The Stories

The LORD God Is Also A Good Accountant

pmailletblogs@gmail.com (P Maillet) — Sun, 26 Oct 2008 18:42:00 +0000

In the last year of high school I took part in a selection procedure for a course to become a tax-inspector but just missed that boat! What next?

My father, who for most of his working life was a bookkeeper in a printing company, advised me to apply for a job as assistant-accountant. That was an excellent advice. I was accepted by a well-known Dutch charter accountant company and started my working career as a 17-year-old, just fresh out of high school, but I did like the job immediately.

I received several promotions during my four years as assistant accountant, and would certainly have continued this job if the LORD had not called me to go to Bible College. I even had started studying Accounting, but my involvement in our church as a youth leader was not the right combination time-wise.

During these four years I learned that our heavenly Father is well aware where our earthly pennies are, and that He is an extremely good Accountant.

Just to give a few examples:

One of the companies where I regularly came to check the books had encountered a minor problem. At the end of the year there was a small technical balance deficit that they could not find the reason for. Good counsel is always welcome, certainly if God is the counselor. I prayed about it and promised God that if He would show me the solution that I would testify about it. And so it happened. I found the deficit, and was prompted from “on High” to live up to my promise, and I was able to share the testimony that only after I had prayed for it, God had revealed the answer!

A similar thing happened a while later when I worked with another company. The deficit was much larger and more urgent because the yearly figures needed to be published. I prayed again about this problem, and in His kindness, God used me again to find the problem. That they accepted my testimony that God had helped me is a different story!

I know for sure that the LORD God, our heavenly Father, knows exactly where every penny is, even in the accounting system of a very worldly business!

God is good, always!

Wim van der Zande
Israel
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Wrong Route To Russia

pmailletblogs@gmail.com (P Maillet) — Sun, 19 Oct 2008 18:02:00 +0000

It was near time to leave on a missions trip to Russia which I was taking through the Barnabbas organization. I had requested the organization put me on Delta with my friend Grady, so that we would fly together from New York straight to Moscow, as we had done in the past.

They always send you the tickets just a couple days before you leave. And when the tickets came, I was aghast to find they had put me on British Airlines going through London. Boy was I angry. That meant that now I was going to have to travel alone, because my friend Grady's tickets had him on Delta. So not only will I be traveling alone, but in London I'll have to make a change too, because this flight is going to Gatwick, and then I have to get to Heathrow which is seventy two miles away. So boy, I was just really angry, and it was too late to do anything about it.

The first leg of the trip was uneventful and I made the change in London without a problem, and went on to Moscow. But coming back was a bit different.

First of all, I'm traveling alone again. Everyone else in the group was leaving in the afternoon, but my flight was in the evening. And I was facing another change in London again, arriving in Heathrow and having to get to Gatwick. At night. The last bus from Heathrow to Gatwick leaves at 10:30. And my flight gets in at ten past ten, and I knew there was no way I was going to make that bus. By the time you go through customs and passport control and all that, it was going to be an impossible situation.

So I boarded the plane and found out they had also changed my seat assignment! Now I'm in the front of the plane! Well, we arrive in Heathrow ten minutes early, and because I'm in the front of the plane, I'm the first one in line at passport control. And then at customs there was hardly anyone around and I just breezed through. Boy, maybe I can make that bus after all. So I'm running, and asking people as I run, "where do you get the bus to Gatwick?" Someone yelled back and told me where to get that bus. I got there to find out the bus was late getting there, so I made the bus!!! Count the steps that had to happen in order for me to make this bus!

So we get to Gatwick. It's after midnight now. I get to a hotel and find that a room will cost me 258 dollars. For a couple hours sleep?? There was a McDonald's there at the airport, so I paid $4.00 for a Big Mac, then I just walked around trying to figure out what I should do. Finally I decided to just sit down awhile. So I found a seat, and there was a row of seats opposite me, facing me, with people trying to sleep there.

Then this guy starts talking to me. So I spoke back and in the end I spent until 6:00 in the morning talking to this man. Hours. We just talked. Hours. I happened to have a copy of my book, "What Does God Really Want," so I gave it to him. His next flight was earlier than mine, so he left.

I finally got home.

About a month later, my friend Grady calls me and says, "you have a letter here from New Zealand!" I said, "from New Zealand??? Who on earth could that be? Open it and read it."

I could hardly believe it! It was from the man I spoke to for four hours in the Gatwick terminal! He was a pastor of a church. He hadn't told me that. In the letter, he told me that he had lost his faith and had taken a trip to Scotland just to get away and try to regain his faith. That's when he met me in the airport terminal. He had regained his faith and was now back pastoring his church. He said that I had said to him that our meeting had been a pre-ordained deal. He continued, "to me, you are Moses the American!"

Now, the question is: did God know about this before the tickets were arranged?

Clarence O
Florida
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Pudgy

pmailletblogs@gmail.com (P Maillet) — Mon, 13 Oct 2008 17:52:00 +0000

Pudgy’s real name was Steven. He was about 11. He was a pal of my kids and lived a street away.

One Saturday morning, my next door neighbor stopped by and asked me if I knew how Pudgy was doing. I didn’t know anything was wrong with him, but she told me that she was sure I knew as one of my sons was with him when he had been hit by a car the evening before. None of my kids had mentioned anything like this, and I couldn’t imagine that either of my boys would have come home from playing, sat down with the family to eat dinner, and never mention what had happened to Pudgy.

My neighbor told me that he was in the hospital and was not expected to live. There was a supermarket near my home, and this neighbor told me that Pudgy and two boys had been playing with carts from the supermarket and one had pushed the cart with Pudgy in it out into a major highway where it was hit by a car. Someone had told her that one of the boys had blond hair, and that was why she had assumed it was one of mine.

I quickly called my boys together and neither of them had been present. My neighbor told me what hospital he was in, so I went into my husband’s medical office, which adjoined the house. He was shocked, and as soon as he had finished his office hours, came into the house, refused lunch and said he was going immediately to the hospital to see what was going on. He said he was lead by God to lay hands on the child and pray for his healing. This was not a normal occurrence for him – although it wasn’t the only time my husband did this with miraculous results.

When he reached the local Catholic hospital, Pudgy was near death. The parents, Marylou and Jerry, had been told he would likely not live, or if he did, he would “be a vegetable.” Dick read the medical chart and said to the parents, “With my doctor hat, your son is very ill and going to die, but with my spiritual hat I am telling you he is going to recover.”

Pudgy was in a coma at this point, on a respirator, and non-responsive. He had severe head injuries. Dick laid hands on him and said, “Be healed in the name of Jesus.” With that, Pudgy coughed out his respirator and began breathing on his own. Dick left, and came home for lunch, and fully expected a miracle.

Dick went back to the hospital several days later and found Pudgy’s bed empty. Instead of panicking and thinking he was dead, he asked where they had moved the child. He was in a wheelchair in a solarium, not responding verbally, with eyes not focusing, but breathing on his own, and partly out of the coma. His parents said he had steadily improved after Dick’s prayer.

Pudgy remained in a semi coma, and I went in to see him and visited with Marylou. My children were also praying daily for their friend, and they decided I should take him in a particular gift. It was a game that required some intelligence to play. My son (the blond who wasn’t there, by the way) said that he didn’t want to send a sentimental type gift, but something that required Pudgy to be completely healed, and fully intelligent to play. He called it an “act of faith.”

Pudgy was discharged from the hospital shortly thereafter, and sent to a rehab – still not talking. One day, a week later, a nurse asked him a question, not really expecting an answer. Suddenly Pudgy answered, fully in control. A week later, he was home, hanging out in the neighborhood and riding his bike! He had missed a few weeks of school, but not one IQ point!

His healing was complete! And a miracle.

My husband never took any credit for this healing. He knew he was simply an instrument of God. God had directed him to go to the hospital, lay hands on Pudgy, pray for healing and then leave, and that's exactly what he did. Jesus was the healer.

Sandra C
Maine

Housing In Difficult Times

pmailletblogs@gmail.com (P Maillet) — Sun, 05 Oct 2008 16:03:00 +0000

“Even the sparrow has found a home”
Psalm 84:3a

One of the many testimonies in our lives is how the LORD provided in different housing-needs situations.

50 years ago my oldest brother was looking for a place to live in Amsterdam. The housing situation was as difficult as it is nowadays here in Jerusalem. Our mother prayed about this problem and received the above mentioned Scripture in her heart and believed that he would find a house soon. And so it happened! That was the beginning of many more similar situations.

In autumn of the year 1961 the LORD made it clear to my mother that we would soon be moving to a one-family house with a garden – a nearly impossible situation, but not for our heavenly Father. What happened next was that I came across a “home swap” advertisement in the window of one of my favorite bookshops, and against all odds it happened to be the right one! We moved in January 1962.

In 1979 it was my turn to find a house or a flat (apartment) because I married Petra in March of that year. We could start, however, living with my parents in the above mentioned house because another brother and sister had moved out by that time. But while we were on our belated honeymoon trip in Sweden in July, we received a message from home, "a flat is available for you" -and in the same neighborhood as my parents. Wow!!! Thank you LORD!

A few years later we moved again because we became caretakers of our church, and housing was provided above the church building. This was an important job because it prepared us for our new calling which would come a few years later, when we were called by the LORD to serve in Israel. In another special way, the LORD provided for a furnished apartment in Jerusalem.

The International Christian Embassy in Jerusalem where we work as volunteers soon provided for an even more suitable place, within walking distance from the main office.

We became close friends with another Dutch couple and they invited us to join them in a new adventure: community living! And again, this was to prepare us for a greater assignment to come. Again God provided the right house within the right budget.

It was a wonderful time and the LORD granted them two boys and opened our hearts to start fostering three special-needs children. After four years that house became too small, and we moved out when the LORD opened a door for our family to a very suitable apartment in the western part of Jerusalem, an area where we still live today.

In 1997 another special needs child came to live with us, and without our even having to ask for a larger place, the LORD again provided: a cottage with 6 rooms and a garden.

In the spring of 2001, Petra’s mother came over from Holland to live with us in Jerusalem!

Sad to say though, one of the kids had to be placed in another home because his behavior nearly caused Petra a nervous breakdown. The changing needs of the children, like climbing stairs, became more difficult, and with the daily transport to their schools, it seemed to point to a need for another house, which amazingly was already being built right around the corner! In August 2001 we moved into a 7-room villa, wheelchair accessible, 3 bathrooms, 2 balconies and a garage, and the children could be picked up in front of our door! And guess what! Our landlord was a medical doctor! He and his wife helped us later on to obtain permanent residence status in Israel.

To top this housing journey off, I can tell you that our good Dutch friends moved 5 years ago to our neighborhood also. They found their dream house 300 meters away from our house! How did that happen? One day I had a flat tire in the morning. During repairs in the garage near the petrol (gas) station, I met a man (also with a flat tire) who asked me if I knew of anybody who needed a real big house with 9 rooms etc.? Well, their ministry had expanded too and they really needed a big house. That same day it became clear that this was the house they had asked for!

The LORD is not only a great Provider but also has a great sense of humor.

W van der Zande
Israel

Simon's Story

pmailletblogs@gmail.com (P Maillet) — Sun, 28 Sep 2008 18:17:00 +0000

I had turned him down twice, and here he was again asking me to go for coffee with him. So I decided this time I'd go and explain to him why I was turning him down.

"I'm a Christian, you're a Jew," I said. "It wouldn't be right for either of us."

"Don't get me wrong," he said. I'm not looking for a wife, not even a girlfriend. My wife died 5 months ago and I can't seem to get out of this depression. I am just so alone. I asked God for a friend, man or woman, just a friend, anyone, someone to be with over a cup of coffee."

