Tag Archive | Little Girl

A Father’s Love


Detail from Albrecht Dürer

Image via Wikipedia

Do you remember the sense you got when you were in the presence of your father?

Was it a sense of abandonment?

Was it a sense of anger?

Was it a sense of bitterness?

Was it a sense of regret?

Was it a sense of disconnection?

OR was it a sense of something even worse, a sense of lust and usury,

and the sense that you were prey to be preyed upon?

Did you sense that you were collateral damage to fill the evil desires of someone else?

2 Peter 3:3 (NIV1984) First of all, you must understand that in the last days scoffers will come, scoffing and following their own evil desires.


If this is the sense you had growing up,

I want to express my profound sadness for the life of that child.


I also want to express my equally profound belief that the anger, the bitterness, the regret, the disconnection and the overwhelming sense of being a victim can be overcome.


But how you ask?

Here is what I believe due to the work I have done on my insides.

All of the above, the sense of abandonment, anger, bitterness, regret and of being prey to those much stronger than I, has always tried to triumph.


But I “did the work” so to speak, and continue to do so.

I call it an “Inside job”.


In the natural world, all of these barriers can be strongly affected by therapy of many different types.

Each of us is made very differently.  Different approaches will have different outcomes.

In the best case scenarios, the fix may be hard to maintain because of difficulty we still carry within the memories. We are still connected in our minds.


In my own case I found that new things could not be done in old ways.

I needed a new tactic.  I needed a new thing.

I embarked on a new process, a less natural, more spiritual process.


It was not a fast process by any means, but it was effective.  I could hear my Grandmothers voice telling me that “slow and steady wins the race”.


My first action in the “new process” was very purposeful.

           I picked up my Bible and began to read.


Isaiah 43:19 (NIV1984) See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland.


You mean my life does not have to be as it is? 

I do not have to settle?


2 Corinthians 5:17 (NIV1984) Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come!


But I don’t feel like a new creation!

How can this be?   Is this normal?


What I did not yet know was that when we give our hearts to Jesus and ask Him for His help, He saves our spirits, to live with him forever, but we still have our same flesh until the day we leave this earth.  We still must overcome the old thinking and habits we have had since birth.


Psalm 51:10 (NIV1984) create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me.


We must be purposeful, intentional, and active.  For that pure heart and renewed spirit, 

we must choose to seek Him.


Genesis 50:20 (NIV1984) you intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives.


You mean all this baggage I’ve been saddled with for so long can actually be good for someone else?


Isaiah 61:3 (NIV1984) and provide for those who grieve in Zion— to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the LORD for the display of his splendor.


I, of course was the one “grieving in Zion”.


I began to learn about just how beautiful I was to God, and that His heart was to show me the TRUE love of a TRUE father.

He wanted to be my “Abba”.         My “Daddy”.


Romans 8:15(NIV1984) for you did not receive a spirit that makes you a slave again to fear, but you received the Spirit of sonship. And by him we cry, “Abba, Father.”


I began to see that He has always wanted to lavish His love on me.


1 John 3:1 (NIV1984) how great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are! The reason the world does not know us is that it did not know him.


His heart was not to harm me.  Harm came to me, but not by His choice.  It was the choice of humans.  The days are evil, (Ephesians 5:16B) and man makes choices that go far out of the realm where God would have us to live.


He, God, my heavenly Father, my Abba, did however protect my life.  He gave me an open opportunity to choose Him.


This is when I learned that I could fulfill His purpose for me, by helping others, who may not have ever heard that there is a way out.


Jude 1:23 (NIV1984) snatch others from the fire and save them; to others show mercy, mixed with fear—hating even the clothing stained by corrupted flesh.


Is this a picture of you? 


Are you “grieving in Zion”?



Would you consider a new thing?

Would you pick up a Bible and read?

Would you take the step?

Would you “Do the work”?

Would you embark on the “Inside job”?

Would you ask for help if you need it?


If you answered yes to any of these questions,

Feel free to contact me here,

Or for more privacy, you can message me

At Significant Encounters on Facebook.


For further research on “Abba” ->     http://www.orthodoxresearchinstitute.org/articles/bible/tarazi_name_of_god.htm



I’ve always had a fascination with houses. 

Big or small. 

Old or new. 

City or country.

Exquisite or plain.

It does not matter.

I am enthralled with them all.

What one might find odd about this fascination is that it always begins on the outside. 

In the dark.

Walking in the dark, I would see the light from people’s windows falling out on to their yards.

I would see some of what adorned the walls inside their homes.

As a child passenger in the car at night I had little to do but watch out the window. 

The houses we passed by were lit from the inside too.

This light showing from those homes speeding by made it possible for my wandering, creative, dreaming, little girl mind to make up my own little stories about how others lived.

The inhabitants inside would never know the dreams of this child.

I often wondered what they would think if they did.

Funny, how they did not even know I was there.

I never wanted to see anything I shouldn’t see, private moments and the like;

So it was not anything creepy, I just enjoyed the small glimpses I got of someone else’s life.

I was an adult before I would find what the attraction was.

It all began when I first encountered an artist named Thomas Kinkade.  



I sensed something in his pictures that attracted me just like the homes that had attracted my little girl attentions for all these years.

His paintings awoke something in me that was waiting to be explored and understood.

I began to consider this attraction I had, from the first time I had a sense of it.

Since I was small, and no one knew I was dreaming these dreams, since no one knew that

I was making up these stories, I could continue to do it, and be safe.

