My Grace Is Sufficient For you

I was born in Fowler, California, a few miles from Fresno the town I was to live in the rest of my life. Earlier this year I turned 46. I believe I was really saved when I was 27 years old. I was baptized on December 27, 1992. This was my true baptism, and I was born again. The first time I was baptized, I was an infant in the Roman Catholic church in 1965.

I was 20, when I realized that being a Catholic did not connect me to The Person of Jesus Christ. The years leading up to 1985, I felt myself pursued by Him.

My parents were divorced when I was 17 years old. I took it extremely hard. I blamed myself for their divorce. My soul was in mourning, and I began to cut myself to get rid of the pain that was consuming me.

I was the second oldest child of five children. It was funny, I don’t mean funny, in that way, but peculiar, since I was the only child to have been affected so profoundly.

For years, I had been scarred from the mental images of my father beating my mother. It was this abuse of my mother that fragmented me. When you grow up like that you believe it is normal. I was the abnormal one for not being able to digest it all. (This environment created the borderline personality disorder I was to be diagnosed with when I was 23 years of age.)
Jesus came to me when I was 14. Our parents send us to catechism. We didn’t study the bible there, but we learned church doctrines mostly. My thoughts toward The Lord were: “If a man saved your loved one, you would be grateful, if he saved your children, and your children’s children you would be more than grateful you’d fall down, then, why don’t they worship The Lord Our God.” I had that written somewhere. Our catechism teacher wanted us to write what we thought about Jesus. I wrote that i wanted to be obedient to Him. I didn’t want to hurt Him. I wrote a page, she liked my paper so much she read it to the class

Jesus Christ came to me for the second time when I was 16 and living in a Rescue Shelter for battered women, with my mom and two brothers and two sisters. There was a man there who preached named Walt. He preached using puppets, and it fascinated me. I listened intently when he preached about being born again, and not being a slave to the Ten Commandments. After he would preach, everyone who was staying there would go back to their rooms. I always stayed to help him put the puppets away. But i really stayed behind to ask him questions, about what"Being Born again", really meant." When my parents reconciled, and we had to leave it was devastating to me in a way.

Jesus was persistent, and before my twentieth birthday, I had been weeping during mass, several Sundays in a row. After receiving communion I would sit down on the pew and literally sob. My mother would tell me, “to stop embarrasing myself, don’t cry”. But I couldn’t stop.

It was strange that going to mass had made me weep. This mysterious occurence i now know to be The Holy Spirit. But at the time, I thought I was going crazy.

When i sat alone at the college, these were the things I would think about. Instead of trying to get to know the other students, instead of trying to find a boyfriend, that is what i thought about. Things I knew not to be normal. I knew I was a misfit in my heart. There was such a grief inside of me, a guilt so profound i thought my heart would explode and shatter into a million pieces. I know now that It was The Holy Spirit telling me i was really dead in my sins.

Jesus came to me again when I was 20, and sitting on campus at Fresno City College. I was a very depressed and lonely young woman. I had been cutting myself 3 years already. I was failing my poetry class, and I began to skip my psychology class.

I felt like a failure, after having been discharged from the Army. After graduation in 1983 I had wanted to get away from my parents and make my life in the US Army. But the drill sergeants, company commander, and brigade commander had different ideas. But it was The Lord who wanted me out of the Army. When I used to practice running around the track, "i used to pray, “Lord, make me like a rock, Lord make my face like flint.”

I graduated from Basic Training in 1983. But, I could not finish my AIT school. I flunked the PT (physical training) test, and would have to be re-cycled. I couldn’t do the push-ups, nor could I run very well. That is when I went AWOL. After I had failed the PT test I knew i was a big fat loser, however waiting for the others to finish their test, was not in me. “Lord, you knew it was not in me.” In running away, I scratched my legs low crawling under a patch of thorny plants. When I tried to climb over the razor fence, the sergeant grabbed me by the tee-shirt, and the paramedic put a strait jacket on me. The ambulance drove me to 7 west, the psychiatric ward.

In those days there was only the hope of death. So I drew hundreds of paper dolls and created identities for them, and lived through them.

For years The Lord saw my act, the pretense of attempting to hold a life that was disintegrating. No one knew I was cutting myself with razors, except Jesus.

Day after miserable day, I sat alone, praying I had the guts to commit suicide. I used to look down from the second story in the social science building, imagining myself flying down. It gave me hope to think such things. But my Catholic upbringing, forbade it. I knew I would go to hell if I ever attempted such a thing.