Funny, I had asked God for the same. At the International Christian Embassy in Jerusalem where I worked, maybe a third of the people were married. And most of the rest were young people doing what young people do. So I didn't fit in socially. The people at work really were wonderful. I'd never had a job I enjoyed as much as this one. But after work, I was alone and very, very lonely.

"Well this could work," I said, "if that's all you want. It would be nice to have someone to go places with. Would you be interested in helping me speak better Hebrew?"

"Absolutely!" he said.

As it turned out, that really WAS a good deal for me. I could only speak the language enough to make myself understood, and THAT with many mistakes. Like some other languages, Hebrew words have masculine and feminine forms, among many other things hard to get used to, and anyone with an English background would find it very difficult.

So we began meeting at "Arno's" in downtown Jerusalem every day after work. He would correct my Hebrew, and I would give him companionship. Life was good.

Those of you who aren't as naive perhaps as me, can probably predict the rest of the story. Yes, we grew close. I began to thoroughly enjoy those meetings every day after work, and came to greatly look forward to them. We couldn't be seen in public at first, because he wanted to honor his wife's memory by being discreet. "After the year has passed," he said, "we can start going out in public." And so we did. When the year had passed, instead of meeting indoors, we began strolling the streets of Jerusalem. I couldn't remember how long it had been since I was this happy.

One of the things I loved about Simon was that he was a great conversationalist. He was interesting to listen to, and he was truly interested in listening to me. My Hebrew improved daily. He couldn't speak English at all, so I was forced to speak only in Hebrew and that's truly the best way to learn a language, in fact I couldn't have learned any other way. Books and tapes, even Ulpan (Hebrew school) can only bring you so far. Speaking it is the only way to really learn a language.

Simon and I couldn't marry for quite some time. He still had two sons at home, and they did not want anything to do with me. They had been very close to their mother. On the day of their older brother's wedding, their mother had taken sick. After a period of testing and more testing, the doctors finally concluded that she had an illness common to Jewish people from Morocco, where both she and Simon had been born. The disease destroys the liver, and she eventually had to have a liver transplant. She was sent to a specialized hospital in France, where she stayed a year before she died.

What a sad story that was. She and Simon had started out life from the very bottom. When Simon left Morocco as an adolescent, he was smuggled out and left with only the clothes on his back. He stayed at an orphanage in France until reaching military age, and then was sent to Israel and went into the army. He told me that he remembered being overjoyed that he could count on having three meals a day. He had known what it was to be hungry. After he completed his military duty, he entered into an arranged marriage. They bought a small house. It wasn't anything to write home about, but it was all they could afford at the time. Years later, after working long and hard, they decided to completely redo the inside of the house. His wife oversaw all the details and turned that house into something anyone would be proud of. They stayed with relatives while the construction was taking place, and moved back in shortly before their oldest son got married. That very short period was to be the only time she would get to enjoy her new home. On the day of her son's wedding she took sick. She was sent to France, had the transplant but never recovered and died a year later.

So naturally, when their children found out that their father was seeing someone new, they wanted nothing to do with me. I can only imagine how hard it would be for them to know I would be in their mother's kitchen, which she had so lovingly designed. I never made any attempt to meet his children, because I thoroughly understood how they felt.

Actually it was good that there was a long period of time before we married. Both he and I brought a lot of "baggage" into the story. We were both very intense people, and sometimes that created problems. The "good" was very good, and the "bad" was very bad. Many times I would go to the Lord and stamp my feet and scream, "what on earth are you doing? This man is impossible!"

But it was obvious to both of us that it was the Lord's doing from the very beginning. Simon later told me his version of how we began. He said that approaching me three times was extremely humiliating to him. He said that if he ever were turned down by a woman even once, he would NEVER approach her again. "But," he said, "as I walked up Ben Yehudah Street and saw you standing there with those musicians you came to listen to each day, I actually felt as though there were a hand on my back pushing me in your direction. That happened not once, but three times," he said, "I actually physically felt as though a hand on my back was nudging me toward you. It had to be God, because my pride would never have allowed me to do that otherwise."

On my part, I felt a tremendous amount of compassion for someone who had gone through so much in life and was now so alone. Never did I intend it to become more than that, but as time went on I began to see the hand of the Lord in it over and over again, much to my amazement because we were not of the same faith. Several times I tried to end it, and the ways the Lord would bring us back together were absolutely dumbfounding. I even went back to the US after fulfilling my two-year commitment to the Christian Embassy, and those few months I stayed in the US were some of the most painful and frustrating months I had experienced in a long, long time.

I realized I shouldn't have left Israel. I prayed and prayed about this, feeling I should go back, but confused - I couldn't understand why the Lord would want me with a man who didn't share my faith. Finally, I put what some Christians call "a fleece" before the Lord. This is something I do not advise anyone to do except in the extremest of cases. It's one thing to need to know for sure in the case of a major life decision, but quite another to "test the Lord," which the Bible makes clear we are NOT to do.

The "fleece" goes back to the Biblical story of Gideon. Gideon could hardly believe that what God was telling him to do was really God saying it. So he suggested to the Lord some impossible thing and said that if this impossible thing would happen, he'd know it was God. In this story God did cause the impossible thing to happen so Gideon would know without a doubt that it was God speaking to him. In like manner, I suggested to the Lord that if He, God, would cause Simon to call me in the middle of the night Israel time, then I would know God wanted me back in Israel to complete the story he, God, had begun. Well ...shortly afterwards I was speaking on the phone with a friend. It was about 8:00 in the evening which would be 3:00 A.M. Simon's time - the middle of the night there - and there was a beep on the line. I switched over to see who it was. I could hardly believe it, and the hairs stood up on my arms when I heard his voice! It was Simon!!!

So, after a few more clear confirmations that I was doing the right thing, I went back to Israel. I noticed, too, that the date I returned to Israel turned out to be the same date, March 27, I had gone the first time. This in no way was planned by me that way. It just worked out to be the very same date. It was also Simon's birthday.

Before deciding to return to Israel, I had asked the Lord if there was any way He could put my life back exactly as it had been before, as though I had never left. The Lord is so faithful. He'll never let one of his children make huge decisions like this without being very, very clear that what they're doing is the right thing. One way He showed me that, was that not only did I return to the Christian Embassy, but I was housed in the very same apartment I had had before, and slept in the very same bed. The Embassy has more than 25 apartments, so this would have been almost impossible to happen outside of the direct action of the Lord. But that's not all -- at work I found myself at the very same desk I had left. Only God could do that. It just blew me away that after leaving and having someone else take over my job, I was able now to return to it exactly as it had been.

By this time, Simon's sons had left home. One married, and the other went into the military. Still, we didn't marry right away because he wanted me to study Judaism first. I did this gladly for him, because the point was to make me more acceptable to his family and friends, not including his sons, of course. And studying Judaism wouldn't be any threat to my Christain beliefs. After all, Jesus was a Jew, and will return as a Jew - to the Mount of Olives even! Finally, though, we married.

From the very beginning of this story, I told the Lord that if HE had any intentions of bringing Simon to the knowledge of Jesus, HE would have to do it alone because I vowed never to do to him - or to anyone else, for that matter -- what I had done to my first husband. In the case with my first husband, we had been married for nine years before I entered into the "born again" relationship with God. Having experienced God in a most remarkable way, I SO wanted my (first) husband to know him that way too. So I barraged him with books to read and tapes to listen to, and dragged him to this meeting and that conference, so desperate was I to share this new life with him, not realizing that my very efforts were having the opposite effect upon him. Later when I came to understand that, I decided I would never do that to another human being. Not only does it NOT WORK, but oftentimes it will turn the person AGAINST the Lord. Having seen this so clearly, I told the Lord that I didn't know his plans concerning Simon, but that I would not do to him what I did to my first husband. "He's all yours, Lord, but you'll have to bring him to yourself alone, if that's what you intend."

Simon loved to listen to my stories. He asked me about Jesus, "Yeshua" in Hebrew, and all I did was tell him the stories of how the Lord answered my prayers and did wonderful things in my life. He wanted to hear them again and again. I could see that Simon loved the Lord. I didn't "teach" him doctrine, all I did was tell him the stories. He told me stories too, of the Lord's guidance and provision in his own life. He didn't "know" Him intimately and personally as one does when they become "born again," but he knew that God had guided his life and always made provision for him.

One day Simon had a problem. His son had finished his army duty and now wanted to go to college. How to pay for his son's college education? He didn't have enough money to finance it. Would I pray, he wanted to know? He had heard so many of my stories of answered prayer, that it suddenly had occurred to him to ask me to ask the Lord to make a way for him to send his son to college. "Of course I'll pray," I told him.

Not long after, a man on the street stepped out of the crowd, approached him and told him that a relative of Simon's wife had willed his apartment to Simon because he had done some good deed to him along time ago!?!

He came home, stunned. He just sat there in his chair, trying to take this information in. All of a sudden he's the owner of an apartment someone just happened to leave him??? He couldn't believe it! He just sat there shocked. Upon looking into it, he found there were complications to the story. There was someone else who should have inherited the place. What to do? He asked me if I would mind asking "Yeshua" just one more thing, to show him what to do. I did, and of course the Lord came through and he ended up being the recipient of that property, which he rented out and thus had a way to pay his son's college education.

This blew his mind. All the way from not knowing about the apartment, to finding out about it in such an unusual way, shortly after asking for prayer that a way be made, and then to receiving it over the objection of someone else, thus making the ONLY way available to him to pay for his son's schooling! He knew beyond any shadow of a doubt, that "Yeshua" had answered his unlikely prayer.

Simon began telling his friends about how the Lord answered my prayers, and in the most remarkable ways! He told this to his sister, who had been kind, but not welcoming toward me, because I wasn't Jewish. So she spoke to another sister and the two sisters cooked up a plot to test me. His sister who lived in Haifa invited us to spend the weekend with them. Now this sister, Janet, was very welcoming towards me because she saw her brother happier than she had ever known him. Janet had a daughter whose husband was studying to be a rabbi. They asked if I'd like to meet this daughter as well as two other daughters who lived nearby.

So we went to the house of the budding rabbi.

After the initial pleasantries, we settled into the livingroom and in comes the rabbi-to-be, quite intimidating to someone who has never been in the same room with such a one, complete with dreadlocks and all dressed in black. He sat down and made some small talk very briefly, and then he asked me to tell them all why I came to Israel. Well it just so happened that that entire story was an amazing story of God's dealing with a daughter in a very, very sovereign way leaving no question whatsoever that this was an act of God. So I told the story, all in my not-so-good Hebrew (because they also didn't speak English.) The rabbi just sat there and listened intently. Afterwards, Simon said to me, "Now tell them the story of....." and then he asked for another and another of my stories, and the whole family sat there in rapt attention as I told one story after another among the many that he had heard from me.

Little did I realize that this was a setup, from which I'd be judged according to the pronouncement of the rabbi. After telling the last story, everyone's eyes turned to the rabbi. And suddenly I realized what was going on, and that this man was going to tell them what he thought of this Christian woman who had come into Simon's life. It's a good thing I didn't realize until later what was going on, because had I known I was "on trial," I would have been too nervous to tell these stories. But anyway, the moment had come and everyone awaited the rabbi's judgment.

He looked me right in the eye and said, "It's obvious to me .........that the Shekinah (glory of God) has been upon you."

When I look back at that moment, I can hardly believe it happened. They were impressed by my stories of God's guidance and provision, but I was impressed, no - I was shocked -- that an orthodox rabbi-in-the-making would ever pronounce with his lips such an observation about someone first of all not Jewish, and second of all a Christian. The Jewish people have been persecuted for centuries by "so-called" Christians -- and all many of them knew was that we thought of them as Christ-killers. So how God brought this about makes me shake my head in amazement to this day.

