred Mark to a private room with a common germ on the skin called MRSA (a type of Staph). I remain with hubby in his room for the duration of his stay. He is in a lot of pain and discomfort. The morphine pump doesn’t seem to be enough. Every day, several times a day, two or three blood samples are taken from different veins for blood culture. The only problem is that Mark’s veins are small, rolling veins, which eventually cause his arm to become tender and swollen.

We’re so blessed to have our dear pastors from church come by, as well as a few other visitors, dressed in gloves and gowns, to pray over Mark. On the fourth day, the doctor removes my husband’s chest tube, but he is not out of the woods yet . . .

Day Five: Mark experiences excruciating pain in his leg, so much so that his blood pressure elevates to a 103-degree fever. Still unable to sit up, they wheel him out on his bed for additional X-rays of his hip, femur, and leg. When they return, he is knocked out. In the wee hours of the morning, he’s awakened drenched in sweat, tugging and pulling off his gown, tangled with the wires he’s connected to. I buzz for the nurse and try holding him down until help comes. They cool his body, and when they use a wet cloth on his brow and neck, he says it feels good.

Day Six: The doctor leaves after checking in on Mark. That same hour, Mark says he feels a chill. I figure maybe his fever has worn off, and I cover him with another blanket. But he complains of still feeling cold and begins to shiver. Ten minutes into it, he takes a turn for the worse. I call for the nurse. She comes with a couple of extra blankets, telling Mark he’ll soon be warm, and leaves. Mark’s shivers become more vigorous and uncontrollable, and he even starts wheezing. After a few more minutes of shivering, he becomes unresponsive. I run out to fetch help.

The nurse comes in, rushes back out, and calls for a Code Blue. Within minutes, a rapid response team of ten to fifteen people arrives at Mark’s bedside, bringing along some emergency equipment; even the chaplain walks in. While the team is surrounding Mark, the chaplain is trying to speak with me. He asks if I am the wife. He says he can see how much love I have for my husband. But I don’t want to chat with him. I want to talk with Mark. The doctor comes and asks me what has happened. “You tell me,” I answered.

I quickly phoned my son, telling him of Mark’s condition and to pray. I remain near Mark’s bedside and caress his face while talking to him. And I look to Jesus, the Author and Finisher of my faith. I don’t know how many minutes pass before the doctor and the entire team work on getting Mark to respond. Thank God, my husband finally comes to!

More tests. They find that Mark has a bout of pneumonia, as well as an unknown infection in his blood. He is off morphine, and Norco is given for pain. Now they have him on a broad spectrum of antibiotics to treat his infections. Three days later, the infection he has is caused by Acinetobacter, a bacterium commonly isolated from hospital environments and patients in hospitals. In other words, this type of bacteria is frequently associated with healthcare-associated infections.

Day Nine: Mark can sit up in a chair for a short period. That evening, he is using a walker as we walk around the corridor. The hospital staff is amazed and delighted. It is obvious they adore my hubby.

It is of the LORD’S mercies that we are not consumed because his compassions fail not. Lamentations 3:22

Day Ten: Homeward bound!

I am happy to report that hubby is resting and quite content to be back home. I appreciate everyone who extended their love, prayers, and encouragement on our behalf. I may feel a bit worn out, but I am, after all, a grateful woman. We have much to be thankful for.

I once read, “It is hard to wrap your heart around trouble when it pierces your soul.” So when trouble comes knocking at your door, don’t walk it alone. Give it to God and reach out to others for encouragement and support.

He only is my rock and my salvation, My stronghold; I shall not be greatly shaken. Psalm 62:2

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Filed under Code Blue, crisis

Tagged as Accident, bacteria, Christianity, Code Blue, crisis, distress, Faith, health, hospitalization, ICU, infection, personal, Prayer, sickness

July 29, 2015 · 1:00 AM

UnMasked

Photo Credit: justposhmasks.com

All through my life, I’ve dealt with feelings of low self-esteem and self-worth. I felt undone, incomplete, or insignificant. Along the way, I realized this stemmed from my childhood. I did not ask for it. I certainly did not want it. But with an undeniably painful past and a seemingly questionable future, I muddled through life. I thought a man could save me, but he only tried to create me in his own image! I became his shadow, even worshiped the ground he walked on, subservient to his every whim. I was truly lost, with no identity, no voice, no me. Yet I held on, not wanting to lose him. This, by the way, is a perfect example of insecurity: the more easily threatened we are, the more insecure we are.