At 20, I felt ancient, like an old, old soul talking to myself, as if I were taking notes to God Himself. My parents were into their new lives as divorced people in their 40’s. My mom was going to have a baby from her second husband.

I sat on the concrete benches at the school. Not certain if I could survive the rest of the year. I wrote in my journal, as I used to keep a journal in those days.
“LORD, SMILE DOWN UPON me, APPROVE OF WHAT i Do.” I had written.
I just felt compelled to write to God.

Nothing happened differently that day. During which time my pushy cousin was trying to convince me into becoming a Jehovah’s Witness. She gave me a bible. (The whole religion grated me, and she never convinced me.)

A few months later, I found that same bible. For some reason, only apparent to The Lord Jesus, i picked up that bible, and could not put it down. I read and read and read and read for hours on end, missing television shows. This concerned my mother who told me to put the bible down, and come and watch television with her. But, I couldn’t, The Word of God had such a hold on me that year, that I read the whole bible in a month.

I was convinced I had to talk to the priest. Nothing was as they had said it was. The world was topsy turvy. So, I was convinced that I must speak to the priest and he would explain it all.

When I got to the church, our priest could not explain anything to my satisfaction. It was a huge disappointement because I really liked Alberto our priest. I asked him, "Why the church made us confess our sins to him, when the bible taught that Only Jesus Christ is the Mediator between God and man, he could not explain it. I went on and on with the questions. Alberto could explain nothing I asked him. Instead he told me to stop listening to people from other religions. He said they were only confusing me. I informed him I wasn’t talking to anyone. I had been reading the bible. He then told me, to stop reading it. I said, “I could not.” “Furthermore, I told him, with a saddened heart, I couldn’t be a Catholic anymore.”

So i left. But it would not be my last encounter with The Lord. i went off and sinned. I didn’t quite understand why God didn’t save me then. But when i left God, at 20 i suffered an agony i cannot describe the next seven years until my baptism.

The next seven years I would suffer bouts of intense depression. I was in a pit so deep I thought I would die in that hole. I was in a universe devoid of stars, or planets. I was in an ocean devoid of any life, just sinking in a blackness, shivering. The severity of this emptiness was strangling the miserable life out of me. In those days, I pretended to be happy, but inside i was dying, and I turned to cutting to bring myself back to life. I cut myself because I was a miserable failure, and i deserved the pain I was inflicting upon myself.

At this time, I was taking care of my mother’s child, my baby sister Mia who was born in 1985. My mom was going out, and had no idea what I was doing. But I loved my little sister so much, and this helped me to hang on to the life I didn’t want.

In those days, I begged God to take my life everyday. In my heart I had devised how I would do it. When you are 21, and you feel no comfort from the people you are with, suicide, and death seem like the real deliverer.

Even after The Revelation of Christ. I had no place to go. I began listening to John MacCarthur and Chuck Swindoll.

The next few years proved difficult ones. Taking care of my little sister Mia made me the happiest. Over the years, I would take her to school, and pick her up, I became a sort of surrogate mother to her.

I worked my college schedule around my little sister. Over the next few years I continued cutting myself, on my arms especially, cutting my wrists several times.

When you have an encounter with The Holy Spirit, you miss Him when He is not there. I didn’t feel His promptings. I sunk into a despair, i tried to hide. My writings begin to descend into a type of madness. The enemy lied and I could discern that I was being kept under guard by principalities.

As the years progressed, and two failed love affairs with my college professors had me shredding and ripping at myself until the blood of my own self-loathing was oozing on the tile of the bathroom floor.

My soul was deteriorating into the existentialist philosophy I was studying. The cuttings and scratching continued behind closed doors. I feigned some kind of happiness. But the anger, which verged on rage, held me hostage.

At night I began to suffer from what seemed like hallucinations. I was sober, never given to alcoholic beverages, but my flesh began to be impinged, even assaulted by what was not there. Immediately, i knew they were demons.

There were times during the assaults which were always horrific, they or it would try to go into my head, as if to possess me.

But the cutting was getting more severe, and there was a time i began to store my blood in viles. (Which i recognized then to be wicked.) My writing was so dark, i felt all but abandoned by Jesus. Although, he was the One i cried out to during these violent attacks. It was always, JESUS!, through my distorted voice, i couldn’t even recognize as my own anymore. Immediately the evil presences were gone.