I was safe from punishment, since I was much in trouble for daydreaming.

I was safe from ridicule, since my every move made someone verbally assault me.  http://wp.me/p1Deai-1h

I was safe from the people that harmed me in my real life.                                            http://wp.me/p1Deai-3E  

I could imagine a life where there was no pain.                                                                http://wp.me/p1Deai-1U                     

I could dream of a life where people loved and protected those in their care.          http://wp.me/p1Deai-1W

In this life of make believe, in this life of story, I was safe, even though my real life was dark.

As a teen ager, I fell into the abyss of believing everything every one said about me, so I became a self fulfilling prophecy.

Only on a very few occasions was I able to escape back to the world of making story from someone else’s light.

As an adult, I married and became a mom. 

I had little time for such foolishness, until …………………

The children were old enough to take on long walks in the city where we lived.

Those long walks with our little family, seemed to re-kindle the flame for seeing light and making up story.

So now, enter Thomas Kinkade.

What did I see in his paintings? 

Why was I drawn to them? 

What was their affect on me?

Then I read somewhere that Thomas Kinkade was known as “The Painter of Light”.

Somewhere, from the beginning of my childhood, I had sensed a kind of darkness. 

It was all around me.  It seemed to cling to me like a garment.

I have learned much about this garment, but that tale is for another time.

What is for this time is this;

In Thomas Kinkade’s paintings, there was always light.

The light was always bright, but the light was also always soft.

Darkness could be all around, but in the softness of that light, there was comfort and safety.

When my eyes beheld the light from these windows in the night,

and I made up my stories about them, there was always safety in the story.

It may have been absent in my life, but I somehow knew, that comfort and safety were somewhere.

When my eyes beheld the light from Thomas Kinkade’s paintings,

there was always safety.  There together, abiding with comfort.

Where did the light come from in both of these scenarios? 

The light came from within.                    Inside.

Matthew 5:16  In the same way, let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven.

Revelation 18:1b He had great authority, and the earth was illuminated by his splendor.

Colossians 1:27  To them God has chosen to make known among the Gentiles the glorious riches of this mystery, which is Christ in you, the hope of glory.

We must choose to let God’s light shine out from us.

The light that He deposits within us, can light the way for another!

Would you choose to let Him illuminate your insides today?

In the home I share with my husband and one really big dog, you will find a soft light in every room. 

It is a bright light.                                                                                                                                

It is a soft light.

It is a strong light.                                                                      

It is bright enough to light the way.

It is soft enough to bring comfort.

It is strong enough to chase the darkness away.

As you drive by, except for Christmas time when there is a tree there,

In the front window you will see a lighthouse.

Always lit.  

A spot of comfort in the darkness.

A beacon of safety in the night.

Beckoning little girl and boy dreamers to keep dreaming.

Inviting Significant Encounters of the Jesus kind to passers by.

So they can shine light in the darkness as well!

Isaiah 9:2  The people walking in darkness  have seen a great light;

on those living in the land of the shadow of death a light has dawned







Drama Queen

Have you ever thought of yourself as a “Drama Queen”?

Or has someone else called you that?

I don’t need a show of hands, so come on, tell yourself the truth.

Being a DQ is kind of cute.

When you’re five.


After that, it’s not too cute at all.

Have you ever just responded in tears to something, so totally over the top that you embarrassed yourself?

Worse yet, have you realized later that you didn’t even realize you were over the top?

How mortifying is that?

I’ve had seasons in my life where I could cry at stop signs.

During these times, there was great release for my heart.

A time where God did something in my heart, a touch of healing you might say.

I’ve also had seasons though, where tears would not come.

The wells seemed to be dried up.

Unfortunately, these times were more abundant in my life than the stop sign times.

The DQ was nowhere to be found.

The problem is that my heart was dried up too.

After long periods of dryness, I would erupt at the slightest provocation,

or no provocation at all.

The DQ would be back, but she took on a different form,

not so much with tears, as with anger and rage and bitterness.

This recalcitrant little girl stomps her feet and screams.

This little girl will not be denied her place on the stage.

There’s a problem though. This little girl isn’t five.

She is big enough now, that others better not get in her way.

Now, she should be mortified.

I had always seen my tears as a weakness.

God showed me recently that tears were actually a gift.

The hot, angry, mad tears, were actually a cleanser for my ravaged soul.

When those tears are allowed to flow, healing could begin.

No DQ required.

The ugly cry.

Just straight up, truthful, exhausting, healing, cleansing tears.

After that, I learned I was able to cry a quieter cry.

Tears of humility and repentance.

He is our God, and He is big enough to handle them.

In His hands they are truly a treasure.

Here’s the truth that God showed me on a particularly weepy day;

He will not waste our tears. He saves them in a bottle.

Why would He bother saving them, if they were useless?

Psalm 56:8 AMP ~ 8You number and record my wanderings; put my tears into Your bottle–are they not in Your book?

Psalm 56:8 TLB ~ 8You have seen me tossing and turning through the night. You have collected all my tears and preserved them in your bottle! You have recorded every one in your book.

Psalm 56:8 GNT ~ 8You know how troubled I am; you have kept a record of my tears. Aren’t they listed in your book?

No matter how you say it. We all have those times, those times when we cannot stop the tears from flowing and those times when tears just won’t come.

Don’t be afraid to cry.

God has a purpose for those tears.

He will one day show us what they were all for.

He does not save worthless things.