This is the header from my Wordpress Digs... Beloved's Dance came from my desire to write about this new season of my life. But it never ended up really moving anywhere.

I've been in a season of change the days. A season that has led me to this moment when I write about merging and moving my blog(s) [All Three Of Them] from Blogger to Wordpress.

Bittersweet? Nah... I find the Wordpress tools more versatile and admit I still have much to learn. I'm excited to be transitioning. It is a bit like physically moving. Cleaning out my closet--so to speak-- IMAGINE. After all this time I'm moving forward.

So, in the future if you would like to find me, please log onto www.michellebentham.org. I will be removing my posts after I get everything up and running in my new digs!

Join me there and lets continue this journey together! The new blog has a new title - all the old titles can be found there, but the difference is... :) ... The new title represents this new season of my life: "Redeemed... Restored... Released | One Woman's Story of Living Free"

Love you all and thanks for following along... You know I do!

For those who are new to my writing--First, Welcome! Hang in there and keep checking back I am "cleaning out the closets of my blogs..." The best is yet to come!

Note to Beth: Acceptable Outcome or Life Changing Encounter?

Beth Moore asked on her LPM Blog a couple of week's ago for the readers of her blog to post about their salvation experience.

Here is the response I shared.  It just speaks to me and I wanted to share it with all of you.  Love you guys!

-------------------
Hi, Beth! I’m a little behind the curve, but wanted to tell you how blessed I remain to have come across those wonderful Lifeway studies you are writing regularly as my Christ encounter really came during the season of my opening the first pages of your studies and Beloved Disciple.

I was twelve years old when I got in the car after church one Sunday and told my parents I thought I needed to accept Christ as my Savior. That is the important part – I accepted Him as my Savior in 1982 – no doubt about it. Never one minute was I concerned I was going to suffer hell after that. But, I never gave Him lordship over my heart.


At Gateway Church we have this really important sentence that really bids the question we ask people who are struggling with various issues and have lots of questions about whether or not they are saved. “Tell me about the last time you had an encounter with Christ that changed you.”

It is usually followed by the question: “Do you remember having a life-changing encounter with Christ?”

If I am honest. My 1982 experience changed my expected outcome, but it didn’t impact my choices or my life too very much. I pretty much still walked the prodigal line until I was about 30 years old and never really considered God personal or in a relationship with me until I was about 33 years old. I had experiences before that but nothing like what happened in the Spring of my 31st year when He met with me in nature and delighted me with a strong breeze and warm sunshine in the creek where I once played as a child.

Then in 2003, I went to a Pregnancy Resource Center conference and heard “The Passion of the Christ” described in verbal detail. Each paragraph of Christ’s suffering capped off with “And He did it so you could be His Bride.” By the end of the conference I was laying in the floor surrendering every part of my heart, mind and spirit to God. I found myself crying throughout the next 36 hours. Tears of love, joy, repentance, and so much more. Tears of worship. I remember telling my husband the next day, “It is like the scales have fallen off my eyes and I can just see God everywhere.”

I think this is the day I truly made Jesus the Lord of my life. I encountered the freshness of His Spirit on me that day and I just fell at His feet in worship. A few weeks later I began studying Beloved Disciple and the following spring I was leading our women through not one, but starting our third corporate Beth Moore study. That particular study was “When Godly People Do Ungodly Things.”

I did my homework weeks in advance. Why? Because as the leader I was not going to be the one person who showed up with blanks on her page. The first session of Beloved Disciple drove me bonkers. I wanted to fill in my blanks so bad.

If I tell the truth I did not want to do Breaking Free or When Godly People… After all, these two studies would require me to press into Him, examine my life, open that dreaded closet where the skeletons live and face the unbearable depravity of my own soul. I liked my skeletons covered in desk and tucked safely behind that door that I never planned to open if I could help it.

One particular night I woke up to a very loud voice commanding me, “Watch the Video.”

I first thought it was my imagination. But, when I laid back in the bed and tried to resume my slumbering – I heard it again… “I said, ‘WATCH THE VIDEO.’”

