My Goal is to Let them Go!

a let go of the past

My Goal is to Let them Go!

Past rejections, let them go
They can’t control you, so let them flow
So far away, no more they’ll scar
They have no power, to hurt and mar

Jesus freed you, let Him heal
His Life within you, will now reveal”
How close to you, He’ll always dwell
Assuring you, all fears He’ll quell

Past mistakes are over and done
You are more than their total sum
Assaulting thoughts, try to condemn
Don’t yield at all, just run to Him!

Your were always, special indeed
God’s strength is what you really need
Accepting you with imperfection
He’s given you His own reflection

Guard your heart and bolt it tight
Think God’s thoughts, walk in His might
You overcome, by what He did
You’re blessed, you’re loved; you are His kid!

By Nancy Kehr 3/21/11


Fill Me Up On the Inside

a fill me up lord

Fill Me Up On the Inside

Fill me up on the inside
Help me to give up control
Restore the fellowship I lost
Spirit, and body and soul.

Lord I need You to Help me
Think on the things that are true
In my own strength I can’t make it
Help me draw closer to YOU!

Holy Spirit please guide me
To a place that is higher than me
I need Your faithful protection
As I walk toward my victory

I will be quiet and listen
Your word will clean out all the dross
Your Healing and Your restoration
Will lessen this burden of loss

Jesus You gave me so much
When You gave me new life and new birth
I’m trusting you now with my whole self
In You I have purpose and worth!

by Nancy Kehr 2-16-11

I Don’t Have Amnesia, But Who Am I Really?

a child hushing baby

I Don’t Have Amnesia, But Who Am I Really?

(A Mother’s Day Tribute to Hazel Moon) by Nancy Kehr

Children get a lot of things from their mothers!

One of my daughters became proficient at putting her little hand on her hip and cocking her little head to the side whenever she became indignant.  She was only two-and-a-half.

Hmmm….I wonder where she got that?

After retrieving another of my five children from the nursery at church, the attendant motioned for me to come inside.

“Look!” she chuckled.

There was my toddler, standing over a loudly crying child. With her little pointer finger extended and waggling slightly just in front of her mouth, she chided the child with a soft, “No-no-no-no-no-no-no.”

That sounded familiar. That’s one of the ways I corrected her.

This past weekend, my dental assistant school covered the section on infection control.  One of the points made was that babies are born without bacteria in their mouths.  The populations of germs are actually passed along to the child from their mother or primary caregiver.    Oh how we love those little babies!  Kissey, kissey!

Mothers impart many things, both good and bad.

Recently I dreamed about a grandmother I never knew.  She was my bio-mother’s mother.  Evidentially, she was the victim of a “backwoods” abortion and her life just leaked away as she bled inwardly. She died when my bio-mom was just thirteen. How very sad.

Worse yet, my bio-mother’s father made her step into the shoes of her mother and act life a wife to him. It sickens me to think of it, and I have to speculate at all the things I do not know about the woman who bore me, or about her own mother.

To this day, I don’t really know much about any of my relatives – on either my mother’s or father’s side.  All I have are disjointed stories of sadness.

Memories of my own biological mother are a blur. She taught me to hem curtains when I was six.  I loved playing dress-up in her high-heels with the peep-toe. She taught me to keep things tidy. I do remember traveling by bus to downtown Oakland to shop, because she always got all dressed up for that.

Hugs, hymns, kid’s poems, encouragement, songs, and stories read out loud were in abundance in my first few years of life.  Then things went sour.    My biological mother began to suffer from some sort of Kinectic disorder, as the doctors finally deemed it, and it took its toll on all of us!

Round and round and round we’d go.  Where we’d wake up, none of us did know!   Buried hurts mess with one’s mind. Recently, I sat down to write and was able to log sixteen different places in which I had lived before I was fourteen. Who was I?  Did I belong anywhere…to anyone?

From an early age when siblings and I were not staying with strangers, or strange relatives, I’d pretty much wake up without a parent in the house.  Well, my mother was there, but she was generally in bed, thrashing around, rolling from side to side plagued by muscle spasms that wouldn’t allow her much peace.  Her moaning still haunts me.

Bare fridge and cupboards were not uncommon.  Things were always broken, and the laundry had to be done several blocks away at a Laundromat.  Of course, that was left to me as well.  I collected and turned in old bottles to get money to do the wash.

We had no sheets or blankets for our beds, so we slept with old coats.  New shoes were rare and wore out rapidly as walking to school nearly three miles uphill and back down ground away at them. After the soles wore out, we were expected to find cardboard, step on it, draw around our feet, make cut-outs and shove them into the shoe to help protect our feet.

