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A Call to Prayer (Day 4 from Cleansing Thoughts)

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     I tried to turn away from what I was seeing in my mind's eye, but it held me captive; then suddenly, the image changed, and I could not refrain from crying out. Some time ago, I don't remember just when I had seen a picture of Christ crying as He held an unborn child in His hand. There are no memorials to these victims. No Hall of Names containing the Pages of Testimony symbolic of their gravestones. As a nation , we do not unite in reverence to their memory; instead, we stand divided, torn between the freedom of choice and the right to life. Oh, how it must grieve the heart of God.     When I look down on the cluster of six yellow tulips, I am reminded of that day. I came out of my prayer closet with a renewed sense of value towards life and a hope that as a nation we would repent and stand together, as the Jewish people have, to remember those lives we have taken by abortion. The Word of God says He is looking for those who will make up a hedge and stand in the gap befor

A Call to Prayer (Day 3 from Cleansing Thoughts)

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         Several months later, after I had returned home, the reality of what I experienced that day came like a flood  into my mind. Sometimes when praying, I like to have a reference point, something I can see or touch to help me stay focused on what I am praying for. The images of the children of the children filled my thoughts, but they had no faces. There were no candles lit. These were the babies lost to a present-day Holocaust on the abortion tables across our country. Children marked for extinction because we claim our freedom of choice. Mankind has not learned from the past; they have only found another way to eliminate what stands in their way. The choices we make have caused an endless number of babies to be thrown aside, not even to be recognized as human life. Never given a name. Most never to be remembered. The words of the Jewish poet filled my heart, "Unto every person, there is a name bestowed on him by God." These little ones were known  by God when they wer

Call to Prayer (Day 2 from Cleansing Thoughts)

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    The cold reality of what I was about to witness was first seen in a sculpture called Adolescence Broken Off, which stood on the cavern cradling the Children's Memorial and the Hall of Remembrance. This memorial is for the 1.5 million children who perished during the Holocaust. The money to fund the sculpture was donated by the surviving parents of a two-and-a-half-year-old boy who was put to death in Auschwitz. The memorial consist of several square pillars standing in rows like children lined up for a portrait. The ashen color of the stone, standing so still, was hard enough to bear until I noticed that the top of the pillars was left uncut and unfinished, just as the lives of these children were cut off before they were given the chance to live them. When I first entered the Hall of Remembrance, my eyes met with portraits, suspended from the ceiling, of the innocent children; the silence was deafening, broken only by the reading of their names, ages, and place of birth. Next,

A Call to Prayer (Day 1 from Cleansing Thoughts)

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                                                                             IT HAD BEEN A LONG cold winter, and I was glad to see spring arrive with all the newness of life that it symbolizes.   I remember seeing my first robin of the year, knowing the spring flowers were soon to follow. There is something peaceful about a garden; perhaps it is in the beauty of the flowers of spring or their sweet fragrance that fills the air. To me, it is the flowers of spring that bring a feeling of renewed hope and restoration. Yet as I stand here looking down at a cluster of six yellow tulips that grace my flower garden, there is no beauty to be seen, no sweet fragrance that fills the air, only a feeling of renewed hope that fills my heart. You see, they were planted as a memorial and a call to prayer.     As early as the ninth century, yellow was used as an identifying color to mark the Jewish people for discrimination. This marking system was revived when Adolf Hilter required all Greman Jews to

For Everything There is a Season (Day 5 from an untitled collection)

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  As I sit here I can hear the wind howling outside and feel the cold creeping into the night giving us a harsh reminder that the long winter months had arrived. So often writers or artists associate this time of year with negative emotions, but as a gardener, winter is a time of preparation and hope as we plan for the spring gardening season. With that in mind, to me, winter represents our retirement years until the time God calls us home.  I had been standing on God’s promise that our latter years were better than our beginning and as time grew closer the hope of what those years would be like became almost alive within my heart, the Bible puts it this, “Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy, he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil, or fade--kept in heaven for you, who through faith are shielded by God’s power until the coming of the

For Everything There is a Season (Day 4 from an untitled collection)

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  As things change with the colors of autumn our lives change as well, we leave our school years behind us and look forward to all the possibilities life has to offer.  Our adult years are filled with both achievements and failures. My first marriage was one of those failures, ending after six short months. It was a year later that I met my husband; he was drafted in the Army during the Vietnam War and stationed in Germany; we were married shortly after basic training. I went with his mom and dad to his graduation, but on the return trip home his dad had a cerebral hemorrhage and was taken off life support on what was to be our wedding day. We were married two months later. I will never forget the day after I took him to the airport to leave for Germany; I had gone to my mother-in-laws, a wonderful woman I came to love dearly to my mother-in-laws, we were standing just inside the living room watching my son just standing by papas chair staring, then we heard him say, “Papa gone, daddy

For Everything There is a Season (Day 3 from an untitled collection)

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                   Just as summer follows spring the cycle of our lives continues. Summer is the symbol of growth and the search for self-acceptance and our personal identity; it stands for our youth, that formative time when we enter the school years. The first day of school arrived and when the bus pulled up and the doors opened I couldn’t reach the steps, I was too short, mom told me the bus driver would get off the bus to pick me up and put me on the front seat right behind him. My entire first year of school centered on how short I was. There was a set of twins that were small too, the teacher had told the class not to play with us because there was something wrong with us; she had contacted the principal to have us removed because of our size. Mom took had to take me in for tests to determine if there was nothing wrong. Mom never told me how long I was out of school only that it was determined I was healthy and could return to school. However, the damage was already done; I was n