But there was a greater story taking place here. Little did I know it at the time, but this was only one part of God's moving upon Simon's heart. This was just a part, a necessary element in the story that would lead him to discover the Messiah.

A few months later, a friend of mine from the Christian Embassy came to visit. Simon liked Glen because Glen could speak some Hebrew and loved to try it out on Simon. So Glen came and sat down in the livingroom with us. After a short while, Glen asked Simon, "do you have a Bible?" So Simon got up and brought him his Bible. And Glen turned to Isaiah 53, which is a chapter in Isaiah that is omitted during the Jewish yearly scheduled readings. It's all about the Messiah.

Glen is an evangelist at heart, fully equipped by God to perform his role impeccably. I'd seen him in operation time and time again and was really awed at the way he reached people. But my heart sank when I saw what he was going to do, because I had never come onto Simon hot and heavy with doctrine. And I knew he was going to resent this. He had told me back in the beginning that he was born a Jew and he would die a Jew, and I had reassured him that I was 100% in agreement with that, and that was the truth. I never played games with him about this, I left him totally in the Lord's hands.

Glen opened up to the 53rd chapter of Isaiah and read it to him phrase by phrase, slowly, deliberately, asking him if there was anyone else who could have fulfilled this prophecy. Simon just sat there silently. Glen got up after awhile to go to the rest room, and Simon turned and glared at me, and I immediately said, "I did NOT put him up to this, Simon, I had NO idea he was going to do this." He believed me because he knew from the beginning that I always speak the truth. Glen returned, finished up the chapter, and then left, much to my relief. I was in no way expecting what was going to happen next.

The next morning Glen came into my office at the Christian Embassy. He said to me, "Do you know where Simon is right now?"

I answered, "at this time of day he would be on his way to the shuk, probably down on Ben Yehudah at this point...???"

"Yes, that's exactly where he is," Glen said.

"He's down on Ben Yehudah Street telling his friends that Yeshua is ....the MESSIAH! He's telling them that he saw it last night in the Tenakh (the Bible)!!!"

I couldn't answer. I was dumbfounded. I had no idea....

The next installment in the Lord's story with Simon took place during the Feast of Tabernacles. Each year the Christian Embassy hosts a week-long celebration of the Jewish Feast of Succot, or Tabernacles. Thousands of Christians from all over the world come to Jerusalem for the Feast. I worked in registrations. By the time the celebrations began, I had registered most of them who traveled in tour groups, usually five or six thousand. But during the seminars I had to sit in the lobby to register the many who came only for single sessions. This particular night was the opening session, and the convention center was packed. All seats were filled, and there wasn't even standing room left. The Prime Minister of Israel always spoke at our opening session.

Suddenly, the Lord spoke to my heart, "I want Simon in there tonight."

"Wha.....??? Lord, you know I can't get him in there, there's not a single place left, not even standing room!"

"I want him in there tonight."

So I decided to just wait on the Lord, because only HE could make this happen.

Simon had come to wait for me to finish up with registrations that night, and then we'd go home together. I said to him, "would you like to see how many people have come from all over the world to worship God in Jerusalem?" I took him over to the door and opened it, and there right in front of him was my good friend Nancy from the Christian Embassy, another of my friends that he liked.

The crowd were singing worship songs to the Lord, and many of them had their arms raised in praise to God. Nancy was standing there, her arms raised in worship, her eyes closed and tears streaming down her face.

Simon stopped short, stunned, and just looked at her. Then a man and woman got up from their seats and left, so he and I sat down. He didn't understand the speech by the Prime Minister because he spoke in English, but he experienced being in the midst of a people who loved God so much they would come to Israel to worship him with all of their hearts. He was very quiet.

Then after we left, he said to me, "Did-- you -- see ....."

"What, Simon?"

"Nancy."

"Yes, I saw her."

"She had tears pouring down her face."

"Yes. So?"

"Do you ....I mean, when you pray, ...uhh, do you pray like that?"

"Yes, why?"

"With your arms raised and tears?"

"Yes, sometimes."

"How come I've never seen you do that?"

"Because I don't show myself to you when I pray, I pray in the morning after you've left the house."

He didn't say anymore. He had witnessed something he had never seen in all his life - that a person can love the Lord so much that they'd pour out worship to Him as though they were standing right in front of Him, in wholehearted abandon with tears like floods flowing down their faces. I saw that realization penetrate his heart deep down in the very depths of him. God himself had touched his heart that night with an impact that would bring him to the edge of the Kingdom.

One other story was to take place in Simon's life, and I guess this is the one I appreciate the most.

Simon was, and had been for many years, addicted to cigarettes. He had asthma and cigarette smoking so weakened his lungs that he had frequent very serious asthma attacks. He knew he needed to stop smoking but he just couldn't do it.

One night after an asthma attack, he sat down with me in the livingroom and asked me to "ask Yeshua" to help him stop smoking.

"Simon," I said, "I've brought so many of your requests to him, and you've seen for yourself how he has answered them. I think it's time now, that you ask him yourself."

He squirmed in the chair, and his face got white.

I said to him, "you have nothing to fear, Simon, hasn't he only given to you kindness?"

He sat there and thought about it. And then very suddenly he got up, went into the kitchen and stood before the window facing the southern end of the Mount of Olives, he raised his hands as he had seen Nancy do, and he said, "Yeshua, please, I ask you to help me to stop smoking."

On witnessing this, my goosebumps had goosebumps. Now I was the one who was shocked.

To make a long story short, several months later his son called and told him he was coming over, he needed to discuss something with him. "Paula's here, b'ni." "I know, but I need to talk to you." So his son came over and I met him for the first time. He was cordial, shook my hand, and went into the livingroom and sat down. I sat down also, but didn't say a word, trying to fade into the background.

After talking for awhile, his son suddenly said, "Dad, where are the ashtrays?"

Simon didn't answer right away.

"Dad, you're not smoking???"

"No," he said.

"How long has this been?"

"About a year."

"A YEAR??? You haven't smoked in a YEAR!!? How did that happen?!?"

He couldn't tell his son that Yeshua had set him free. His son was spiritually where Simon was when I met him. He only said, "Paula prayed for me."

At that, his son slowly turned to me --and said, "maybe you'd pray for me too?"

And I have prayed for him, for him and his brothers ...ever since.

Life was "normal" for awhile, until one day when I came home from work to find Simon distressed. He asked me if I interpret dreams.

"No," I said, "why? Have you had an odd dream?"

"I dreamed," he said, "that I was trying to get to your home. It was across this highway that had a lot of traffic. When the cars stopped for the light, I tried to climb over them to get across to your home on the other side, but I couldn't. So then I tried to crawl under them, and I couldn't. The cars started moving again and I saw there was no way for me to get to the other side, to your home. But then, out of the blue, Yeshua (Jesus) came! He was so tall. He came and went into the traffic and stopped the traffic, parted the way for me, and I went across to the other side, to your home."

I sat there stunned, the hairs standing up stiffly on my arms, chills going down my back. Of course I understood the dream, but I didn't tell him that. Little did I realize that someday that dream would mean a lot to me but for now, I could only wonder why the Lord would give him a dream like that. There's a Scripture that says that Mary, Jesus's mother, when hearing words she did not understand, just kept them in her heart. And that's what I did at hearing this dream of his, I had no idea why he would have such a dream, so I just put it on a shelf in my heart. I knew that this dream of Yeshua parting the way for him so he could go to the other side -- contained the suggestion of the real meaning of "the other side." He was trying to get to my home? THIS was my home, the one I was living in with him. I didn't have any other home, I lived with him! So it was obvious that the dream portrayed a time when Yeshua would make the way across for him, to the other side, to my real home -which would become his real home too.

"These all died in faith, not having received the promises, but having seen them afar off were assured of them, embraced them, and confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth. For those who say such things declare plainly that they seek a homeland. And truly if they had called to mind that country from which they had come out, they would have had opportunity to return. But now they desire a better, that is, a heavenly country. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for He has prepared a city for them."
Hebrews 11:13-16

Simon was several years older than I was. He'd only live to be 63 years old when the Lord would come for him. I was in the US at the time, and received a phone call that he had been found dead. At first I didn't make all these connections, because I wasn't expecting him to die. And I descended into a shocked grief that wracked my soul. Before telling the next thing that happened, I need to lay the context for the reader to understand.

Many years prior to this, I was married to what the Bible calls "a head and shoulders man." In the Biblical story of Israel, the Israelites had demanded a king. God was not happy with them, because till now HE had been their King. But they demanded a king "like all the other nations," so he gave them a king. He gave them Saul, who was a "head and shoulders man," that is, Saul was tall -head and shoulders above most of the other young men - very good looking, charismatic and capable in war, the essence of what humanity would want for a king.

But Saul let them down and was unfaithful to God. This man they had on a pedestal failed them, and he ultimately brought so much wrath upon himself that he lost his kingdom and then his life. Then the Lord told Israel that now HE would give them a King of HIS choice. The prophet Samuel was told that the man of God's choice would be among the sons of Jesse from Bethlehem. So Jesse brought his oldest son before the prophet, but the prophet said, "no this isn't the one." So Jesse brought his next son, only to find that this one wasn't the one God would appoint either. Jesse brought each of his sons, one by one, before the prophet until the prophet said that no, none of these were God's appointed king. Finally, the prophet asked Jesse, "don't you have any other son, because none of these is the one God will appoint." "Well," said Jesse, "there IS one more, the youngest one, the runt, little freckle-face David, he's out tending the sheep, he's a singer of songs, not a man like Saul." The prophet tells Jesse to go get him. And when Jesse brought little David to him, the prophet said THIS IS the one!

God's ways are so far above our ways, as far as heaven is above the earth, he says. God wasn't interested in good looks, or height. David wasn't a man "head and shoulders" above the rest. He was a lowly sheep tender, a singer of songs. A lover of God. And one whom God loved.

A few days after I married Simon, the Lord had spoken to me, "blessed are you for not going after the younger men." He showed me that my first marriage was to a "head and shoulders" man, tall and handsome, successful in the ways of the world, brilliant and powerful, all the things a young girl would swoon at. That marriage, however, was a disaster. My first husband was Saul to me. God showed me when I married Simon, that he would be David to me.

So after receiving the call informing me that Simon had been found dead - he died of an asthma attack - I went to the Lord sobbing, crying my heart out, how could this be?!? "You delivered him from cigarettes only to let him die of another asthma attack?" The grief was overwhelming to me. And the feelings of guilt - if I had been there would he perhaps not have died? I'd been with him through countless asthma attacks and I just cringed at the thought of him going through that alone. I was overcome and overwhelmed with grief.

A few days later, the Lord spoke to my heart. He said to me, "go backwards in your Bible to find the chapter you read on the day Simon died." Feebly, I took my Bible and half-heartedly counted back that many days until I came to what I would have read on the day he died.

The tears stopped, and then started up all over again, this time not from grief, but from joy.

What I had read on the day Simon died, was the story of .......the death of King David!!! The day King David was taken "to the other side!"

And then I knew, I realized -that I had lived out a story that God had wrought from beginning to end. On my part it was learning that it's not height, beauty, or qualifications that God looks at, but the heart. The Lord had taught me this lesson by bringing me first through a King Saul marriage that miserably failed, to a King David marriage, one from God and for God's own purposes. The story ended with this little Jewish man from the other side of the world, who couldn't even speak English, had never met a Christian, but had a soft heart toward God, and incidentally loved to sing and often sang both to me and to God. This story brought him to recognize his Messiah and be led by him across the busy highway and on over, not only to my "home," but to his home now, there to live in the joy of the Lord for all eternity.