When i was 26, the scars and cuttings were well-hidden under the clothes of a college student and big sister still. I met a man I was not to marry. But he brought The Word back into my life, giving me a bible.

This Christian man left me, after promising to marry me. My wounded heart was going to receive an unexpected gift. I studied that bible all over again. I began to attend a church, and was baptized for the second time at the age of 27.

I was cleansed, and i knew this time i would never let go of My Love Jesus Christ. New in my faith, i let myself become involved with the man who would become Emma’s biological father.

The relationship ended when i became pregnant, of course. He left me in my 5th month of pregnancy. During this time The Lord gave me Romans 8, and i swallowed it greedily, I was so hungry. I memorized the chapter. I feed daily on His Word, and read to Emma when she was in my womb. I wept, with my bulging belly to the floor, every night, praying that God would bring Emma’s father back to us. But always my Father kept me close, protected, and there were no more demonic attacks. Jesus filled my heart so completely at times, that it didn’t matter that her father was gone.

A friend in the church, bought me a pink leather New King James Bible with my name engraved in gold. i wept, so touched, by the gift, as my other bible was already worn out.
She also told me, “THAT GOD IS A FATHER TO THE FATHERLESS.” This greatly comforted me that God would be the Father to my child, and whenever i would pray i always refer to Emma as our child. This bound me in such an intimate way to God, that binds me still.

I stopped cutting myself and drinking the diet pepsis i had grown so fond of over the years, drinking nothing but chocolate milk and countrytime lemon-aid. I could feel His Presence even if others thought i was sinful. There were the condemning stares as my belly grew. The judgmental comments about my being pregnant out of wedlock. But I knew My Father had completely forgiven me, and yet blessed me with the only child i was ever to have.

It was difficult for me to stay in this church after Emma was born. I still attended, but the Pastor never confronted Emma’s biological father, Gary about his sin. This deeply hurt me, and i felt betrayed. But the Lord told me He was betrayed as well.

Over the next several years, I memorized more chapters of the bible which i was to need later. I added more radio ministers to my mornings, Charles Stanley, and Adrian Rogers to name a few. God was giving me so much of His Word, i studied two hours of sermons every day.

But, Emma was not well. There was a reason, God was sharpening my Sword. She was having ear aches, until her ear drum burst. But this was not the illness that would change her. Later, I began to smell feces in my bedroom. She had been smearing her waste all over her toys, and inside the Rug Rat camping tent I bought her.

She developed encopresis, and regressed. She regressed and began to defecate in her underwear, and i had to buy diapers for her again. My hands stinched, and the condition of the bathroom, with her underwear, hanging on the shower rod, angered my mother and little sister Mia.

It was a burden to live with my mother and little sister, especially since my mother was not a believer in those days. She hounded me relentlessly, and on top of Emma’s illness, I still had to take Mia to school and pick her up on the bus, even walking as I didn’t have a car.

There were days she threatened to kick me out, whenever I scolded Mia while she was at work. i used to retreat to my room and weep, praying and crying out to The Lord.
I tried not to cut myself, especially since I had a child now, and she was sick.

This still was not the illness. She was referred to a gastroenterologist.

I began working, again. I started to leave Emma at the day-care. But everyone there knew she was not well. She would fight with the care-takers. Her mood swings were like a pendulum. Taking her on the bus, she proved impossible, as she would run away when the bus would pull up. Keeping her on the bus was even more challenging as she would scream the entire way.

At night she would scream for hours, enraged, tearing up her room. I cried out to my Lord, my prayers were filled with tears, and i continued hearing the ministers, it comforted me to hear the teaching of The Word.

During the day, when Mia was in school I would walk to the 7-11 to get my diet pepsis, with Emma in the stroller, and my pink bible on top of the canopy, with head phones over my ears, listening to John MacCarthur or Charles Stanley or Adrian Rogers. I loved them, as this was a life line to me. The Holy Spirit was using these ministers to train me up in His Word. It was such a blessing to me in those days.

Then it happened, i lost my pink New King James Bible i used to take with me everywhere. I thought i would die, it was the Bible all marked up, i knew where the specific passages were. Then, i heard, that His Word was not lost to me, only that particular bible.

When Emma was almost 5 years old, I met someone on my visit to my sister who lived in Canyon Country at the time. My brother-in-law was a hang glider, and he introduced me to a friend of his named, well, the name is not important.