I know I don’t have amnesia, but childhood memories are very dim – some non-existent.  Between the ages of seven and thirteen, my main memory of my bio-mom was of her incapacitation, with much of her life lived in a basic shut-down mode from the meds that rendered her muscles still.


She wasn’t generally coherent enough to actually take care of children, therefore it was up to me to see that 2 younger siblings and a baby were fed and watched over. I made sure they made it to school, but, I often wasn’t able to attend because the baby had no one to watch him. It really hurt, because I loved, loved, loved school.  My bio-father worked two jobs, so he was rarely around to help.

The day arrived when my bio-father picked up much of the household stuff and left, taking the rest of the kids with him.  I came home from school to find them gone.  Eventually, my sister ran away from him and started on her own road to hell.

Without income or a place to stay, my bio-mother had some heart-rending decisions to make.   She needed care and I needed to be in school.

It wasn’t the first time I had to call a motel “home,” and we stayed in one until money ran out.  That was when she approached a friend about taking me in.

I can’t even begin to imagine the anguish, heartache and disappointment that ensued. All but a few small possessions gone, along with her other children and husband, she now had to face this.

So, one mother out of the picture for me, and another stepped in.

Without family or friends, trying to redefine myself and my place was arduous, at best.  Someone else’s home – again.  While I was not overtly trying to be difficult, I am certain that my early teenage reactions and behavior were problematic. Sadness cut at my core, but I didn’t want anyone to know. I’d go into the closet and cry into the dirty laundry until nothing more would come out.

An aunt once told me that we were lucky that anyone wanted us!  I didn’t want to be “lucky” any more and fought fiercely to maintain independence. I’m still a little quirky in that regard.

Slowly settling over me, a new image of what a mother should be, helped to change my gloomy self-image.  To this day, I am glad she never gave up on me.


Yes, I have a biological mother, but SHE is my mother. I take after her in so many ways, it’s hard to count.  She taught me sharing God’s love with others, feeding the poor, about giving and tough love. She taught me about The One who made us all for a purpose. She didn’t compromise and always gave it to me straight!

Once when SHE took me shopping for a formal event, the clerk remarked how much we looked alike.  We really don’t, but I’m sure it was our mannerisms more than anything else.  Later, when I married, the photographer positioned us facing each other while SHE “fixed” my veil.  He said he could tell I was her daughter.   We just laughed.

It took me a long time to feel worthy of her love.  I never felt right about calling her MOTHER.  After all, SHE had her own children and she was THEIR mother.

Because of HER, I eventually found my own identity.  Her’s was wrapped up in Almighty God, and when I received God’s approval, my heart became convinced of who I am.  Healing flowed, and I was able to turn around a lifetime of identity-theft.  Now I make the investment in others that SHE made for me.

Hazel Moon…you are MY Mother and I love you!  Thank you for NEVER giving up!

Your Daughter, Nancy


Misplaced Priorities or, “One Last Time

a man going home


Picture this scene.

Someone you truly love is getting ready to go home to heaven.  You know it’s going to happen.  You’ve known it for a while.  Things are winding down and it’s just a matter of time now.

You have summoned the rest of the family and some close friends, and they surround your loved one. .Most are Christians and truly love God.

Some of your loved one’s favorite things are also close by.   A bible, pictures, and books of inspiration are all clustered within reach.

Worship music lent a majestic backdrop.

Beaded with moisture, a pitcher of water sits near a half-empty glass. The lazy Sunday afternoon is slowly giving way to the evening.

There’s a slight feeling of angst.  You don’t want the night to come!  Not yet…

Time is precious and you don’t want to miss one more moment of having your loved one with you.   The atmosphere is worshipful.  Teardrops glisten on various faces as different ones linger near the bedside.  Kleenex is within reach of every visitor.  Even though each individual knows where their loved one will soon be headed, it’s still hard to let them go.

Your loved one rouses now and again.  Crossing their face is a slight smile.

Quickly, you shush everyone! You watch in case they need something or try to speak. They do speak, but only in a whisper.  You have to bend you head down to hear.

Now you are smiling.  You know it’s going to be okay.  Still it’s hard for you to bear.

 “Please, please don’t go yet”, you say in your mind….

You have to turn away so they don’t see your tears. It about them, not you – so you try to be brave.  They squeeze your hand right about then. You know they understand.  They are happy to be so loved.