One of the characteristics of God's dealings with us is that we almost always are not given to understand the story we're in at the time, but are called to walk it in faith knowing that God brings about blessings beyond our ability to imagine if only we commit our way to him and walk each step in obedience, ESPECIALLY when it makes no sense to us. And it WON'T make sense to us until the Lord sheds light upon it later, sometimes YEARS later.

The story isn't over. The day will come when I'll be taken home, to my home "on the other side," and oh how wonderful is the joyful anticipation of it! No, it's truly not over. I long to see Simon again. I often try to picture in my mind how it must have been for him to stand before his Messiah who had parted the way for him so he could be taken to "my home," now also his home. I am in awe when I relive the story, a story I had no clue about as it was happening. I relish every segment of it and marvel at how the Lord put it together totally on his own, without my pestering Simon, as I had vowed never to do to anyone again.

I think back to the days before I went to Israel, to the days when the Lord told me to start learning Hebrew. At the time it was almost a joke. I had no idea why on earth the Lord would have me study Hebrew -- there aren't any Hebrew-speaking people in my town. But the Lord so kept that direction before my attention that I couldn't get away from it. Sometimes I'd shake my head at the absurdity of taking on the learning of such a foreign and difficult language, and I'd put it aside because what I was doing seemed ridiculous to me. But each time I put it aside, the Lord came right back at me with the command to go back to it. It was uncanny.

So I studied the language - for three years - with no understanding whatsoever why I should do such a thing. Little did I know -- oh boy, how I had NO idea -- that I was being prepared to take the message of the Messiah to one little Jewish man on the other side of the world, one who didn't speak English at all, therefore I had to know his language, one who had never in his life met a Christian. When I sit back and take the whole story in, it just overwhelms me to realize the extents God will go to in order to bring one person to himself.

So husbands, wives, don't badger your spouse. God is well able to reveal his salvation to them, but will be HINDERED if you get in the way and do things or say things that will cause them to feel like they're under pressure. They will only resent you for it. Take yourself OUT of the way! And just pray for them. God is well able to do super-abundantly beyond all that you ask or even think. Trust him.

He is trustworthy.

P Maillet
Maine

Angels In Atlanta

pmailletblogs@gmail.com (P Maillet) — Sun, 14 Oct 2007 21:36:00 +0000

My mother had warned me about booking a flight that had a layover in Atlanta, she had had a bad experience there. But it was the only choice I had, really, in booking a flight my pocketbook could afford.

It was a beautiful summer day in Portland, Maine as my daughter and I sat in the terminal awaiting my boarding time. We sat at one of those little snack shops with tables outside, and we watched the people - a favorite pastime for both of us. I didn't know how long I'd be gone, and had asked her husband if he'd clear the snow off my car in the wintertime if I was away that long.

Our chit chat was interrupted by the announcement, "preparing to board flight 4721 to Atlanta." We got up and hugged each other really tight, not knowing how long it would be until we'd see each other again.

No sooner had we taxied to the runway, the captain announced on the intercom, "ladies and gentlemen, there's a delay in traffic headed over New York, but don't worry, this isn't unusual and many times these things clear up within a short time. It could be as short as five minutes, but it could be up to an hour. We'll let you know anything we find out."

So we sat on the runway, for what turned out to be a half hour. Originally, I had a fifty-minute layover in Atlanta, but now that was pared down to twenty minutes in which to make my next flight going to San Diego. But I've flown a lot, and I remembered that another time we were delayed on the runway, but the pilot was able to make up the lost time during the flight. So I reassured myself that the lost time would be made up, and sat back and commanded myself to relax and enjoy the flight.

Many years ago, when I found myself frequently traveling alone across the Atlantic and Mediterranean seas, the Lord gave me a promise and wonderfully confirmed it to me, "you are blessed in your goings out, and blessed in your comings in." When the Lord speaks to us, he will always confirm the message so that we will know it really is from him. Having received that word from the Lord, along with a very real confirmation of it, and then someone later handed me a key chain with those very words on it, that sealed it in my heart and from then on I always had peace while flying great distances, knowing I was covered by the blessing of the Lord.

These thoughts came back to me as I sat in that plane on the runway in Portland. I knew that I was accompanied by the Lord's blessing and that if I was delayed, there was a specific reason for it and that it would work out for the good.

Well, the pilot didn't make up the lost time and by the time I got off the plane and made my way to the next gate, my connection had already left. It was after ten o'clock at night and I had no idea what to do. The situation was further complicated - I was traveling to California to be with my mother who had fallen and was hospitalized with a broken bone in her back. My sister would be picking me up at the airport in San Diego, and I knew she wouldn't go home to check for telephone messages, but would just go to the airport directly from the hospital, because returning home first would have put her well out of her way. Telephone message? I didn't even have a cell phone, (something that is going to be corrected very soon.) How could I reach my sister to tell her not to head out to the airport?

As I arrived at the service desk in Atlanta, I found myself in a crowd of hundreds of people who also had been delayed and missed their connections. I later found out that all air traffic over New York had been suspended for awhile that afternoon, so that meant that anyone flying south over New York was going to be late. When I saw the hundreds and hundreds of people gathered at the service desk, my heart sank. It was a very long wait in line, and when I finally got to the desk it was after midnight. I was distraught. I blurted out in no genteel manner that my mother is lying in a hospital bed and I'm on my way to be with her, and my sister is going to be going to the airport in San Diego to pick me up, and I HAVE to get there tonight!

But of course, that was impossible. I wasn't much comforted when they told me they'd put me up in a hotel and get me out first thing in the morning. "But how am I going to let my sister know?" I asked in exasperation. There was a woman standing beside me, in the very same circumstances I was in, and she offered to let me use her cell phone. What a relief! I suddenly
remembered that I had my sister's cell phone number on me, I dug it out and called her, hoping she'd be able to receive the call within the hospital walls. There was no answer. So I called her house and left a message on her answering machine, my heart now in a fit of exasperation. Something nudged me to try her cell phone again, and finally I reached her and blurted out to her that I wouldn't be coming in tonight and how relieved I am to be able to get ahold of her to tell her that. I told her I'd be in touch with her the next day as soon as I find out the details of my next flight.

I wasn't calmed down, though. The frustration of the delay, the long wait in line, and the difficulty reaching my sister had just about done me in. It was late, I was tired, and I wasn't a good example of a daughter of the Lord at that point. In contrast, was the woman who had let me use her cell phone. She was delayed too and obviously missed her connection as well, it was late for her also, but she was so calm and peaceful that I kept watching her throughout this story with a deep-down feeling that her demeanor was incredibly odd at a time like this. It turned out that they gave her a hotel voucher to the same hotel I was being sent to, so she invited me to go along with her to catch the shuttle to the hotel. Invited me? At that point I would have held on to her coat to make sure wherever she goes I was going to go.

We walked and walked, she oddly seemed to know the way, no detours or mistakes, just straight to the shuttle parking area. It reminded me of the plane terminal in Portland, a long wide cement sidewalk with spaces for the various shuttles to park and pick up people headed for the various hotels in Atlanta. There were no assigned parking places, each incoming shuttle bus just took the first empty space available. We tried to get to the edge of the walkway, but it was almost impossible because there were hundreds, if not thousands, of other people in the same circumstances doing the same thing. We snaked our way to the very end where the busses rounded the corner and waited. After an incredibly long wait, finally we saw the shuttle with the name of our hotel on it come around the corner. Wouldn't you know, the first empty parking space was down the other end. So we pushed and shoved our way to the shuttle, only for the driver to close the door just as I put my foot onto the bottom step. "Filled up," he said. I wanted to cry - and was on the verge of tears when the woman with me said, "come on, we'll take a taxi."

"A taxi?" I cried, "look at all the people here, the taxi driver will take advantage of us and charge an enormous rate to get us to the hotel."

"We're taking a taxi," she replied in a calmness that gave me goose bumps all up and down my spine. Somewhere on the subconscious level I knew this lady's calmness was more than what would be humanly possible under circumstances like this. But I was so tired and so frustrated that I just followed her, protesting all the way.

Finally we came to some taxis, got into one, and as we rode mile after mile my heart sank as I contemplated what the fee for this was going to be. We arrived at the hotel and the woman paid the driver. I asked her what the charge was so that I could give her my share. "It wasn't much," she said, "he didn't take advantage of us." As we walked into the hotel I was poring through my purse for cash to give to her and she said rather authoritatively, "don't worry about it, I've paid for both of us," and she would not take a cent. I usually would have insisted, but I was just too tired to argue.

The hotel lobby was just as crowded as the shuttle area had been. Finally we got to the desk and handed the clerk our vouchers. "Oh, we're not taking any more vouchers," she said, "we're filled up."

I was too tired to cry. I just stood there stunned. It was after one in the morning and here we were stranded at a hotel a few miles from the airport.

"What are we supposed to do?" I blurted out to the hotel clerk.

"Go back to the airport," she said.

I felt the blood draining from my head. The thought of spending the night in the airport just overwhelmed me.

Then suddenly two young women approached us, maybe in their early twenties, who overheard our conversation and they said to us, "here, we have two rooms but we only need one, really. Take the key to our second room, there are two beds in ours so it really won't be an imposition." ! ! !

Now that I look back on the story, it boggles my mind that while I was standing helpless in the lobby of the hotel that was turning us away at later than one in the morning, there were two persons standing near us who just handed over the key to their second room and would receive no payment for it. I mean -- that just doesn't happen! When I think of what the Lord had to put together in order to provide for me that night, each factor having to happen exactly on time while I was in the midst of hundreds of people, all I can say is that this story and many others like it over the years has left me with no possible doubt that the Lord is FAITHFUL to his promises. He had promised me years back that his blessing was upon me as I traveled, my travels always having been at his direction and for his purposes. It's when we're at our wit's end that the Lord rises up and demonstrates in obvious and undeniable ways his faithfulness. He had given me his word. And now he was making good on it.

The woman I had been with from back at the airport service desk took the key from the young woman's hand and I followed her up to the room. During this entire venture, she continued willfully and without hesitation, as though she was familiar with the whole airport layout, the shuttle layout, and the hotel layout. She never hesitated, and I just followed her every purposeful step.

When we arrived at the room, she told me that her next flight in the morning would be leaving before mine, and reminded me to return the key to the desk in the lobby. Then, she said as she looked out the window toward the McDonald's golden arches, she was going out to get something to eat. -- umm, going out to eat at 2:00 in the morning after an ordeal such as we had just come through??? I collapsed on the bed and never saw her again. I know she spent the night in the hotel room because I vaguely remember her speaking to me in the morning, saying "I'm leaving now. Don't forget to return the key to the desk. "

In the morning, I was shuttled back to the airport and was on my way to San Diego. I was to stay there helping my sister care for our mother. And the Lord put the icing on the cake. After her initial difficulties, our mother was HEALED. This is the honest truth. Her doctor told us that she hadn't expected her to survive the fall she took, and was just shocked when we went back for her monthly checkup. She said that our mother was "a walking miracle." I asked if she was just using that expression to convey her amazement at our mother's unexpected recovery and she said that no, she meant exactly what she said - our mother had obviously been supernaturally healed.

