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There Are Still Good and Honest People Out There

January 14, 2013

I told a sweet friend of mine, that my next blog would be more positive, and I try to be a woman of my word.  On Friday,  I lost my wallet.  I went into full-blown panic mode, because my big fat Italian wallet held my life within its folds!  Every form of ID, as well as my purchasing power lie within.

After tearing my house apart, twice, I still had no luck, and it was over 24 hours since I had last seen it.  I thought it was gone for good.  The last time I had used it, was at a Redbox.  We live very close to that particular Redbox, so when my son went to return the game, I asked him to check inside the Walgreens to see if somehow, someone found and turned in my wallet.

When he came home, he had my wallet!!  I was so relieved, I know some of you understand that feeling!  Somehow, my wallet had fallen out of my truck as I got in.  I didn’t notice, because I was at the time, trying to break up a scuffle between two of my four boys.  None the less, the fact is, some good Samaritan found my wallet and did turn it in.  Everything was still intact, and it brought to light the fact that, A) Prayer works!  And, B) There are still good honest people in this world.

Of course there are!  I have many friends who I fully believe fit under this category and would do the same thing, if they came across a lost wallet.  I know I would.  But I also know there are just as many desperate and hurting people out there.  I suppose the chances are 50/50 that my wallet would be returned.

I think about the officer in New York who brought a shoeless, homeless man a pair of boots last year.  I think about the ladies who make beanies and blankets for premature newborns.  I think about the people who man the food banks, as volunteers, week after week.  I think about the blood donors around the world, which suddenly brings to mind another friend.  She recently donated her kidney to her step-father.  She also told me that now that I found my wallet, she would pray it would be filled to the point where I would be able to get a new(er) vehicle.  I think about the men and women I wrote about in my last blog.  They sacrifice their own lives for the lives of us all.

Yes, there are still plenty good people in the world!  So many nurses and doctors who go beyond their duties, to offer peace of mind and hope.    When I went into labor with my third son, it was seriously, the scariest moment I had experienced up to that point in my life.  My placenta detached and I was bleeding, literally to death.  By the time I was able to get to the hospital, I wasn’t well at all, and I was VERY scared for my baby!  Once I was in the delivery room, the doctor noted my panic and he did everything he could to bring me peace and calm, as they readied the anesthesia.  He turned on some music, the golden oldies from the 50’s era.  He said things to lighten the mood.  And then he drew an angel on my belly.  Don’t ask me why, but knowing that he believed in angels, made all the difference.  I knew I was in good hands.  And as they knocked me out with the IV meds, I fell into darkness, down seven stories, in peace.  (That’s what if felt like.  It felt as if I fell through the table and just kept floating down, level after level.)

My son was born not breathing, but they managed to get him to breathe, THANK YOU JESUS!!  They then took him to the NICU, where he would remain for nearly a month.  Since my first two births were text-book perfect, I was not doing well, emotionally.  I was able to take them straight home after my own recovery.  This little one required much more attention, medically speaking, and I was horrified when I saw him for the first time, tubes and wires all around him, some going through his nose and even into the top of his head.  I couldn’t do anything for my baby and this was not something I could bare.  (I was quite the control freak back then!)

This is not my little one, but looks exactly like he did the first few days in the NICU.

My pastor showed up.  He was a very large man, both in height, as well as weight.  I still remember the feeling I got from his giant hug.  I felt like a helpless child, and soon, I realized that is exactly what I was.  He told me that God had this.  He said to let go of the reigns and hand them to God, that He was in control.  It was the first time that I was absolutely powerless to do anything.  I hated it!  But, I trusted the words of my pastor, because I trusted God.  I knew he was right, and so I just put my baby boy into God’s hands and trusted God to bring him to perfect health.

Well, about two weeks passed, and I was finally getting to bottle feed my baby the breast milk I had been storing.  (Previously, he had to be fed through tubes that went up his nose.)  Things were looking up and I was going to get to take him home.  But then, the unexpected happened.

I arrived at the hospital, that was thankfully just up the road, just like every other day.  I knew my mother was finally going to get to visit, so I was feeling light and happy to finally see my mother and experience the comfort being with her would bring.  I got to the NICU hall and there she was, standing right outside the window where my little one’s station was.  The blinds were closed.  That was strange to me.  Of course I hugged my mother right away, but what happened next, was not expected.  I asked if she had gone in to see him yet.  She said that there had been complications, but not to worry, that they were operating on him right then.  I started to panic again.