After the third round of tossing and turning I got up and popped the third week of When Godly People into the DVD player. Can I tell you my obedience was in action only? My heart was far from it. I sat in the dark living room with only the bathroom light peeking around the corner and held my closed workbook in my lap without even a pen in my hand or a page turned back.

Mid-way through the video I found myself in the floor on all fours weeping my heart out. God had begun to reveal to me in the gentlest fashion all the sins that stood between He and I that I had left unconfessed. I saw the utter depravity not of mankind or the original sin of Adam – I saw the utter depravity of my own soul. My flesh had violated every area of God’s law and righteousness. I was broken. Convicted. I was literally a weeping, snotty heap in the living room floor.

I remember after some time asking, “God, what do you want me to do with all this?”

I heard, “Go look in the mirror.”

My response. “NO WAY. I have a good idea what that looks like and I don’t want to see it.”

I heard it again. I finally pulled myself up and stumbled toward the florescent bathroom beacon above the mirror. I walked in and looked through bleary eyes at the swollen, sopping wet face and mats of hair stuck to the side of my face. I heard, “Look what a mess you’ve made out of the beauty I created.”

It wasn’t the least bit condemning or hurtful. It set me free. God said He created me beautiful. He sees me as beautiful.

For the first time I saw myself through His eyes.

Since that night I have had moment after moment of relating to God up close and personal – sometimes delighted and sometimes messy and sometimes just in the routine everydayness that is life happening. But, He is ever there, always faithful and He never fails to delight me with His love and joy in every way.

Thank you for being faithful.

A NEW DAY IS DAWNING

I sold a painting last week. It kind of caught me off guard.  I had been on a prayer team for the women's conference our church hosted last week and painted a picture I had seen in my mind's while we prayed a few of the weekends.

I will be posting pictures of this painting soon.  But, I wanted to tell the story of how it came to pass first.

I saw the vision and heard the words: "You are building a highway." As we prayed in preparation for our big event. I then began to see a picture of a highway being lifted up in the darkness and the Bride of Christ leading the way as masses followed.  Some crawled, others carried their friends on stretchers while some rode in wheel chairs.  All were headed to the Throne Room to meet with their Lord. Beneath the "highway" I saw a group of women in all manner and posture of prayer. These women were elevating the "highway" and making the way for the others to come to the Throne Room.  The praying women where standing on an open Bible. They were standing on the Word of God.

I rough sketched it that day and showed it to the leader of the group. She asked me if I could make copies of the drawing to share with the group.  I told her I would.

I arrived home that afternoon and began sketching and painting the scene I had roughed into my sketchbook.

A couple of weeks ago, the very woman who purchased my painting said to me at the end of our time together in prayer that she saw the Spirit of the Lord hovering over me like Genesis describes the Spirit hovering over the waters in creative mode.  She said that God was hovering over me creating and I had been waiting for Him to do something only He could do. She went on to say that for quite a while I had heard from the Lord something He would say about me and I would enlarge my tent to encompass what I had heard from Him.  However, she said it was like I was doing it in the dark. She said, I had been faithful to enlarge my tent each time I heard something about who He says I am. She said, "You are going to continue to do that, but now it is going to be in the light." She went on, "It is kind of like wearing a diamond ring in the dark.  You know you have it on, but you can't see it - you can feel it but you cannot see it." She said, "But, when you turn the lights on you begin to see its brilliance and its beauty in all the facets." She went on to say it would be like that and that very week I would begin to see the fruit of this word.

I made printed copies of the prayer painting and God finally gave me a verse to go with it.  Isaiah 35. I took it with me to the last meeting a week ago last Saturday. I handed out the copies and passed the painting around so others could see it. That is when my new friend who had offered the word said, "Would you sell it because i want to buy it?"

I said... "Not that one." I agreed to paint a new one - mostly because I felt the one presented was still in a working state. She asked how much I would charge and I told her to ask God cause I had no idea how to value it.