Wasn't it the Spirit of the Lord who came upon me that first night at my sister's home, when we prayed together before starting together on this mission? He had spoken to my heart exactly what to do, to pray all around our mother's bed and that my sister and I were to anoint each other. We spent quite some time praying that night, with the very strong sense that every part of our prayer was being led by the Spirit of God. The next morning, my mother couldn't remember my name. But in the short time I was there, we saw this healing take place right before our eyes. It didn't happen instantly so we didn't recognize it as a supernatural healing. But day by day she improved, getting off all medication, and even ceased using the brace the orthopedist had had specially made for her. We had asked how long she would have to wear that bulky and uncomfortable brace and were told "for the rest of her life." But now here she was sitting in the doctor's office, legs crossed at the knee comfortably, and the doctor was almost speechless.

"This is incredible," the doctor said. "When I read the hospital report on you, I said to myself, 'this is the end of Mrs. M!' I can't believe you're sitting in this chair with one leg crossed over the other like this. You should be in terrible pain, or not even alive!'"

That was her first visit back to the doctor, but shortly after that visit she was so well that she was able to dispense with the brace. Finally, one day she said to me, "I'm fine now, you have no need to stay any longer." What I had expected to be months or more, IF she survived, had taken only weeks and I returned home - without incident.

The key to this story is knowing what the Lord will speak to one's heart and then standing on that word when it's challenged. Not everyone experiences angels or witnesses healing. It's not something one can demand from the Lord. But once he has spoken a personal promise, that's to be taken seriously and claimed when a challenge to that promise arises. The Lord took me through the Atlanta airport story to demonstrate to me the absolute faithfulness and trustworthiness of his Word, in this case his promise that I am blessed when I travel. He had to pre-arrange that my flight would be on that day, through that airport, and he had to make sure that woman - human or angelic I don't know - would be standing right next to me as I arrived amid the hundreds of people at the airport service desk. He had to pre-arrange that later, as we stood in the large crowd at the hotel at later than 1:00 in the morning, there were to be two other women who would just happen to be standing next to us, overhear the hotel clerk refuse to take us, and give us their room so that we had a bed to sleep in and not a chair in the airport terminal, and he arranged that all provision would be at no cost to me. And then having done all that, he provided the further and unexpected blessing of healing our mother who had a broken bone in her back that was inoperable.

As I sit here back in my own home and review all these events, goose bumps again rise up from the top of my head to the soles of my feet as I realize all the Lord had to do to put this story together so that my faith would be strengthened in the light of his demonstration of his total faithfulness and trustworthiness. Sometimes I wonder if other people can see the crown on my head as I walk around - so impotent in myself - but incalculably blessed as a walking daughter of The King.

But, one might ask, why would God put me through the rigors of this story seeing that I have his promised blessing when I travel?

For you, dear reader. So I could tell this story to encourage you, to strengthen your faith, to inspire confidence in the faithfulness and trustworthiness of the Lord, that you might take another look at your own stories and perhaps see with a new eye the faithfulness of our God throughout our walk with him, if only we can look beyond the human and perceive the divine.

“…who comforts us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort those who are in any trouble, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.”
2nd Corinthians 1:4

Paula M
Maine

God Turned A Curse Into A Miracle

pmailletblogs@gmail.com (P Maillet) — Mon, 24 Sep 2007 22:00:00 +0000

It was the day after Christmas. Our daughter Lesley was 6 months old. At the time she was the youngest of 5 children. My husband, a physician, had recently taken an interest in helping treat drug addicts in our area of New Jersey, and was doing some work at a local treatment program. He also had a private family practice.

So on this quiet day, after all the exuberance of the exciting holiday, I was sitting at my dining room table, taking a few moments to look through unopened Christmas cards that I had been too busy to read. In the meantime, my husband, five miles away, had just had an encounter with a drug addict who was an avowed satanist. We had been Christians for about 5 years or so at this time, and my husband began to witness Christ to this man, who took offense and said he was putting a curse on my husband, and said satan would cause great trouble for him that day. My husband rebuked him, and after the man left, my husband, who had planned to do several errands, began to feel very sick at his stomach and had to come home.

Our baby, Lesley, was in her playpen. She was showing signs of a cold, so I had made an appointment to take her to her doctor. I asked my oldest daughter who was 11, to bring me the baby so I could get her ready for the appointment. "Mom," she cried out," there's something wrong with the baby!" Lesley was limp and scarcely breathing. It seemed as though each breath would be her last!

Just then, my husband came into the house, and saw that it looked like the baby was dying, and said, "Let's go." I grabbed a blanket for her and we got into the car and headed to the nearest hospital about 5 miles away. Generally it was not a long trip in distance, but it was long because of a lot of traffic. We even drove partly on the wrong side of the road, racing against time. We prayed all the way to the hospital, begging God to spare her life, while I tried to breathe air into her mouth. Nothing changed.

When we arrived at the hospital, we ran into the emergency room, and the doctors grabbed her and began working on her. They were giving her oxygen, but still she remained limp and not responsive and would not begin to breathe on her own. We all stood around the examining table, when suddenly a mental picture of my father-in-law came into my mind!

My husband and I were still working out the intricacies of our Christian walk at this point. He had been raised Roman Catholic; I had been raised Methodist but had had a falling out with the church as a young adult as it failed to answer my questions about my faith. So at this point we were simply calling ourselves Christians with no other label. We attended a church and a weekly prayer meeting but we were not identifying ourselves by the denomination. We had also decided that we believed that baptism was to be done as a believing adult not as a baby. So unlike our older children, Lesley was not baptized. But when I had this picture of my husband's father deeply mourning this unbaptized baby, I blurted out to my husband, "She isn't baptized! Your father will not understand why!"

I did not really like my father-in-law. And it was me to whom God spoke, not to my husband. My father-in-law was nothing like my gentlemanly father, rather he was rough, tough, generally angry, and knew every swear and foul word in existence and probably invented a few. He also had some brain damage from a construction accident that limited his ability to think rationally and he often latched onto a topic and couldn't let go of it. I respected that he was my husband's father, but I did not respect the person.

Before we became Christians, my very Catholic in-laws prevailed in the area of having to have the children baptized right away. I had resentments about that because my family's feelings were completely ignored. They treated me as a second-class citizen in matters of religion. We were to raise the children Catholic and I had nothing to say about it or anything pertaining to it.

My husband was saved in 1966 at a retreat right before he went to Vietnam. I was saved after he returned. We were involved with the Catholic charismatic movement at its earliest stages in the Philadelphia area, but the leadership of the group was not particularly open to Protestants being involved - God forbid that one might take communion! Eventually we left that group
and, with some friends, established a non-denominational group in NJ. When my husband left the Catholic church and became a Methodist, his whole family blamed me! I guess in their eyes, I went from no power to ultimate power.

So it was the strangest thing for me to entertain in my mind at this awful moment -how my father-in-law would feel! It flashed through my mind also that 11 months earlier my 11 year old nephew died in an awful accident and how my father-in-law was so angry at the driver of the car who hit him on his bike, and how the anger never seemed to leave him. He ranted on and on. The fact that our baby Lesley was unbaptized had no significance to her salvation in either my husband's or my eyes, but I became instantly aware that it would add much pain for this man. And for God to place this thought in my mind at this moment was totally outside my reality. I didn't even think to hesitate and the words just came out.

So upon hearing my words, the staff in the Catholic hospital was horrified, and said they would call a priest. My husband said, "no, I will do it," and immediately got a cup of water from the sink and poured it over her head, baptizing her in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.

Then the most amazing thing happened -- Lesley came back to life -- breathing normally and wanting to be held and hugged! Everyone in the room was just stunned -- including us!

In all, they kept her in the hospital for about 10 days. The doctors suspected all kinds of terrible diseases including SIDS, Cystic Fibrosis, Leukemia and a few others, but all tests were negative and I took home a normal healthy child!

A few months later, my husband and I and our older children were baptized by immersion. While we still believed that we were to be baptized as believing adults, we knew that God had worked a miracle of healing in an infant baptism - to touch the heart of a bitter man.

Baptizing our baby in that hospital had been an involuntary and automatic act of obedience for me, and Dick had just jumped right in as soon as the words were out of my mouth. It became a witness of the power of God and the leading of God in desperate circumstances. And obedience, especially when one does not at all understand why God would direct in such an unusual way, always leads to unexpected blessing and in this case, an actual miracle.

There were people who worked in the ER who came up to Lesley's hospital room each day during the time she was an inpatient, because they had been witnesses to a miracle. Years later when we moved to Maine and I was working at a local hospital, I met a doctor who had been working in that same emergency room in NJ the same day we brought in our dying daughter, and he remembered the event and brought it up to me, saying he was still amazed by it!

Sandy C
Maine

All Desire For Cigarettes Vanish

pmailletblogs@gmail.com (P Maillet) — Fri, 24 Aug 2007 21:55:00 +0000

This a simple story, but one that may encourage someone who smokes.

Almost 17 years ago I wanted to quit smoking. I was trying things like "CigArrest." I did quit once for a month. But I was again having the hardest time to quit.

I started to give it to the Lord. I would give it to Him, then take it back, until one evening at a Bible study when the Pastor called for prayer, I felt the Lord nudge me in my heart and say "ask for peace." I was confused about it. But I decided to obey even though it didn't make sense to me. I went up for prayer and asked for peace in my situation.

Well that night the Lord delivered me from cigarettes. Suddenly, I didn't have cravings or strong desire to smoke. I even smelled my hands and they didn't smell like nicotine.

It's hard to explain. I suddenly had the ability to overcome the desire to smoke. I was never able to do this on my own before this. In November it will be 17 years. He's a good provider.

Donna P
Maine

His Radiance In The Storm

pmailletblogs@gmail.com (P Maillet) — Wed, 22 Aug 2007 23:16:00 +0000

While looking at this blog and the wonderful uplifting stories here, I decided I should write this about this one particular story in my life and my walk with the Lord.

I lived in Virginia from 1977 till 1981. I wish I knew exactly what date it was, and, perhaps I do have it recorded in one of my many notebooks, but I don't have it readily available now. I was getting ready for bed and there were storm warnings that night. I cannot remember all the particulars or why I would have been troubled because I have always been one of these strange people who like thunderstorms and find a lot of peace and quiet during them.

On this particular night, just as I closed my eyes, I was not sleeping yet, I saw in the distance, like at the end of a tunnel, a figure dressed in white with a blue sash with His arms upward in a praising attitude. I could not clearly see His face because it was a long tunnel and all was radiant around Him. I knew it was the Lord. There were lightning bolts all around Him and thunderclouds but they could not get through the radiance to touch Him. I sat up in bed and wondered why He let me see this and what it represented. I never found out except there was a tornado that touched down a short distance from us later that night and a huge tree fell about ten feet from our window. I did not wake up at all during that tremendous storm!!!

I have always known He is watching over me and I guess that was His way of showing me during a storm. I do not think I can put into words how really beautiful and special this was but that's my best shot.

Phyllis H
New York

A Car AND A Bonus

pmailletblogs@gmail.com (P Maillet) — Mon, 20 Aug 2007 23:14:00 +0000

Before my wife and I were married, I had a car with 200,000 miles on it and it was at its end and I needed a new car and was saving up for one.

An evangelist came to our church, a missionary to Africa. He was trying to raise funds to get a Land Rover, one of those safari-type jeeps because that would be the only way to get around in that part of the world.

That night they were taking offerings for him, and suddenly the Lord put it on my heart to take the money I had been saving for a new car, and get that Land Rover for him. So I did. And that was definitely the Lord who put that on my heart, it surely didn't come from me.

Right after that I got a promotion and it came with a brand new El Camino. And I got a raise with the promotion, and I had been looking at a Corvette, so I ended up with a Corvette AND the El Camino.

Later on, that incident is what brought my wife to me. She was in the church when the car incident took place. And later on we were dated, but at the thought of marriage she hesitated because she wanted to be married to a minister or a pastor. But when she prayed about it, the Lord reminded her of the car incident and told her he looks at the HEART, not the position, and gave her the go-ahead to marry me.

