Avalanche Area Do Not Stop (part two)

In our life there are times that are like driving through the Rockie Mountains on winter roads. Poor visibility and lurking danger. Intense times of uncertainty and questioning. At those times, when it seems too difficult to press on, when inwardly I am desperate and feel I do not have the fortitude to move forward and all I want to do is pause or perhaps quit. But the Lord has a road sign that reads ..."Avalanche area do not stop" I must press on. Sigh. I must trust that this directional sign is for my good. There is more danger if I stop... I must keep going no matter how slow the pace. And then, and then there is the euphoric rush when I have made it through the pass, gone further then I thought possible, and I am on the other side...thanking God!

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Avalache Area Do Not Stop

When i pulled out of Gplden the roads looked clear but in just 10 short min that all changed. The visibility dropped drastically and the snow blinded my wind shield. I sighed and clenched the wheel. I did not want to drive on these wintery roads and mt shoulders rose slightly and my back stiffened, I whispered a prayer and clung to the wheel of the car praying for safety. God has been good and now I am safely home and very,very blessed.

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He will Always be my Little Brother

Tonight I fell on my knees beside my bed to petition the Lord, once again on behalf of Marty. Being as I am a visual person...in my minds eye I could picture him lying in the hospital bed, the eight medication bags hanging from chrome hooks on tall stands  to my left, and the connecting tubes running to Marts jugular on the right side of his throat. His dark, wavy, silver threaded hair, drenched from the perspiration as he rested unconsciously against the bleached white pillows. His arms and shoulders propped up with towels his daughter rolled and tenderly tucked around him for comfort. His month gaped open with white adhesive strapped across three tubes, adhering them to his beard and upper lip, which was blistered with dried blood. The large tube wedged between his lips was the respirator and it had a vacuum cleaner like hose that billowed gently in and out with each life sustaining breath. Then there was the small one with the cream colored "liquid dinner' going straight to his stomach... and the third, the ugliest, was sucking the poison from his lungs and filling the clear glass bottles, tucked behind the humming and colorfully blinking machines, filling up with gross brownish blood-stained gunk from his lungs... I think.
It hurt as I prayed...then the transformation happened. I saw him as this delightful little boy, his eyes were dancing with life and mischief, he was smiling..and laughting I saw him as "my little brother" and I wanted to hold him, protect him and most of all I was over whelmed with a strong, powerful love for him. With those wonderful pictures I forged into the realm of supernatural prayer, I entered the courts of the Lord as a warrior, a big sister doing battle, relentless battle and so I continue...I had to get up and come into my office and type this, it is so real tonight. I feel a sense, like when I was there in his room, and now over 1000 miles away I pray...and the miles evaporate. The spirit know no distance no barriors...and I thank God for this miracle.

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He will Always be ...my Little Brother

Tonight I fell on my knees beside my bed to petition the Lord, once again on behalf of Marty. Being as I am a visual person...in my minds eye I could picture him lying in the hospital bed, the eight medication bags hanging from chrome hooks on tall stands  to my left, and the connecting tubes running to Marts jugular on the right side of his throat. His dark, wavy, silver threaded hair, drenched from the perspiration as he rested unconsciously against the bleached white pillows. His arms and shoulders propped up with towels his daughter rolled and tenderly tucked around him for comfort. His month gaped open with white adhesive strapped across three tubes, adhering them to his beard and upper lip, which was blistered with dried blood. The large tube wedged between his lips was the respirator and it had a vacuum cleaner like hose that billowed gently in and out with each life sustaining breath. Then there was the small one with the cream colored "liquid dinner' going straight to his stomach... and the third, the ugliest, was sucking the poison from his lungs and filling the clear glass bottles, tucked behind the humming and colorfully blinking machines, filling up with gross brownish blood-stained gunk from his lungs... I think.
It hurt as I prayed...then the transformation happened. I saw him as this delightful little boy, his eyes were dancing with life and mischief, he was smiling..and laughting I saw him as "my little brother" and I wanted to hold him, protect him and most of all I was over whelmed with a strong, powerful love for him. With those wonderful pictures I forged into the realm of supernatural prayer, I entered the courts of the Lord as a warrior, a big sister doing battle, relentless battle and so I continue...I had to get up and come into my office and type this, it is so real tonight. I feel a sense, like when I was there in his room, and now over 1000 miles away I pray...and the miles evaporate. The spirit know no distance no barriors...and I thank God for this miracle.

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