I painted two more of these paintings and have one other person who is interested in purchasing a copy. I sat and talked with my husband about how I should value the painting. I figured up my investment of time and finances and told Scott I would feel guilty charging a mid-range two figure price. I was shocked to find the offer for the painting God put on my friend's heart was double what I had said I would feel guilty asking. 

The painting officially sold last Friday and I am so blessed to see the Lord move in my life.  He amazes me.

I have decided to use Beloved's Dance for the purpose of revealing my paintings and the story behind them.  If you see one that speaks to you - EMAIL me and inquire.  The price is set by our creator and I will honor the price he gives you if you wish to purchase one.

So this is the first painting I would like to reveal:

This is my rendering of the Anointing of Jesus described in Isaiah 61. This Scripture was given to me when Scott and I came to Gateway and is part of the redemptive and restoring work that God has shown us consistently that He wants to do in and through us in the days ahead.

I painted this as a symbol of that completed work and the Gospel that Jesus preached.

Blessings and love,

 

A Thankful Heart

Sometimes, when life is throwing us nothing but crisis and turmoil, and well... Quite frankly, we are finding some of it just might be our fault.  It becomes more and more difficult to find a reason to praise God.  To sincerely thank Him from our hearts.

I was reading Psalm 138 from the message this morning and thinking about this very thing.

I mean truly... If I worship only out of obedience and offer praise from an unthankful heart then what exactly am I offering God.  I do believe that our emotions and our actions will line up with a strong desire and implementation of obedience in our hearts.  Yet, I still find that something I learned through my first season of true fasting to be the case.  God doesn't just want obedient children who follow the rules and honor him on the outside. 

He wants our thoughts.

He wants our hearts.

After all, if He had wanted only obedience from us then Adam and Eve would have never had the chance to fall in the Garden.  They wouldn't have had a choice.

The question becomes this:  Do I honestly praise God and worship Him from the sincerity of my heart because I am deeply thankful that He is God in spite of my circumstances and my experiences.  Or is my response to God circumstantial and experiential... Does it lack my heart?

Read the following eight verses aloud and think, beloved of God, what it is that God sees in your heart as you come before Him in Thanksgiving, Praise and Worship.

Thank you! Everything in me says, "Thank you!" 
Angels listen as I sing my thanks.
I kneel in worship facing your holy temple 
and say it again: "Thank you!"

Thank you for your love, 
Thank you for your faithfulness; 
Most holy is your name, 
Most holy is your Word.

The moment I called out, you stepped in;
you made my life large with strength.

When they hear what you have to say, GOD,
all earth's kings will say, "Thank you."
They'll sing of what you've done:
"How great the glory of GOD!"
And here's why: GOD, high above, sees far below;
no matter the distance, he knows everything about us. 

When I walk into the thick of trouble, 
keep me alive in the angry turmoil.
With one hand
strike my foes,
With your other hand
save me.
Finish what you started in me, GOD.
Your love is eternal -- don't quit on me now.
(Psalm 138 The MSG)


Perhaps it is just me, and the perspective with which I am reading this passage.  But, does it sound to you like the Psalmist is thanking God in spite of his troubles... Maybe even for them?

I think we have stumbled upon an important aspect of a Thankful Heart.

A thankful heart does not default to believing that God has abandoned them when the trouble comes.  His word promises us in several places that He will never leave us, nor forsake us.  He is for us and His plans are to prosper us and not to harm us --- Even in the most painful circumstances of our lives  God is for us.  His desire is to bring our good and His glory from our lives continually. 

Jesus told his disciples "When trouble comes..." and "In this world you will have trouble..."

How many of us right now today would be bold enough to praise God when He did not keep us from being thrown in jail? Is our faith merely in what we judge God should prevent and not in what He can do in every circumstance?

How many of us could truly, from our heart thank God at the funeral of our oldest child?

I cannot answer this question for others, only for myself.  But, the truth is this: if my heart is not thankful then the words of thanksgiving that I pray and the songs of worship that I sing are the false echo of an empty heart. 