Mike Anderson
California

He Sought Me From Age Three

pmailletblogs@gmail.com (P Maillet) — Mon, 20 Aug 2007 22:56:00 +0000

I was born to two sad, worldly people who had no hope. My mom maintained that she was an atheist because she was mad at God for letting her sister - the only family member she was close to - die in a car wreck. (Now that I am an adult, I find that hilarious. How can you be mad at someone you don't believe in?) My dad was simply a man busy meeting his own "needs" (read: philanderer). He left us when I was eight years old.

Even though my mother was "anti" God, she still had an incongruous sense of "holiness." For example, I remember once when I was six or seven that I had lost a toy hammer. I prayed for God to help me find it and BAMMO, there it was! I'm not really sure what happened, but at the time it seemed very clear to me that God had answered my childish prayer by dropping my toy right out of the sky. It was a miracle!When I excitedly told Mom about the incident, she got VERY upset. "You don't talk about God like THAT!" and she grabbed the toy hammer away from me.She wasn't so much upset that I was talking about God as that I was talking about God like THAT - as though He were personal and intimate and cared about a little seven year-old girl (or perhaps, her hurting mom.)

We also had a family Bible which was treated with GREAT respect by this woman who didn't believe in God, but was afraid of angering this God who didn't exist. Ya know, I think what she really believed was that He did exist, but that He didn't pay any attention to you unless you made Him angry. She was mad at Him AND very afraid of Him.

At any rate, when I was three (or so I am told. I don't remember this personally), a friend of my mom's invited her and my dad to come visit her Baptist Church. My dad wasn't interested, but for some strange reason my mom decided to go. She slipped in quietly and perched on the very back row. Up until that day she had never been in a church except for a funeral, nor had she ever heard the Gospel. Naturally, she brought me with her.The hymns were sung, the sermon was preached. Then the pastor did something my mom had never seen before. He presented the Gospel and gave an altar call: "Have YOU been living in your trespasses and sins? Just ask Jesus into your heart and He will wash away all your sins and forgive you. Do YOU want new life and joy? Do YOU want Jesus in your heart? "Well, I'm sad to say that my mom wasn't ready yet; She didn't understand it all. BUT, reportedly, I DID respond. And did I respond in a quiet, demure, shy manner? Of course not! I responded in truest Groovy form by leaping off my mama's lap and running up the aisle yelling (yes, yelling in church in 1966!,) "I WANT JESUS! I WANT JESUS IN MY HEART!"

Oh! My poor Mother! She was positively mortified! Her plan had been to sneak out quietly right after the last "Amen", but now... Apparently the pastor prayed with me and then dismissed the service. Everyone was bubbling and laughing over the adorable (albeit loud) 3 year-old and they all headed straight for my dear ole mother to shake her limp hand and congratulate her etc. All that time her mind was racing wildly and her heart was pounding. All she wanted to do was grab me and get OUT. It was very traumatic for her!Needless to say, it was a looooooooong time before I ever got to church again!

We moved alot when I was growing up and we did not go to church. But it seems that almost everywhere we lived God raised up a friend or neighbor who offered to take me to their church. I didn't go often, but I remember visiting here and there with those kind souls. In the meantime, my dad left and my mom was thrown into a world of single parenthood. I became a latch-key kid while she worked anywhere from 1-3 jobs to keep us afloat. She joined "Parents Without Partners" and things took a real downhill slide for her in the "man" department. Her boyfriends were basically a long line of losers! Finally, she settled into a relationship with E.K. He was a REAL creep. He abused her and controlled her and told her if she ever bolted, he'd kill her. Thanks to his filthy influence, there was porn in our home. Softcore Playgirl, which my mom actually showed me and hardcore stuff hidden in the hall closet. She still doesn't know that I saw those. Nor does she know that my brain will forever bear those images!

Having had so little discipleship, and little moral guidance from my mom - she was still trying to figure that out herself - I slid into some very worldly philosophies and sensuality. When I was 11 years-old, my life goal was to become a Playboy Bunny! Fortunately, God had other plans! Eventually, my mom grew so frightened of E.K. that she pulled out a map of the U.S.A. She had me close my eyes and point. My finger landed on Orlando, FL. She and I packed up our clothes and some personal items, bought (rented?) an RV and moved temporarily to Austin, Texas ...then to Orlando.

Although my moral moorings were confused and weak, I had a strong confidence that there was a God who heard me when I prayed. I had no Biblical understanding of Who He really was or how I fit into His plans, but in my own way, I trusted Him. He was faithful to not allow me to continue wandering in confusion. In 7th grade a friend invited me to her church, Calvary Assembly of God in Winter Park, Florida. That's where everything began to change for me. As I went to the Jr. High "Rock House" meetings with her and then to "adult" church, God began opening my eyes. I began to see that God was more than a helpful friend to bail me out when I was in trouble, He was the Almighty, the Ruler, the King of all Kings. It was time for me to move beyond believing He existed for me, to believing that I existed for Him! I began to read the Bible on my own at home and listen to Christian music (Is WAJL still on the air?) I tried, clumsily, to put into practice the truths I learned at church and in the Rock House. God had begun to change me, to start that lifetime process of making me like Jesus in heart and mind and action.

Though I was far, FAR from the perfect teen, my mom couldn't help noticing the burgeoning metamorphosis. I was wearing more modest clothing, I wasn't as smart-mouthed with her (I had been a pretty bratty only child until then!) I was insisting she get rid of the coffee mugs with our horoscope signs on them, I insisted that we pray over our meals, I talked about God and church and the Bible and "Did you know...(insert Bible teaching of your choice)?!?"

At first she was scared that I was being brain-washed. I didn't know it until after the fact, but she actually had an appointment for me to meet with a counselor so I could be "deprogrammed." Before that meeting she decided to come to church with me one Sunday and see what was going on for herself. The first Sunday drew her right in and within a few weeks, she was even crazier than I was! She asked the Lord to wash away her sins, bought a Bible and started reading it. She quit smoking cold turkey and stopped drinking Wild Turkey. She wanted to be in that church any and every time the doors were open! We were baptised together a few weeks after she accepted Christ and she mmediately put her spiritual gift of evangelism to work by LOUDLY telling EVERYONE in the restaurant after church that God had saved her and taken away her urge to smoke and wasn't that amazing and didn't they all want to come to church and get to know Him too ????!!!!!!!!!!

We'd come full circle and now she was embarassing me! Over the years, we've both had our stumblings and our hic-cups and our rebellious moments, but even when we were faithless, HE remained faithful. He has not allowed either of us to walk away from His Love and Truth. As the song says, "Although there were times I stepped out of His will, I've NEVER been out of His hands."

Sherry G
Maine

When I Was So Alone

pmailletblogs@gmail.com (P Maillet) — Mon, 20 Aug 2007 22:50:00 +0000

Many years ago I was in the process of having a nervous breakdown. The hardest part about it was that I felt guilty because there was no reason that I could see, why I was in this condition, and how could I be so ungrateful when I had everything I wanted in life! Yet I couldn't stop the process from taking me over. I was crying every day, and nothing I did seemed to help.

I tried volunteer work to get my mind off myself, and it only made my condition worse. My husband was like an angel sent from God to me. He never put me down, nor would he accept my condition as being abnormal. He figured I just needed to get out of the house, or... something.

Anyway, I knew I was very sick. My husband, a career Marine, was sent away on duty by the military, and I spent three entire weeks in bed, never getting up for anything except to go to the bathroom. I cried out to God to either take me (I was not afraid of dying) or to do something.

The very next day after I prayed this, I got a knock on the door. It was a new neighbor who had just moved in next door. She started telling me about how God had set her whole family free from drugs and alcoholism. I thought that was wonderful, but I couldn't relate since I didn't have those particular problems in my life. She invited me to an Amway meeting, which I went to with her. There I was drawn to the speaker and went up to her afterwards and asked her how she could be so happy. I figured it must be that God sent her Amway as a Christian organization and support group, so I decided to go into Amway.

Well ....my husband was furious, and because he wouldn't support me, I quickly got out of it. However, when he was gone, this woman spent an entire week with me in my home talking to me about the Lord. At one point something happened, and I began to receive hope that the Lord could help me. After she left, I noticed a tract that someone had given me with "the four spiritual laws," and my eyes were opened to Scripture.

The Holy Spirit started teaching me about Scripture, and soon I was flying high with the truth I had never known before. Ever since then I have been walking closely with God, and no one could ever take away from me the things He has taught me. The truth certainly did set me free, for after I discovered that God’s power could take care of my problems, I was delivered from the bondage of depression I had been under. I came to see that I had been carrying a false burden of guilt that was too heavy for me, and it was literally driving me crazy. When I realized that it was not my own goodness that I had to develop, but rather that which comes by faith in the power of God and the work of Christ on the cross, I was truly liberated from the darkness that had threatened to destroy me. Nothing good I had ever done gave me the joy I discovered when the truth set me free. Just this joy alone was enough to convince me of the greatness of the work of God I had heard about but had never understood, which is the death and resurrection of Christ and what that meant for ME!

I started to realize that I was not the only one who was experiencing this enlightenment. At that time the Charismatic Renewal was strong in all the denominational churches, and people who spoke of the “Baptism of the Holy Spirit” were talking about and experiencing something different than I had ever heard of before. All they wanted to do was go to prayer meetings, sing to the Lord, devour Scripture, and pray for others. I thought I was in heaven. It's all I've ever wanted since then. I truly understand what it means to have the “rivers of living waters” flow through you. They satisfy a spiritual thirst that the natural mind cannot understand or explain.

Faith has the ability to “move mountains,” and I just found it amazing to be among people who believe that their every need is met in Christ alone, who know that He is the answer to every problem in life, and who have the fire of the Holy Spirit burning inside them causing them to have the spiritual desire to pray for others, to love others, and to be transformed into the image of Christ. This manifested to me the unity Jesus prayed to the Father about before He left this earth, praying that everyone be likeminded with the “mind of Christ.” And that proved to me to be a miracle in itself.

Cindy J
California

My Brief Taste Of Heaven

pmailletblogs@gmail.com (P Maillet) — Mon, 20 Aug 2007 22:46:00 +0000

I was praying one night, and had gone quite deeply into worship. I remember saying to the Lord,"I feel so close to you right now, almost as though I could reach out and touch you."

Very suddenly, I found myself being taken through some kind of tunnel, and I was so terrified I just screamed and screamed as some force propelled me through that tunnel at incredible speed.

But the fear evaporated when I reached the end of the tunnel and found myself bathed in such incredible peace and love, the likes of which I had never experienced in my lifetime.

I saw my mother who had died years before. She was young and beautiful. Then I saw my aunt Dele and I said, "Hi aunt Dele....." to which she answered, "don't call me 'aunt' here, just call me Delie."

After a little while I heard a voice I instinctively knew was the Lord. He spoke to me saying, "you have to go back now."

"Oh no," I cried, "please don't send me back."

"You will return here some day," He said, "but for now you have to go back, it isn't your time."

"Only because you say so, Lord, will I go back willingly."

I did not come back in the terrifying way I had left. As soon as I had said those words, I was instantly back in my body, but never again to fear "dying." Instead, I'll always remember the joy I experienced with my brief taste of heaven.

Estelle Maillet
California

Our Baby

pmailletblogs@gmail.com (P Maillet) — Mon, 20 Aug 2007 22:25:00 +0000

I was 41 years old when I got married for the first time. While I did marry a younger woman and became the step father to three girls, I never thought that I would have a child of my own. It was just over a month after my 44th birthday when my wife Renee told me we were having a baby. You can only imagine my surprise and joy on hearing that news, but just a month later everything came crashing down.

