“CHUCKIE” – Everyday in Her Home

Verbal Abuse Hurts Too
courtesy photobucket.com
I had been aware of one of my dental assisting students becoming more and more depressed and sullen.  I’ll call her Abby, for now.

That she is beyond bright, is exhibited by her homework, but her usual pert participation in class began to wane. Constant headaches and nausea overwhelmed her.  Driving 90 minutes from Sacramento to Modesto to get to the class was becoming a challenge twice a week. 

The thought crossed my mind a dozen times, and I had said nothing until one day it was evident that God wanted me to intervene.  When I asked Abby if she was pregnant, her face fell.  In denial?  Yes she most definitely was!

Of course, she’s unmarried and living with her boyfriend.  I’ve talked with him a number of times.  He really does love her and is taking good care of her, but over the course of the past 11 weeks, I have discovered that there are so many other dynamics involved.  For one, I know she feels guilty about her lifestyle, but helpless to change it.

Abby has a mother and her father, surprisingly, is a dentist in a large California prison.  According to my student, though, both are overly negative and very depressing to be around –  therefore, not in her life.

Her father scoffed at her the last time she saw him.  She mentioned that she would like to learn to be a dental assistant.  His reply?  That she would never be good for anything except retail.   She was crushed, and her itty-bitty bit of self-esteem plunged even lower.

Everyone seems to flourish in the positive environment which abounds at my dental assisting school.   In the current class, there are only 6 other students, so the attention they receive is very personal. Each one feels special.  Abby has mentioned over, and over, just how much this has helped her push ahead.

My instructor has found several opportunities to interject things about God.  One day in particular, the students were discussing depression.  The instructor let them know in no uncertain terms that if they would allow God in their lives and let Him take over, they wouldn’t need any pills or antidepressants! 

Could I hear a pin drop?  Indeed!   The whole class became very wide-eyed and still…  We just let it sink in…..then jumped right back into the lesson. It was pretty funny!

God has opened other doors with each of our students, and in the most unexpected ways.

Last night, while she was waiting for an  x-ray machine to open up, I sat with Abby. She expressed her appreciation of our open communication and of my support and positivity.   She looked better than she had in many weeks.  We talked about changing things in her generation and the plans God has for her.  She still wishes that her mom could be there for her.

When I mentioned that God often places significant–others in our paths and how He can love us through those special ones, tears welled up.  They spilled onto her lap from a down-turned head.

I told her about my special “mother,” Hazel Moon, who God brought into my life to help shape me up!  I let her know that He never wastes resources and often these connections are divine and long-lasting. 

Abby talked about going to church and her hypocritical parents.  She spoke of abuse and constant belittling.  She wanted nothing to do with church. 

When she found herself pregnant a year ago, her mother verbally battered her and kept insisting that she get an abortion.  Her father offered nothing better.

Soon she found that she, and her little body, could not cope.  She finally had a miscarriage.  The emotions that ensued were unbearable.

We were quiet for a couple of minutes. Then Abby’s sorrow turned to anger.  Suddenly she sat up straight and said, “ What kind of a mother does this”?



A Chuckie in the Home
courtsy Photobucket.com

She recounted how that when she was little, her mother would grab a blouse belonging to her or to her sister.  With a huge butcher knife, she’d begin stabbing and slicing at it.  Sinister laughter accompanied a frenzied profile.  Her eyes and evil smile held their fearful attention!

My skin crawled at the story.  Apparently this was only ONE of the twisted ways the mother used to keep her girls in line. 

Every little child’s nightmare……  Abby had “Chuckie” living in her own house!

I didn’t let that information incubate, but jumped right in so that the enemy had no glory! 

“Did you know you can change it in your generation”? I offered.

She looked startled. 

I told her about the fall, the curse and generational curses that plague families.

The emphasis was the SHE could change things in her generation, but that she would have to include God in her life and trust Him to guide her.  God’s love began to pour over her.  It was obvious. 

In the short time we had together, there were so many things shared, that I knew The Holy Spirit was orchestrating the flow.   I couldn’t begin to reconstruct all that passed back and forth. 

Only God. Only God. 

He certainly cares for His little ones.  Those things that were a curse?  They are well on their way to getting reversed in Abby’s life.

It was time to go, but later I received a text on my phone.  It was Abby, thanking me.

And me?  I turned around and began thanking My Father.     He does all things well.

This post is shared at Hazel’s: Tell Me a Story

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I Hope He Felt Like a King (2011 Repost)

 

Homeless man
courtesy free clip art

“How pathetically emaciated,”  I thought to myself.

My husband was talking to me, but his words drifted from my ears as my attention turned to a small, dirty, skinny figure with wildly matted gray hair.  I couldn’t tell the gender but this figure was hunched over the public garbage can on the sidewalk, near the curb.

Randy and I had just come from a matinee of the new movie Courageous and were discussing things. 

I’m not so sure why this guy was invisible to everyone else walking by, but he wasn’t to us.  Obviously, God put him in front of us to do something.

“Look” I said, “Let’s get him some food.”