The Bible says that man looks on the outward appearance but God looks deeper.  He peers beyond our faces and our postures... He looks deep into the hidden places of our hearts and searches to find Himself there.  What is it that God sees in your heart?

I once heard a teacher on the radio speaking about how she had interviewed a wheat farmer one time.  She was researching a teaching of the parables of wheat and the sifting of the wheat from the chaff.

She noted that in the Bible that Jesus compared the emptiness of a chaff kernel to the emptiness of a heart that confesses Jesus outwardly but lacks the inward affection and presence of the fruit.  In short, the heart of the chaff is not full.  What it produces is an outward appearance of wheat with no real benefit or influence because indeed, it is empty.

The teacher asked the farmer, "How do you know if the stem has actually produced wheat or if it is chaff?"

The farmer's reply was this:  "That's easy.  When the wind blows, the wheat bows down while the chaff stands tall against it's movement."

The fruit of our heart will be love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self control when we are walking in the abundance of His Spirit, in fellowship with His Word

What does that look like? 

I mean honestly... If your child fell off his bike and broke his arm, but came to you and said, "Mommy, thank you for my bike.  I know you didn't intend for me to get hurt and I love riding it so much.  So, thank you for my bike even though riding it resulted in breaking my arm."

Would you believe the heart of that child is thankful?  I would.  How often do I go before God and say, "Lord, I don't like this... It's not fair... Why did you let this happen? Thank you for being God. Amen."

Does my grumbling and complaining both in prayer and in conversation deny the ability of God to bring good to me out of sorrow.  To bring life to me out of death.  To bring hope to me out of despair and beauty to the ashes that I see?  How big does my praise and my worship say my God is?

If I'm going to be thankful in all circumstances, I must count it all joy like Christ.  Even when I suffer. 

I must tell my pain to praise Him and worship from a heart that is grateful to God for who He is as much as I am grateful for what He has done for me.

bless the Lord, O my soul and all that is within me.... Bless His Holy Name and forget not ALL His benefits

I'm pretty sure I read that in the Psalms, but I cannot seem to find it this morning. 

How about you... Is it possible in our finite human existence to have a thankful heart in every circumstance?

The LETTER

If you have not read The BACK STORY, EPICENTER, & A KIND GESTURE before reading about the Encounter.
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Martina's fingers played over the carved leather edges on the Bible as she opened it to the ribbon in the center.  Psalm 43:5 stared back at her:

Why so downcast, Oh my soul...
My hope is in God and I will yet praise Him my hope and my countenance is my God.

She pulled the business card for Mr. Phelps out of her sweater pocket.  She tapped it and smiled.  The Lord had been with her today.  Imagine.  That. 

She picked up the phone and dialed the ten numbers scrawled out on the back.  She had anticipation in her heart for the first time in her life.

One-Two-Three rings.  After a long pause the voice of an elderly woman swept through the earpiece of the phone.  "Martina?"

"Um... Yes.  This is Martina.  Is this Mrs. Phelps?"

"Why yes, dear, it is.  Did you get the things my Donny left for you today?"

"Yes, Ma'am.  I did. I'd like to thank you for the beautiful Bible and well, for the groceries.  Cat and I ate our last can of tuna this morning.  It couldn't have come at a better time."

"Well, I'm grateful you came in to see Donny.  His last day before retirement was a difficult one, but for some reason your case touched his heart."

"I had no idea.  I really appreciate everything.... Uh.... The other reason I called is.... Well, Mr. Phelps invited me to come to church with you tomorrow. Is that still an option?"

"Why yes...yes.  Hold on and I'll tell Donny."

Martina felt a tinge of embarrassment creep into her cheeks.  The sweet muffled voice was speaking in excited tones. "Martina?"

"I'm here."

"Donny and I will be by to pick you up promptly at 6:00 PM.  And, Martina?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Don't you dare eat dinner.  We're going to take you out."