It was a Saturday morning and Renee and I were at my oldest step daughter’s cheerleading competition. Renee went to the bathroom and when she came back she told me she was bleeding. I asked her if she had any bleeding in any of her previous pregnancies and she said no.

We immediately went home and Renee called her Doctor’s office. The doctor on call called her back very quickly. He said that 1/3rd of all pregnant women experience some bleeding during pregnancy. Chances are it is nothing to worry about, but if this was the start of a miscarriage, there was nothing that could be done. He told her to rest and call back if the bleeding doesn’t let up or if she passes any tissue. He also told her to come into the office on Monday. The bleeding did let up, and we were hopeful that everything would be normal.

On Monday, I went with Renee to her doctor’s appointment. The doctor did an ultrasound, but wasn’t pleased with the results. He scheduled her for some blood work and set another appointment for Thursday.

That Thursday we returned to the doctor’s office and he did another ultrasound. I make no claim to be a medical expert, so while I may not be precise with some of the details, this is the way it was explained to me.

The doctor told us that on the ultrasound he was searching the uterus for the yolk sack. The yolk sack should be a perfect circle, with a black ring around it. He said all that he could find was a grayish crescent shape. In addition he did not find a heartbeat. He said that he has done over 50,000 ultrasounds, and this was not a viable pregnancy. In addition he feared that this could be a tubular pregnancy which could be dangerous for Renee. He recommended that she get a D&C.

While I don’t know much about a D&C, I do know that is used for a variety of gynecological problems. In addition, as I understand it, abortions are often done using a similar procedure. The doctor said we could go to our hospital to have a more sophisticated ultrasound done, but he was certain the results would be the same. We opted to have that second ultrasound, and they scheduled it for later that morning.

The results from that ultrasound were similar, but there was one difference. Our doctor told us that the radiologist who read that ultrasound agreed that this was not a viable pregnancy. However, there was still a slight heartbeat, but it was clearly in a state of demise and would not last long. It also showed that this was not a tubular pregnancy.

Now if there is a heartbeat, no matter how “slight”, there is still a life and now if we have that D&C done, it is no longer just a gynecological procedure, but it is an abortion. I have been a member of the Knights of Columbus for years. The Knights have campaigned long and hard against abortion. I’ve contributed to several pro-life causes and participated in pro-life rallies. Never did I think that my wife would have an abortion, but now that was exactly the decision we were facing.

After we left the hospital, we went for lunch at a local restaurant and discussed what we should do. We were torn as to what to do, but neither of us wanted to end this new life. When we got home, we called the doctor. He could tell what we were going through. He said that while he was still convinced that this was not a viable pregnancy, we didn’t need to act right away. Since we now knew this was not a tubular pregnancy and Renee was in no danger, he recommended that we go back to his office on Monday and his partner would do another ultrasound. He felt that ultrasound would give us concrete results to better help us make what was the inevitable decision. We agreed that was a good plan and got an appointment for 11AM on Monday.

I have to say that weekend was one of the toughest in our lives. Renee was still experiencing several symptoms of a pregnant woman. While these can be very uncomfortable for a woman having a normal pregnancy, for a woman who knows that the baby inside her is dead or dying, it is mental torture. I can almost always find a way to cheer my wife up when she is sad, but this weekend, there was nothing I could do to make things better.

Monday finally arrived. As the appointment was later in the morning, I went to work and met my wife at the doctor’s office. As I held the office door open for her, she turned back to me and said, “After this…no matter what…we have to do something, because I just can’t take it any more.” I said, “I know. We will.” Because, I knew what she had been going through, and I couldn’t ask her to go through that any more.

It was then that I silently said a small prayer. I said, “Please God, give us a way out of this.” If the ultrasound would just show that there was no heartbeat and no life, we could have that D&C done and get our lives back to normal. At the same time, we could hold the moral high ground, because if there is no life, then the D&C would not be an abortion.

As I said earlier, a different doctor did this ultrasound. He started the ultrasound and it hadn’t been going for 15 seconds, when he turned the monitor towards us. He said that what we were looking at was the uterus and near the top of the screen was the yolk sack. I looked at it and did a double take and looked again. I then looked at my wife and she looked back at me with the same puzzled look. What was confusing us was that the yolk sack that was showing on the screen wasn’t the grayish crescent shape that showed up in the previous ultrasound, but it was a perfect circle with a black ring around it. Exactly the way our first doctor had said it should have looked like.

This doctor could see we were confused by this, and he said, “hasn’t anyone shown you this before?” I said, “No doctor. No one has ever seen this before.” His response was just, “Huh.”

I then asked him what I felt was the big question: “Doctor, is there a heartbeat?” He said, “Look at the yolk sack on the screen. Do you see the white shape in the middle?” “Yes,” I replied. “Do you see how it is flashing’” he asked. Again I replied, “Yes.” “Well,” he said, “that is the heartbeat.

Now I am sitting there totally confused. Finally my wife says, “Okay, wait a minute. Am I pregnant or did I miscarry?” “Well,” the doctor answered. “I don’t want to get your hopes up too high, because you are still a high risk for a miscarriage, but right now I would say your due date is the middle of October.”

The doctor left the examining room and Renee started to get dressed. I’m still not 100% sure what has just happened, and I started questioning her, “This was good, right?” “Yes David,” she answered. “This was very good.” Suddenly there was a knock on the examining room door. I opened the door to see our first doctor standing there. In his hand he was holding the pictures from the ultrasound which the other doctor had just done. His mouth was literally hanging open and he was stammering and stuttering. Finally he said, “Thank God we waited and didn’t get that D&C.” I just smiled and said, “Yes doctor, thank God.”

Our doctor wanted us to go back to the hospital to have them do an ultrasound to either confirm or refute the ultrasound we just had done. We were scheduled for Thursday, one week after the first set of ultrasounds. The way they do ultrasounds at our hospital, a technician conducts the ultrasound and gives the results to a radiologist, who reads and interprets the results. It worked out that we had a different technician doing this ultrasound but it was the same radiologist who read the first one. The first time, the radiologist called our doctor and our doctor went over the results with us. This time the radiologist came out to speak with us.

He said, “In the 30 years that I’ve been reading ultrasounds, I have never seen one as bad as the one I looked at last week that ended up in a good pregnancy.” He stuck out both his arms and pointed his thumbs down and said, “That was just awful!” “But this ultrasound I saw today…” Now he held up both hands, made the ok sign, and said, “Primo!”

We still had several months to go before the pregnancy would be full term. Every time Renee had any pain or spotted any blood, we wondered if this was it. Were we losing our baby? Through it all, Renee started to look more and more pregnant. Then finally, on October 22nd (Renee’s birthday); after 36 hours of sporadic labor; David Arthur Duguay Jr. was born, and he was absolutely perfect!

I often think back to that day we went for the ultrasound and my little prayer for help. I never expected it to be answered the way it was, but after all of this, I am convinced. Miracles do happen and I keep watching my little miracle grow up every day.

David Duguay
Connecticut

A Mother's Surrender

pmailletblogs@gmail.com (P Maillet) — Mon, 20 Aug 2007 22:02:00 +0000

When my son Jonathan was thirteen years old, he was out one day riding his bike with his older brother Mike, and his best friend Simon, they were coming down a hill. They weren't wearing helmets and he hit a rock and flipped over, landing on his skull and cracked it open. I was at work, and got the call from my older son saying, "Mom, uh, Jonathan's in the hospital. He fell off his bike and was taken to the emergency room."

My heart -- I'd never had a phone call like that -- and I just went into a state of panic. I called my sister and blurted out, "Jon's in the emergency room and I'm headed to the hospital, and I don't know what happened ..." and she said, "Let me pray for you right now!"

She prayed over me and this peace came over me. So I'm driving to the hospital in PERFECT PEACE and I said, "Lord, I know Jon belongs to you, and I surrender my son to you. He's in your hands, and I just give him to you. If you want to take him, or if you will heal him, I surrender." And that peace just kept me and I arrived at the hospital, and found him with his head all in bandages and he was in great pain. His brain was swelling, and the situation wasn't good. But God brought him through that. He had to go through surgery to drain the blood, and to this day he has a big horse-shoe shaped scar still there, but God spared him.

But surrendering him and giving him back to God, I was able to do only because of that tremendous peace that had come upon me when my sister prayed, which enabled me to surrender to whatever the Lord decided to do. God spared him, and all I can say is "all glory to God."

Vivi Anderson
California

Just Who WAS That Student?

pmailletblogs@gmail.com (P Maillet) — Mon, 20 Aug 2007 21:47:00 +0000

When I was in college, I was taking an English course. The course was conducted by a professor who was big on facts and figures, and insisted that they be an integral part of what we write.

I was doing poorly in this class because I'm not one who writes that way. I'm not one to do a lot of research, I write from the heart and this just wasn't my writing style. But I had the ability to develop a theme well, and felt it unfair that the professor was giving me poor grades on what I wrote after I had worked so hard at it.

It was the day a paper was due and I was sitting in the coffee house with a bad cold and an anxiety-induced state of depression. It was 9:00 in the morning.

I looked up and saw this very tall person coming my way. He walked up to my table and said to me, "it looks like you really don't want to do what you have to do."

I said to him, "I have a paper due at 11:00, I'm failing the course, I have a terrible cold, and I just don't have a bit of energy in me with which to do this paper, which is the last paper of this course and if I don't get this done and get a good grade on it, I will fail this course.

All I remember is that this person sat down at the table and started dictating. He gave me one paragraph at a time, which I wrote in my own handwriting. I ended up handing it in at 11:00. The paper earned an A, and I passed the course.

I was dumbfounded. People don't just walk up to you and write a term paper for you. And of course, I never saw that person on campus again.

Cindy J
California

Jessica And The Angel

pmailletblogs@gmail.com (P Maillet) — Mon, 20 Aug 2007 21:44:00 +0000

My husband and I were living in a 40 foot Winnebego because we were on the road a lot, traveling around with his job as an instructor for Martin Marietta, a major government contracting firm. At the time of this incident we were living in Louisanna, camped on the shores of a Lake in an RV park. It was a beautiful spot, the fishing was excellent, and as I love to fish it was wonderful.

We had already raised three children at this time and as this was before we adopted a granddaughter, it was just my husband and myself. There was a little girl named Jessica in the camp, and it seems she was frequently left on her own. She was in the custody of her dad, who worked and was a bit of a flake, and he didn't bother to hire anyone to stay with her when he was at work. As he had custody, I can only imagine what her mother may have been like! Jessica had straight, blonde hair and cute freckles. She was a bit on the skinny side and as sweet as can be. She was six. She would visit me almost every day,and on sunny days I would take her to the lake to swim where the water was shallow.

In order to get to the lake and back to the campground we had to cross a small gravel road that cut through the campground. On this particular weekend the campgroud was crowded with people who just came in for the weekend because it was a holiday weekend, I don't remember which holiday, but it's not really important.

We had a nice swim and when we were done, I told her to take my hand just like I always did so she could cross the road safely. The speed limit was five miles per hour, but one can never be too careful with a small child. On this day there were many cars on the road.

For some unknown reason, Jessica broke free from my hand and began to run towards the road. I hollered "Jessica! Stop!" but she paid no heed, so I began to run after her. Suddenly a car was bearing down on the child, and was not obeying the speed limit, but travelling at least 30mph through the campground, which I'd never seen anyone do before. By this time I had reached the side of the gravel road and Jessica was almost half way across, but the car was going to hit her, so somehow I jumped further than I had ever jumped in my life, with my arms outstretched and hit her in the middle of her back with the flat of both of my hands. She flew across the road and fell on the grass. Unfortunately I fell on the gravel road right in front of the car. The driver did hit his breaks and skidded to a stop just inches away from me. Then he backed up, made a "U" turn, and left the park.