Beth Moore says, “Insecurity lives in constant terror of loss.” As I’ve mentioned before, I’ve been reading Beth Moore’s So Long, Insecurity with the subtitle You’ve Been a Bad Friend to Us. How I wish she had written this book 40 years ago! She says, “Insecurity is not only a woman’s battle.” She identifies insecurity as a “profound sense of self-doubt – a deep feeling of uncertainty about our basic worth and our place in the world. The insecure man or woman lives in constant fear of rejection and deep uncertainty about whether his or her own feelings and desires are legitimate.”

I thought about myself as a Christian, why, from time to time, do I still struggle with insecurities? Why does rejection crush me so? Why do I second-guess everything? Beth reveals an interesting point about herself in her book: “I not only lack security, I also lack faith. I don’t just doubt myself, I also doubt God about myself.

Now I don’t know about you, but that struck a chord in me!

She goes on to say how some of us never seek healing from God for our insecurities because we feel like we don’t fit the profile. But insecurity’s best cover is perfectionism. Now there’s a mask for you!

A person who has no self-worth or a low self-esteem

tends to hide behind a mask.

Note: Here’s a thought-provoking poem I came across: Don’t Be Fooled By Me

What masks are you prone to wear? Looking back, I recall hiding the pain behind my smile…

Don’t try to be somebody you’re not. No one is perfect. It’s okay to let your guard down. We will face difficult and troubling times. Just remember, God loves us just the way we are; He loves us too much to leave us that way.

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Filed under Beth Moore, insecurities, Masks

Tagged as Beth Moore, Charles C. Finn, Christianity, insecurities, personal, practical, psychology, rejection, self-doubt, struggles

June 18, 2014 · 11:16 PM

Did You Say, “Insecurities”?

So, I’m reading Beth Moore’s So Long, Insecurity. I’m not even past chapter four yet, and find myself re-reading and digesting the words on the pages. She states in her book that we all have insecurities, and most have enough insecurity to hinder us. As I reflect on whether I’ve ever felt insecure, I’m sad to admit that I’m well-acquainted with insecurity.

Beth Moore ties insecurity to a profound sense of self-doubt. Ouch! However, I think I already knew this. How many times have I determined to do something, only to change my mind? How often have I started a task only to lack the courage to move forward? My palms get clammy. My confidence deflates. My resolve wavers. My bravado crumbles. I bet I’m not the only one who struggles with this!

I’m a common woman sharing common problems seeking common solutions on a journey with an uncommon Savior.

The word rejection is also mentioned in the book, and that brings me to ask: Well, who in the world likes to be rejected? To the point where I sometimes think, if you reject me, I’ll go out of my way to prove you wrong—sometimes—despite my own hurt, creating my own misery. I can honestly say, I know my own flaws, or at least I’d like to think so. But the astonishing thing for me is reading what an insecure woman looks like:

She may easily cry, avoid the spotlight, and have a strong desire to make amends, whether it’s her fault or not. If someone gets angry at her, she has a difficult time not thinking or dwelling on it. The insecure woman sometimes feels anxious for no apparent reason; her feelings get hurt when she learns someone doesn’t like her, and she may even fear that her husband might leave her for another.

Talk about a lack of self-worth!

Well, I asked my husband what insecurities he saw in me. (Because after all, I know I have some.) And this is what he answered: The big one is when you feel like you’re not in control. Not having a say in something, and having a tendency to micro-manage. He said this goes back to my early years when others told me what to do and when to do it. What an eye-opener! While this was true during my childhood, it was also true in my first marriage.

Before I became a Christian, I struggled with insecurities, and now as a Christian, I still struggle at times. I learned a long time ago that I’m not perfect, but I’m forgiven. I’ve opened myself up to sharing some of these truths with you because I know they are life’s lessons. I’m still learning, and if there’s a pulse and breath in your being, then you are still learning, too. No one on this earth is perfect or has arrived. I’ve determined to work on my insecurities.

How about you?