"You don't have to...."

"Not another word there, dear. We will be there at six sharp and we are going out to dinner.  Do you hear me?"

Martina suppressed her amusement with a smile. "Yes, ma'am.  I'll be ready."

"See you then.  Have a good evening."

"I will."

Martina stood up and shuffled her feet in the direction of the kitchen for a can of warm soup and some crackers.  Her heart did a few somersaults as she considered all she had experienced.  She saw the white, wax wrapper of the hot dog she had stuffed in her coat peeking out at her.  She walked over, plucked the carefully wrapped entree from her pocket.  She smiled down at Cat.  "Mr. and Mrs. Phelps saved our scrawny necks from this paltry hot dog in favor of a feast. What do you say Cat?"

Cat mewed softly and nudged Martina's legs gently as he looked up out of large emerald eyes. "I think we're darn lucky to have met Mr. Phelps, that's what I think."

******

Martina tossed and turned in the night.  Memories wrestled around in her head. She sat up with a a start before falling back onto the flat, stale pillow on her bed.

She closed her eyes praying for sleep to come again.  Her hip was radiating a sharp, stabbing pan as she tossed herself over and over hoping to find a spot of relief.

She felt the pain ease a bit before settling on her back again and closing her bleary eyes.

The visions she saw this time were strikingly real.  Her father standing at the corner after ordering her to go home. That's when she saw him.  The man in the white shirt and jeans standing beside her.  He was the same age as her father and his long dark hair blew wildly in the breeze.  He looked down at her and smiled.  Something about his dark eyes seemed to light up her insides.  The gaze demonstrated a deep knowing. Something deeper...Love.

He extended his hand to her and she took it.  She skipped back toward the brownstone where her mother lay weeping in the floor.  Just as they rounded the corner, he hoisted her up onto his shoulder and she giggled with delight.  "Let's play!"

He jogged down to the park on the corner and pushed her on the swings before taking her back to the steel safety door just outside the stairwell.  "See you tomorrow, Tina?"

"Who are you?"  The tiny voice sounded familiar. 

"My name is Joshua.  I'd like to be your friend."

"See you tomorrow, Joshua."

The bleating alarm clock next to her head startled her awake.  "Who's there?"

"It's me, Tina."

The voice she heard now was exactly the same as in her dream. "Joshua?"

"Yes, beloved.  It is me."

"Why have you come to see me now?"

"I told you yesterday that I never left you."

"Joshua?"

"Yes, Tina, I'm here."

"If you've been here all along why can't I see you?"

"Because, Tina, you stopped believing in me that day at the doctor's office. But, I have never left you.  I'm still here."

"Joshua, why did you tell me you are my father?"

"Because I am.  I'm your Friend.  My name means salvation and it is also..."

The sharp buzzer of her doorbell startled her back to reality.  

She hustled up out of the bed and slid her trembling arms into her robe. She checked her bed-head look in the mirror before grabbing the brush on her bureau and placing her feet in the warm, fuzzy slippers beside her bedroom door.  

She cautiously peered out the peep-hole and unbolted the door and opening it as far as the chain would reach.  "Hello?"

"Are you Martina Duncan?"

"Yes, sir."  The delivery man was dressed in brown.  He held a large golden envelope in his hand.  "Can I help you?"

"I have an express package for you.  I need you to sign for it."

Martina exhaled heavily and tried to stem the tide of rattling nerves she felt coursing through her veins.  "Hold on."

She shut the door back and removed the chain from its perch on the door.  Once she opened it again she realized the gentleman was from a local messenger service.  

"Here you go, ma'am."

Martina took the stylus and did her best to scribble her signature on the touch pad in front of her.  The messenger smiled and handed her the package.  She smiled weakly and retreated to her chair to see what awaited her inside.

She sat on the edge of the recliner's seat and rocked back and forth as she read the name of the law firm printed in embossed lettering on the back of the envelope.  She turned it over once more and discovered that the package was indeed addressed to her.