I began to feel in my soul, disconcertment and a bitterness over still being alone. I was 33 by this time. This part causes me great shame, as I continued an affair with him.

I began the affair out of anger towards God. All of my sisters were married except my little sister Mia, who was only 13 at the time.

There was such an intense grief inside me when I sinned. Grieving The Holy Spirit is such a painful experience.

We didn’t stay together long, as I was always preaching to him, trying to turn him into some kind of Moses.

Emma was still sick from her encopresis. That didn’t set well with him either.

I remember the last time we were together, I started an argument to end the relationship. When he ended it, I was relieved. But still I tried to cling to him, to his neck, until he threw me out of his pick-up truck, and I skinned my knees as he threw me hard onto the pavement. But I wouldn’t let him go, having been intimate with him, as he drove away, I jumped desperately into the back of his truck.

This wasn’t the first time this happened. When I was 16, my father pulled away from the drive-way of our house, I jumped into the back of his blue pick-up truck, in a desperate attempt to keep him. I knew he was leaving us, to see his mistress. Tears of rejection, muddied my cheeks. I wasn’t going to let my father go, so easily, I had sacrificed so much for his love. It humiliated me to have to chase him down just to love me.

Years later, those same muddied cheeks stained me. I would repeat the same humiliating behaviour to keep a man that didn’t want me. I found myself shivering in the back of his truck in a dress. He purposely sped through the freeway, so I would bounce in his truck in the middle of the night.

I knew I didn’t want this. My skinned knees, bleeding, and the rain began to pour down, and I banged on the window on the back of his truck, motioning him to take me back to my sister’s house.

Like the prodigal child i would return to God. The Lord wasn’t cruel, He was gracious, and when i begged His Forgiveness weeping He forgave me in the most loving way.

I began working at Bank of America. The training there was difficult, since I had to leave Emma at day-care, walking and then take two buses. I was so inept when it came to handling money.

Emma was not getting any better. She would cuss, and still crying in the middle of the night. Still Jesus held onto us so tight.

My new church, The Nazarene church provided fellowship for awhile. I made two good friends there, went to bible studies, and wanted to stay.

But they believed that I could lose my Salvation, and THE HOLY SPIRIT told me that would never happen. God told me, He would chastise me severely if necessary, but He would finish the work He had started in me.

I found his to be a place of cliques. When Pastor Shelton had the altar calls, I used to pray that God would make me in union with Him. It was the cry of a desperate heart still hurting over not being loved by a man. I wanted Jesus, but evidently I still wanted to get married.

The Pastor and Emma did not get along. They had screaming matches in the lobby. Emma was 5, and the Pastor was screaming at a sick child.

Still, i didn’t know , what the illness she was exhibiting so many symptoms already was to be.

I loved God so much, and I tried to tell the bible teachers that God wouldn’t save us just to lose us. My feeling about it was, “you being evil would never abandon your children, how could you think you are more righteous than God?” “You’re wrong, and you don’t know how wrong.”

Well, you just know I had to leave. But not before, I was to begin a most stupid affair, with a much older college professor. I was working in the bank a few times a week, and studying History at Fresno State University.

I knew I hadn’t healed from my parent’s divorce. Emma hadn’t healed. It seemed i was always trying to run out of God’s Will. I was stubborn, angry, and yes, I would not let God deliver me fully from the cutting. There were a few scabs on me. I needed the scabs as a sign that I was healing. When the only sign i needed was Jonah in the Belly of the whale. The cuts were not going to do anything for me. And yes, the cuts hurt, as cuts do.

I tried to pray. But the anger was more insistent this time it almost seemed. God wanted the bitterness gone.

To make matters worse I began to blackmail this man. He paid me thousands of dollars to keep my mouth shut. He said it was out of love, and I told myself I received it out of love, but we both knew what it was. I stopped because God told me it was “blackmail”, and no extortioner would inherit the Kingdom of God. If that is what i truly was. The Lord told me, " i was no blackmailer." I wept bitterly. This is why I turned him in, so he would really hate me.

The pain had grown too much for me. He would mess around with me in his office then kick me out of his office through the back door so he could work. I was humiliated again, and I could feel The Lord say, “I didn’t create you for this.”
i reported him to the ethics committee on campus for investigation.
I told the Dean of the Social Studies Department, and she believed me. I was going to finally turn one of those professors who used me in. It devastated me to have to do it because I loved him. But he was married, and i knew this was not God’s Will.