There I was, flat on my stomach in the middle of the road, with the wind knocked out of me, and my left knee hurt. Out of all those people, no one had paid any attention or had seen anything, except for one man who was bending over me. He asked me if I was all right. I really didn't know, but I said I thought so, except for the gash in my knee which I later discovered went clear to the bone. I asked him if he had seen the license plate of the car, and he said he had not, because he wasn't there when it happened. That was strange, as it had just happened and he was right there. At any rate, he helped me up, and I hobbled to the side of the road. When I reached the other side of the road and turned around to thank him, he was gone. I asked other people if they had seen this tall, blond man who was wearing brown shorts and a blue tank top and no one remembered seeing anyone like that, which was pretty weird because he was beautiful. Tall, well built, with skin that actually glowed. If that was a tan, it was the best one I ever saw.

My knee was bleeding badly, so I limped to my RV with Jessica, who was fine because she fell on the grass, and cleaned up my knee and temporarily bandaged it to control the bleeding. I ended up getting stitches, and still have a slight scar which always reminds me of Jessica and my Angel, for what else could he have been?

Gayle S
Texas

He Said To Pray Over Our Dog

pmailletblogs@gmail.com (P Maillet) — Sun, 19 Aug 2007 23:28:00 +0000

My children were about three and four years old and we decided to get an old English Sheep dog puppy. We drove out to where the puppy was. But in looking at them, we couldn't decide which puppy to get, and we ended up getting two of them, one male and one female. The male was the runt of the litter, but the female was very active. When the male was about eight months old, we realized there was something not quite right with his walk, he was starting to limp. Then one day, he laid down and would not get up.

It was on a Saturday and I had to travel some distance to get him to a vet who would see him on the weekend. She took x-rays, and come to find out, he had something called "Hip Displasia." We learned that it's not unusual for this kind of dog to get Hip Displasia, but usually they only get it when they're older. The vet explained that this might have been brought on by the other dog who was very active and a bit too rough with him. The dog needed surgery and it was going to be approximately $1,000 a hip. So we're were looking at $2,000 and we didn't have that kind of money then.

So I went home. I went to the Lord and said, "Lord, you know what this is all about and how this dog is too young to have this." I put the dog out in the back yard and kept the other dog away from him. Then it occured to me to pray over the dog. I just laid my hands on him, and prayed over the dog. I said to the Lord, "If you want this dog healed, I know beyond any doubt that you can do it." Then I just stayed there praying over the dog, perhaps five or ten minutes. Then I just sat back with a cool drink, and the next thing I know -- THE DOG GOT UP! Literally GOT UP and started walking!

I knew it was a miracle. We had the x-rays showing this was a true physical defect. And then to see this dog just get up like that, I just knew this was a pet miracle story. I just thanked the Lord that he put it upon my heart to lay hands on the dog and pray, because I never would have thought of doing that myself. The dog lived several more years and was just such a really good dog, a sweet, sweet dog.

Karen Winter
California

The Baseball Bat

pmailletblogs@gmail.com (P Maillet) — Sun, 19 Aug 2007 23:06:00 +0000

My son Isaac was in second grade went to a baseball camp for a week. At this camp, they raffled prizes off every day during that week. Sometimes it was a penant, or trading cards, but the big prize to be raffled off was this Dodger-blue aluminum baseball bat. It was shiny and beautiful, and every kid in the camp wanted this bat.

One day, and this is as plain in my memory as if it were yesterday, we were driving up to the camp, and my son was sitting in the back seat talking excitedly about that bat, but his voice got a bit whiny -saying that there was no way to get that bat, but that he wanted it SO much. So I said to him, "well, I can't buy it for you, and I can't make them give it to you, but you know what - we can pray about it. So I put my hand over the seat and held his hand, and I'm driving with my left hand, and I prayed, "Lord if this bat is supposed to be Isaac's bat, then we know you'll bless and honor that, but if it's supposed to be for someone else, we'll be ok with that." I had to keep my hands on the wheel, so that was a really short prayer.

Isaac really calmed down and I said to him, "The Lord knows who that bat is supposed to be for, but there are a lot of kids who want that bat, so we just don't know whose it will be."

Well, the last day of camp was on Saturday, and they had a big picnic for all the families of the campers. There was the smell of hot dogs and hamburgers on the grill, and we were seated at a picnic table eating, waiting for the raffling which was going to take place atfer the picnic.

The raffling began, and they kept calling out numbers for different things, because there were a lot of things being raffled. After all the penants, and the glove, finally it came down to the blue bat. They called the number and my son looked at his ticket, and ........

The blue bat is in his bedroom to this day.

And as a Mom, that built up my faith, because I had no other way to get that bat for him, and even if it had been for sale, I wouldn't have had the money to buy him one, that particular bat would have sold for more than $50 which, in those days, I simply did not have. But I knew that if it was supposed to be his, the Lord would find a way.

And to this day, whenever a need comes up, I remind him how the Lord provided something for him that he had no other way of having, and he always remembers the baseball bat story to this day, as do all of us in the family.

Karen Winters
California

Nathan Restored To The Family

pmailletblogs@gmail.com (P Maillet) — Sun, 19 Aug 2007 22:43:00 +0000

I had asked for prayer concerning my grandson Nathan, a young man in his thirties. For years Nathan was very unhappy with his parents, believing they let him down in many ways. So he decided to go off by himself and never have anything more to do with any family member.

We had been praying now for four years that God would restore Nathan to the family. His dad even sent plain-clothes detetectives to find out where he was.

But God is faithful! Nathan went into the service and was a military policeman, but when he got out, he decided to go by Oklahoma and visit his dad. Then he visied him mom in Montana. After that, he went to Alaska, where he went to college. He became a firefighter, and then joined the National Guard, and learned to work on diesel engines.

Recently I learned that Nathan is back home with his dad. The prayers have been answered, and Nathan is restored to his family. I give God all the glory.

Francis McGuire
California

He Had Gone Before Me

pmailletblogs@gmail.com (P Maillet) — Sun, 19 Aug 2007 22:41:00 +0000

I was taking my husband's car out of the body shop after a car had rammed into him the week before. I was bringing the car back to him in Vermont, and I was driving on back roads when suddenly I hit a blind spot on black ice and I and the car went flying.

There "just happened to be" no one coming toward me in the other lane. The car sailed across that lane and flipped over and landed upside-down in a snowbank.

Well, there "just happened to be" a tow truck whose driver saw the accident and came over and pulled me out. Had that tow truck not been there at that instant, no one would have seen me. I firmly believe that we are NEVER out of the sight of the Lord, and he will always pre-arrange whatever help we need in time of trouble.

Cindy Jacques
California

Almost Totalled

pmailletblogs@gmail.com (P Maillet) — Sun, 19 Aug 2007 22:39:00 +0000

I was around 22 years old, a brand new Christian, and I was a passenger in a car, on our way to San Francisco. The highway had three lanes and we were in the middle lane.

It was night time, dark, and as we drove along, the person in the car to the left of us decided to get into the middle lane, and we were in that person's "blind spot." The person didn't signal and just began coming into our lane. I saw him look at us and when he realized what he was doing, he jerked the wheel to the left, and when he did that, he went out of control, so he jerked the wheel to the right, and that over-correction caused his vehicle to flip over right in front of us. All this as we were travelling.

The momentum as his vehicle rolled over began to bring him back toward our lane. All of a sudden, it was as though this huge hand worked a miracle of anti-gravity and his car, instead of rolling another time into our lane, it rolled in the opposite direction away from our lane (!!!)

We drove right through the flying glass from his vehicle and we were saved from that near-disaster. We were so shook-up that we made a U-turn and went home.

I didn't see an angel, but it was obvious that God either put one there, or it was his hand that pulled that vehicle out of our way.

Vivi Anderson
California

Heavenly Choir

pmailletblogs@gmail.com (P Maillet) — Sun, 19 Aug 2007 22:36:00 +0000

Several years ago, my brother Dan, was the sound man in the back of the church. It was early in the day and he was preparing for a church program scheduled for that evening. It was a music program and the choir was rehearsing. Being a musician himself, he knows what good music is and when people sound bad he says that hurts his ears.

It was mostly women in the choir, with only a couple men who were drowned out by the many women and Dan was thinking, "boy, they really sound baaad." Later on, when they had the actual performance, the choir sounded so wonderful, and there was the sound of a large men's section, even though there were only two men. The men's section sounded fabulous. After the program, my brother said to the choir director, "boy, the choir sounded so good, what happened?" The choir director said to Dan, "didn't you see the angels in the back row?!!!?" Stunned, my brother said, "I didn't see them, but I sure heard them!" But others actually saw them, and the music truly sounded heavenly.

Lucy Wilborn
California

Our Cat Was Half Dead

pmailletblogs@gmail.com (P Maillet) — Sun, 19 Aug 2007 22:27:00 +0000

We have a cat named Tiger who would go outside at night and not come back in. Well she was attacked by a racoon one night and what a nightare. It cost us over $1,000 to have her wounds drained and attended to. We hadn't found her for three days, and when we did find her, she was half dead and gangrene had set in and the vet had to carve all the gangrenous flesh off. So she ended up having a lot of flesh missing there on her back end. The vet said she would never again be able to jump and she would never be able to lift her tail higher than her back.

But she continued to stay out all night, and a few months later, she was attacked a second time. It looked like a racoon had got her and dragged her. Exasperated, I said to my husband Mike, "we're not paying another dime on this cat!!!" But we prayed over her, and God healed her.

Awhile later, we noticed that she was listless and wouldn't eat. Our son Joseph found a large growth in her stomach area. It was a large lump which got bigger and bigger. Again, I said "we're just not spending any more money on this cat!" We were about to go on vacation, and we just prayed over that cat, and our son Joseph prayed over the cat, and then we left on vacation.

When we called home, we heard that the cat was "better," but when we got home, that cat was healed!

She can lift her tail and you can no longer tell there was any injury there. The Lord has healed this cat TWICE! And I realized that God heals not only his people, but their pets too. It's several years later now and Tiger is still with us, alive and well.

Vivi A
California

Curvature In His Spine

pmailletblogs@gmail.com (P Maillet) — Sun, 19 Aug 2007 21:58:00 +0000

When my husband and I were first married, he was always complaining about pain in his back. When lying down, he'd curl up to relieve pressure from his back. One night I was giving him a back rub, and as I was massaging his back I felt the curvature that was there. His spine came down straight to that point, then it curved in, then was straight below it. I was stunned. So I just prayed. It wasn't an elaborate prayer, I just prayed, "God, I ask you to heal Mike's back, in the Name of Jesus."

All of a sudden, Mike says, "Are you putting a lot of pressure on my back?"

And I said, "No, why?"

He said, "well it feels very hot, and a lot of pressure there."

I put my hand back onto his spine and it was HOT. There was such heat there! And God healed him instantly that night. God healed him from that curvature in the spine, and he has never had pain there again. And we both give all glory to God who healed him instantly that night.

Later, when our son Jonathan was about six months old, I was home sick one day with the flu. At the time, my mother-in-law lived with us, so she was watching the baby, and he got sick also. I was sick in bed and heard my son crying and crying, so as sick as I was, I got up and found him throwing up and throwing up. So I said, "oh God, have mercy on us and touch my baby." And Jonathan instantly stopped throwing up, healed in a moment. And I, still sick, went back to bed.

Vivi Anderson
California