She pulled at the flap that was sealed in the back and pulled out the finest linen paper she'd ever seen in her life.  The same embossed lettering graced the top of a well written letter in an elegant font.

Dear Miss Duncan,

This letter comes to you with our deepest sympathies for the loss of your father.  He has been one of our clients for the last 20 years and asked us to forward the enclosed letter upon his death.  Please accept this letter with our condolences.  

We also need to close out your father's business with our firm.  Would you please call the number at the top of this letter and schedule a time when we can read his will and dispose of his earthly possessions?

Again, we are deeply sorry for the loss you've suffered.  Please do not hesitate to contact us should you require our assistance in any way.

With warmest regards,

Signed, Andrew Lovett, 

Attorney at Law.

Martina felt a pain in her heart that left her a little confused. Her father had died.  And, he knew where she lived.  She looked at the plain manilla envelope she held in her hands.  It had her name written in her father's hand.  

She felt the striking of her heart against her chest as she slid her finger beneath the flap and gently loosed the envelopes seal.  A handful of sheets of yellow legal paper were folded neatly inside.  She pulled it out and felt that familiar sting of rejection that had haunted her since that day on the sidewalk when she was a little girl.

Dear Tina,

I'm writing to you today because the doctors tell me that I have weeks to live.  A number of tumors have consumed my brain and my spinal cord. I could not leave this world without writing to you and asking you to do one thing. Please, Tina, forgive me for leaving you and your mom all those years ago.  

I was a confused and broken man.  I didn't know what would make me happy then, and I could never have known the deepest regret of my heart would be found in leaving you both behind.  I realized it too late.  When I came back for you and your mom, she told me that you were better off without me and she wanted me to stay out of your life.   She said that the pain you had suffered almost had driven you crazy and she asked me to leave.  

I did.  I left that day more broken than when I arrived. I threw myself into my job at my father's company.  He had hired me to work there after I left your mom.  He had never approved of my marrying a Native American girl and had only hired me because I agreed to leave her and disown you to find his favor.  I had no idea what that would cost me, Tina.  I had no idea what that would cost you.

I've stayed close to you all these years.  I was at your high school graduation and again when you completed college.  I was at the restaurant the night you celebrated your engagement to Chad.  I even stopped by the hospital the day you had sweet little Jessica.  You were sleeping so peacefully when I came into the room that I couldn't bear to wake you.  I've loved from afar all these years my darling girl.  I'm so sorry for everything you've been through.  

Then, after the accident, I wanted to come to you, but your mother once again told me that your fragile mental state would not be able to handle seeing me again.  I went away from the hospital praying that somehow you would have known I was there for you.  I asked the nurse at the information desk to make sure you got my number.  I can only assume that your mother was right.  I understand.  I do.

I was at the funeral that day.  In the back of the church, I stood silently and ached for your loss.  To lose your husband and daughter in one fell swoop that way must have torn you apart.  I watched as you crumpled into a weeping lump on the floor.  My heart ached to run to you, to scoop you up and take you away from all of that.  But, I knew that my presence would only make things worse. I left before they closed the coffins. I've loved you, Tina, all these years.  I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you.  I'm so sorry that my decisions hurt you and cost you so much.  Please, beloved, please forgive me.

I stayed with my father's company and built it into a Fortune 500 company.  Throwing my life into my work seemed to be the only thing that helped to ease my suffering at never having been a part of your life.  He died a few days after your 18th birthday.   He never knew you - but, you my girl.  You are going to run the company that he gave me upon his death.  I pray it gives you a comfortable life and meets your every need.  I could not do that as you grew up, but I can do it now.  I pray you will take the company and do with it as you please.  Whatever you wish to do... It is now yours.  

Andrew has the papers.  You need only to meet with him and sign them.  My heart aches as I write these words.  I wish I had defied your mother and came to you.  Loved you all these years and stood with you through all your trials.  I'm so sorry love.  I love you. 

Your Father. 