Randy approached cautiously and introduced himself, extending his hand.  This diminutive man extended his blackened hand slowly, eyes wide.  His name was Simon.  I reached out my hand as well as Randy introduced me.  Simon was very reluctant to touch mine with all his filthiness.  I grabbed his hand anyway, smiled and shook it!

“Wouldn’t you rather have something from inside here?” Randy asked, gesturing toward a shop famous for juicing.  There was nothing else close by.  “Taken-aback” could hardly describe this fellow’s reaction. 

Still a little stunned, Simon followed us inside while I marched up to the counter.  The little girl looked at us and then at him.  He was a horrible sight, for sure, head downcast, shuffling behind us.   We got on either side of him, blocking curious onlookers.  

“We’re going to get him a little something to eat”, I responded to her inquisitive eyes. 

The food selection was limited, but we managed coffee, a muffin, some Protein bars for later and – – a banana.  Simon wanted a banana.

“This seat has your name on it,” said Randy rather loudly. 

By now all eyes were on the three of us.  Obviously we were the subject of speculation.  Simon was tenuous, but he sat. 

As I continued to bring things back to our table, the two girls behind the counter couldn’t seem to do enough to help us.  The one who waited on me directly began to cry. 

“I love it when people do this kinda stuff” she blubbered.  “You just don’t see it enough.”  She kept going on with things like, “you guys are so great,” – – this is wonderful” and so forth.

Among other things, I told her that God has been good to us, and that we had to extend His love in return.  She just stood there staring and shaking her head.

Simon’s vision wasn’t so good.  He nearly knocked over my coffee.   When he went for his muffin, I about gagged!  Those hands!  Up close!  Gross!  I hadn’t been able to wash mine yet either. 

“Simon, they have a really nice bathroom – – why don’t you go wash up before you eat?”  I offered.

He stopped, as if to process this monumental suggestion.   “Right,” he mumbled.  “Wash your hands before you eat – – that’s right – okay.”

Off he went.  Several minutes later, I started to get concerned.  No Simon. 
 
After ten minutes, I got queasy and the “what-ifs” pushed me to go check.

As I got up, the bathroom door burst open, and a clean little man with blue-gray eyes emerged.  His clothing was righted – sleeves rolled up. The ratty coat was off and draped over his arm.  Slicked-back hair was not unlike those wild-yet-tame haircuts of some of today’s Celebes.  I stared – – -.

What a change!  Time and hunger had taken its toll, but one could see that this fellow, was once – – dare I say it – – even handsome.  What had happened?

Simon grabbed his chair and sat up straight, this time reaching for his food with confidence.

When I told him that God had sent us to feed him, his eyes went back in time.  I waited. 

“I used to go to youth group – -”  his voice faded. He was somewhere else.  I prayed.

Randy had to run to pick up the truck before we got a ticket.  Sitting and sipping, I stayed quietly with Simon.  God was dealing with him, I could tell. 

A couple of hecklers took the table nearby.  Snide comments and looks were tossed in our direction.  I asked God to cover us.   Suddenly someone’s phone rang.  The guy with the ‘attitude started in,

“I am…..the coffee shop….no …I will….no!   Okay…okay!   I’ll come home!”

Those two men fairly bolted out of that place.   Evidentially the “other half” on the other end of the phone wasn’t too happy. 

I got a big snicker out of that one!   “Thanks Lord!”

Randy called me on my phone and it was time for me to leave Simon.  I explained to him, gave him some final encouragement and a few dollars.  The girls behind the counter were still watching.  I charged them to make sure he had a place there until he was done.  They said they would make sure.

Both Randy and pondered the situation, and, as always, I wish I could have done more.  We prayed that the Lord would send a “Laborer-of- the-Harvest” to Simon.

Later that evening, God began speaking to me about something.  He reminded me that we acted for Simon, much like the Holy Spirit does for us.

We stood up for Simon, and because of our presence, he could enter into a place that he knew he could not go otherwise.  He was welcomed because we stood at his side.  He received service because we ordered, and paid and sat down at the table with him.

Simon humbly received our gift and followed our suggestions so he could be made acceptable to those others who were, and would be, eating in the establishment.  By the time we had to leave, unless one looked very closely, they would not have been able to tell that Simon was a destitute, homeless individual.

His face and hands were washed and cleaned.  He sat with shoulders high and erect, munching his food and drinking his coffee.

I hope he felt like a King – – at least for a while.

Thank God for the Precious Holy Spirit.  He is our Re-reward – our rear-guard!  He comes up beside us.  The Bible calls Him our Paraclete:  our Advocate – our Helper – our Comforter.

I continued to ponder.  Goosebumps prickled my arms and neck.  Paraclete also means, “The Summoner.”

How fitting.  Hadn’t we summoned Simon to a better way?  Hadn’t we stood by Him?  Hadn’t we given him comfort and help?  

How much MORE does The Precious Holy Spirit do for us and act in our behalf?

I am humbled . . . and amazed….

“Father God . . . thank You for your amazing gifts….and….bless ( empower) Simon.  Draw him to the full, deep and clear knowledge of Salvation”

This post is shared at: Tell Me a Story

This post is also linked with Joan Davis at: Sharing His Beauty