Your loved one takes some faltering breaths followed by, alternating periods of shallow and deep breathing.   It’s obvious, they are transitioning. You hold on tight and, just for a moment, you wish you could make them stay, or go with them.

Everyone is gathered ‘round.   It seems an eternity.   Suddenly, the whole room seems to light up. And then……your loved one is gone!

Tears flow freely now, but no one moves. Quiet sobs give way to broken hearts.   Someone starts singing Amazing Grace. Hands raise in worship to The One who is welcoming your loved one home.  You can only imagine the Glory they are experiencing.

Time passes as you continue to sit. Then, you bend over and kiss their face one last time as you say your final goodbye. It was hard, but you are so glad you could be there.  It was a wonderfully, peaceful home-going.


. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   Only that’s NOT how it happened yesterday!


A Christian brother was getting ready meet His Savior soon. It was all over Facebook.  A pastor’s wife wrote that they were praying it would be a “wonderful family time” as he was surrounded by his Christian family and friends.  He had been in and out of it for a while and they wanted to spend some meaningful time with him.

Everyone gathered, dressed in their finest – red and gold, that is. The room was filled with favorite things – Forty-Niner flags and memorabilia were everywhere!

The smell of food accompanied rather loud talking as family and friends gathered round his bed to watch the Super-bowl with their beloved, one last time.

On the TV, skimpily clad singers gyrated with their unholy music during halftime while people got up and down to refill their glasses or talk about the game.

a game watching

Their loved one continued between being alert and asleep. One guy noted,

“…We had a good time. Roy was in and out throughout the game, but he was aroused each time we cheered for the Niners; LOL !”

Sure they were all together. Right?

And yet………somehow , during the commotion, no one could hear what he was saying.   They didn’t even notice when he started taking more halting breaths.  Those sitting closest saw him open his eyes and just thought he was excited too!  They slapped him on his shoulder.

They were glad they could be doing this with him.   After all he’ll never get to do this again.

The game was finally over – their team lost.  The atmosphere became subdued and people were a little bummed.  They slowly started to fold up the chairs and gather their things.  The mood was somber.

In all the commotion, no one had even noticed. No one knew exactly when it happened. Roy was gone.  He had passed away while they were distracted.

“Oh no!”   someone cried out.   “When?” someone else said?    “The last time I looked, he was fine” another mentioned.  A small wave of guilt whooshed through the room.

They will probably use that worn out, catch-all phrase of idiocy,   “He died doing what he loved.”

Really?   Really?   How shallow can we be?   Body of Christ, where are you?

Whose was the Worship, and The Glory that day?

My heart convulsed. My spirit grieved.  Tears flowed, but for a different reason.

How it that our Christian priorities become so misplaced that they are no longer even recognized?

There won’t be any Super bowl in heaven.  Like Roy is really going to care once he’s there.  Such misplaced priorities.  We have so little time to matter on this planet.  One second we’re here, and another second, we’re not.

What’ really important?

Helen Steiner Rice wrote,

“Only one life ‘twill soon be past
Only what’s done for Christ will last”

Surrounded by Christian family and friends……Roy died …..alone. 




No Bake – Turtles with Fresh Blueberries

a chocolate turtles

Food articles touting healthy ingredients are always appealing to me.

I work in the dental field, and contrary to what a person might think, Dentists and staff consume just about as much sugary junk as the next person. The big difference is that they know how to remove the residue from their teeth and mouths so it won’t linger around for the bacteria to feast upon and then create acids which cause decay!

What always got to me though, is that the stuff they didn’t want in their mouths went into their bodies. What happens to THAT residue?

Most everything on the market is modified in some way or has harmful additives, so I try to come up with ways to have a little decadence with fewer of the drawbacks – which means a lot fewer artificial ingredients! In these Turtles I use Xylitol instead of sugar.

Xylitol is available at:

I honestly can’t provide the exact proportions because I did a pretty good job of eyeballing it until the texture was right.

3/4 bag semi sweet Chocolate chips (melted in a bowl in the Microwave)
2-3 Tablespoons your favorite liquid coffee (stir in)
About 2 cups Organic granola w flax seeds and pumpkin seeds
Flax meal – just a few pinches
1/2 cup dried cranberries
3 Tsp Xylitol (a natural alternative to sugar)
1+ cups of fresh blueberries

Soften the chocolate chips in large glass bowl in microwave

Add Xylitol and cranberries
Begin adding granola.
Sir in, and add some coffee liquid when needed to soften the mix.
Mix everything together gently – add blueberries last

Drop by spoonful’s on cutting board or cookie sheet to set and harden – about 20 minutes.