Tina wadded the yellow-lined paper and dropped it to the floor. She wrapped her robe tightly around her middle and rocked back and forth in the chair while the tear of loss and regret fell free once again.  "Why Daddy, why?"

-----------------------------------------------------

Come back on Monday to learn more about Tina's story.

(c) 2010 Michelle Bentham, All Rights Reserved.  This story is fiction.  Any resemblance to persons living or dead is not intentional.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! We interrupt this story for an important announcement!

Can you see the severe weather sign on the screen?

If not, look harder... Actually, no severe weather to speak of, but there is a reason for interrupting Tina's story.  I have the stomach bug.  Creative juices are not what is flowing at our house today.  I will be back later in the week with another installment of Tina's story. In the meantime, check out "So Long Insecurity" by Beth Moore.  It's a great read.

Blessings,

A GESTURE OF KINDNESS

If you have not yet read THE BACKSTORY and THE EPICENTER please click this link to do so.
---------------------------------------------
The sun was warm on her face as she set her feet down on the white sidewalk in front of the state offices.  She looked at the list of charities Mr. Phelps had given her.

Wanting to hold onto the four dollars she had in her pocket, she decided to walk home.  He hip was feeling better now. Exercise seemed to ease the pain a bit, but she was already bracing for the low dull ache that would keep her up into the night.

She hobbled along at a leisurely pace.  A hot dog cart on the corner had a make shift sign on it.

"All dogs $1"

She fished two crumpled dollar bills out of her pocket.  One hot dog with the works and one plain for later back home.  Sharing a hot dog with Cat was not her idea of a hot date, but at least they would have something in their stomachs tonight when she got home.

She took a seat in the shade of a live oak tree where a cool Texas winter breeze had picked sending cold chills down her spine. She savored each bite of the hot dog with kraut, mustard, relish and ketchup oozing out the sides.  She licked every last smudge of sauce from her fingers before wiping them on the wax wrapper the hot dog vendor had given her.

She slipped the wrapper in her pocket hoping to find a trash can up the road.  Her eyes narrowed as the despair began to overwhelm her again. "Get a grip old girl.  You'll make it.  You always do."

***

A few more steps... That is all she needed to take. She stepped up with her good leg while pulling her aching left leg behind her.  The steps up to her condo seemed to be growing larger and higher with each passing second.  

Just then, a teenager that she recognized from her floor opened the large safety door to the refurbished warehouse.  He saw her hobbling up the steps and smiled.  "Let me help you up."

He came along side and gripped her elbow before gently lifting her left side up the remaining steps to the landing of the front stoop. "Do you need help up to your apartment?"

"No, thank you."  Martina felt the flush in her cheeks begin to creep down her neck.  "I think I can manage now.  Thank you."

"No prob.  See you around."  The boy hopped down the steps three at a time before jogging down the street to a waiting car of young men. 

As the freight elevator groaned to a stop on the third floor, Martina noticed a large box sitting in front of her door.  She walked slowly toward it waiting for something bad to happen. The tears she had been fighting for hours now fell free.  Huge wet puddles of relief pooled on the collar of her shirt. 

She reached down and plucked a business size envelope off the top.  

She pulled out four crisp one-hundred dollar bills wrapped in a note.  Her heart pounded wildly in her chest.  Maybe her dad had really been here this morning.  Could he really want to be a part of her life after all these years?

She unfolded the crisp white paper while cradling the fresh, new bills in her other hand.  She read the words printed there once, and then again.  She could hardly believe it.

Miss Duncan,

As you walked out of my office today I clearly heard the Lord say, 'She's at the end of her rope.'  My job may not be able to provide you the assistance you need, but I can help as much as I can.  I hope this will carry you through the next couple of weeks until I can get by with more supplies.  Please call the hospital social worker.  Deb is a great gal and she specializes in helping people like you through a rough patch.

I'd also like to invite you to my church tomorrow evening.  We're having a night of prayer and encouragement.  If you'd like to come please call the number listed on the business card in this envelope.  My wife and I would be glad to stop by and pick you up.