He had been thriving, and I was so close to bringing him home.  Confusion and worry fogged my thinking.  She told me that she wanted the doctor to explain what had happened, but that she was sure he would be okay.  Apparently, they were letting him to exercise his lungs by allowing him to cry and cry.  Well, my little boy cried and cried and cried until he blew a hole in his paper-thin fragile lungs.  My first thought was WHAT THE HELL?!!  Hey, I’m only human, people!

Apparently, this is a common practice with preemies, but it made me very angry.  This was the second loss of oxygen my son had experienced in his short life.  We waited outside the NICU while they patched his lung back up.  Yes, they had to cut into his side.  Also not cool.  I was devastated for my child.  But the surgery was a success and we were able to scrub in and see him in no time, although at the time, it felt like forever.

Luckily, or should I say blessedly, that was the last problem my little tough guy had to endure and I was able to bring him home about a week and a half later.  I love God’s timing.  I don’t know what I would’ve done had my Mama not been there that day.

I am happy to report that my son is now 11 1/2 years old and out of all four of my sons, he has the most hearty, blood-curdling scream of them all!  Super powerful lungs on that one, yes sir!  And the only sign that there was ever anything wrong with him comes in the form of a tiny circular scar on his left side; it is so faint, it’s barely noticeable at all!  If you saw him running in the park with his brothers and friends, you would never know that he had such a rough start.

Time after time in my life, prayer has made the difference between joy and heartache, trial and error.  I have witnessed so many miracles, both great and small.  God brought my little one from the frail brink of death to full health.  God let a good Samaritan find my wallet, as opposed to a less honest, possibly more desperate individual.  And I could give you at least 100 more ways God intervened and provided the best of possible outcomes in my life.

I have shared a few songs I’ve written here before.  The first song I ever wrote was when I was in 8th grade.  It is called, “Pray, Pray, Pray”.  I am so grateful to live with the knowledge and to see the results of living a prayerful life and that is why I am such an advocate of prayer.  Talking with our Father and building that personal relationship changes everything.  Even people who do not give much credence to the power of God and Jesus, will be found requesting prayer when experiencing distress and/or hopelessness.

My question to those who ask for prayer, but deny the power of God, would be, “What’s keeping you from accepting that God is the One with all the power?”  You can live a good and honest life and still not know Jesus as Lord and Savior.  This much is true.  But in denying the power of Christ, and not accepting Him as Lord of All, you are making a perilous and stubborn decision that ends in death.  I realize that faith in the unseen seems illogical, but from my personal experience, logic is not needed, when concerning faith.  You have to overcome all the doubts and earthly understandings in order to surrender your life to the unseen, but truly All Powerful King of Kings.

I am grateful for reminders that goodness still exists in humanity.  But in God’s eyes, we are all sinners.  We may be good in our own eyes, but unless we receive the gift of salvation through Jesus Christ, and are wearing His cloak of righteousness, we are doomed to pay for our sins.  You see, when Jesus died on the cross, He did not do this for God.  He did this for us.  By shedding His precious blood for our sins, He bought and paid for us so that we could experience forgiveness and eternal life.

God cannot bear to look on a sinner.  He sees us as filthy rags.  I mean, just look what we’ve done to His perfect creation.  We steal, kill, lie and cheat.  There is nothing holy about us.  We’ve paved over so much of His beautiful creation.  We’ve polluted his skies and seas.  We’ve destroyed beauty in our efforts to make life more easy.

Jesus is the bridge to Heaven

But when we accept Jesus as our Lord and Savior, we are clothed in the cloak of righteousness, and God can smile upon us and bless us.  He can hear our prayers and will answer them.  And when we face Him at judgement day, Jesus will be our representative and will declare that our sins have been washed away.  Those who have not accepted Jesus will not have such a representative and they will be made to pay for their sins.

I have admitted in the past, that there was a time that I believed that Jesus could be one of several ways, but that over time, I realized the err in such assumptions.  There are many paths in life.  Many options of faith.  But straight is the path and narrow the way to heaven.  Jesus is that bridge, He is that path, and He is that way!

Are you on the right path?  Do you believe that your goodness will be good enough?

Until next time,

Vaya con Dios!


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