Your brother in Christ,

Don Phelps

She crumpled the letter into her hand with the money he'd provided.  Pulling the envelope open wide she watched as his card slid out and fell to the floor.  She picked up the small piece of cardstock and stared at it in disbelief.

She stuffed the note, envelope and bills into her pocket before lodging the card between her teeth.  Kneeling down gingerly as a sharp pain shot up her side she began to sift through the items in the box.  Several cans of vegetables, some boxed casseroles and a small styrofoam cooler with meat were the bulk of the items inside.  He had also included two packages of toilet paper, two packages of paper towels and a variety of snacks and breakfast foods.  To her delight a mesh bag of apples and oranges were lodges beneath several bags of chips and three boxes of wet cat food was placed underneath the cooler. 

She laughed out loud recalling the portion of the application that called for dependents.  She had jokingly put Cat in the first blank.  After all, the little ball of fluff was dependent on her for his every need.

"Thank you, Mr. Phelps."

She fished her key out of the small hand bag she was carrying and opened her front door.  She pushed the box through the opening with her good leg before stepping inside and shutting the door.  Cat came around the corner purring and mewing softly.  He pressed his warm, firm ribs up against Martina's leg and began to rub and purr all the more.

Martina reached down and rubbed Cat's soft gray fur. "How you doing old boy?"

She began plucking out the boxes and cans of groceries up to carry them to the cupboard. She felt the faintest hint of a smile creeping to her face.  "Look what Momma's got, Cat.  Mr. Phelps bought us some vittles."

She was winded by the time she finished pulling the styrofoam chest out of the box and deposited it's treasures into the freezer.  When she returned to move the box outside for trash pick up she notices a small brown packages shoved into the corner of the box.  

She picked it up and deposited the box outside of her door.

Once she was back inside, she plugged in her heating pad and settled down in her recliner to open the package from the box.  

She carefully lifted the corner of the packaged noticing that a leather covered book was inside.  When she had removed all the paper she sat and stared at the most beautiful leather Bible she had ever seen.  It was etched with flowers and vines and had her name pressed into the corner with gold cursive letters. She ran her fingers along the edge wondering what had prompted this man to give her such an expensive gift.

"I told you I would never leave you or forsake you child.  Mr. Phelps is one of my boys.  He looks out for my kids. I told him to check on you today."

Martina's head jolted upright. A tinge of uncertainty played with her head.  "Who's there?"

"It's me Tina, your father."

Tina pulled the Bible up from her lap and deposited with a thud onto the table beside her chair.  "Yeah, right."

She ran her fingers through her hair and closed her eyes.  "My father doesn't give a flip about me.  Why should you?"

"Tina, I've loved you with an everlasting love and I'm drawing you to myself.  I'm waiting for you."

She looked at the Bible and realized that she used to love playing Sunday school as a little girl.  She would hold her one doll and read to her from the hard covered children's Bible her mother had given her. She smiled for the first time in weeks.  "Is that really you, God?"

"Why don't you open the cover and find out."

Martina's hand pulled the Bible back into her lap.  She pulled a pair of reading glasses from a case laying on the table.   After setting the glasses gingerly on her nose she gently pulled the cover open and flipped to the feather light page where an inscription was written in a lady's handwriting.

Martina,

 When Don called and told me your story, it broke my heart.  Your Father in heaven has been telling me about you.  He wants you to know how much He loves you and that He's going to take care of you. He loves you, baby girl. He's your Daddy and He wants to meet your every need.  He wants to heal you, too.  Don and I are praying for you sweet girl.  We love you, too. 

John 3:16

Blessings,

Martha

The words seemed to flitter up off the page and land in her heart.  That well of pain and sorrow she had tapped into earlier was slowly being drowned out by a deep and settling peace. "Thank you, God."

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Come back tomorrow to learn more about Tina's story.

(c) 2010 Michelle Bentham, All Rights Reserved.  This story is fiction.  Any resemblance to persons living or dead is not intentional.