I even got so bold as to meet with his Mennonite minister, and expose him. We met at McDonald’s one morning, and i shared the letters that charged a member of his church with sexual harassment. He was shocked. I was shocked with my actions, as I felt the Lord told me to expose him. I thought of the scripture in Matthew 18:18, “If he refuses to hear tell it to the church.” In this case his minister. This professor resigned from his position in the church.

Emma started kindergarten the next year. She got a therapist through the school. She wasn’t getting any better, she was getting worse. My mom thought she was just spoiled, as I bought her things, and always took her to the movies. But I knew it wasn’t just that.

When I would take her to the appointments with the gastroenterologist,
Emma would scream at me when her name was called out. When we were in the room waiting to be seen, she would say strange things to me, “If you let me bite you , I will feel better.” So, she would bite me on the hand, until she broke the skin.

By the time Emma was 7, my mom had to “kick” us both out of her apartment. That is when I broke the bedroom window with the belt buckle. Emma was in one of her tirades, screaming and cussing at me, that I threw the belt out of anger, hitting and breaking the window.

We went to live with my father in Salinas, to get treatment for Emma, as the doctors in Fresno would not help us or prescribe her any kind of medication.
Salinas was much more liberal, when I took her to the psychiatrist, the pyschiatrist purposely angered her, and said Emma was mentally ill. She prescribed her Neurontin and then Ritalin, than Risperidol.

By this time I had been working on a book about an SS Colonel working in Occupied Paris. It was a terrible book, in the sense that the lead character murdered people in the Resistance, especially women. I was still so angry and bitter and began to create these characters to put my feelings into. Writing this book made me feel powerful after the humiliation I had suffered at the hands of Peter, and the rest of the men who had used me, then dumped me. A root of deep bitterness needed to be plucked out of me, it had been growing since I was a child watching my father beating and verbally abusing my mother. It was there as I was expected to lie to my mother for him, in order to keep our family together.
“If you tell your mother I am on the phone, she will leave me, and break the family up.” My mother was equally as insistent, “Tell me if your father is on the phone, and don’t lie to me.” This insoluble problem tormented me as a child.
I hated men, and The Lord had to crucify this person. I created all kinds of characters and worked on my father’s computer, while he was at work.

Emma was enrolled in the 1st grade, but the school told me, she could only go half of the day. This was to be customary for Emma.

We didn’t have a car, as my father was working most of the day. It seemed my life was taking care of this sick child.

The book began to take it’s toll on me. It was destroying me inside, and I began to feel madness, as I became obsessed with writing it. It was my plan to use my pain to write a best selling novel. There was another character in the book named Emile who was a Catholic, but a homosexual. I wanted to drive the point home that God condemned homosexuality, but desired to change the heart of the sinner. Because He loves us He desires to make us Holy

Anyway, when the summer was up, we returned to Fresno. Still Emma didn’t have a diagnosis just medication and a therapist.

The twin towers collapsing changed my attitude towards things inside my heart. It was then, that i knew that i needed The Lord Jesus. I repented of writing the book i knew deep down, God hated. Our nation, The United States was in trouble, and I knew if I was truly to be an intercessory prayer there was “junk” namely my novel I had to get rid of. So, I prayed fervently, and realized God wanted me to throw my 700 page novel into the trash. By that time i was sending out inquiries to find a publisher. But it was decided, The Lord told me to throw 3 years of work into the dumpster. It was funny because I thought I was going to be on Oprah Winfrey.

I began working in the IRS in 2002. Keeping a job wasn’t going well. I tried to work at the bank, but i couldn’t keep the job, as the day-care was always calling with problems that Emma was doing something wrong. Jumping the fence at school, or cussing some other child out.

As I began working, Emma fell ill. She was having high fevers, and I was always having to leave work. It proved difficult as I didn’t own a car, and had to take a taxi to get there quickly. Taxis are not cheap.

i was reading my Bible again. But i didn’t understand why i couldn’t keep a job, why my child was always sick, and why i couldn’t meet anyone.

Then it happened, I had to rush Emma to the pediatrician, Dr. Singh. He told me it was her appendix. I couldn’t believe it, yet another complication. He sent us in a taxi to the Valley Children’s Hospital. The whole taxi ride Emma begin to cuss at the taxi driver. I silently prayed to God to make the ride go more quickly
When we arrived, she couldn’t walk, and she was wheeled into the emergency.
The doctor there said Emma needed another enema. Of which she was taking enemas because of her problem. I said, “No, her pediatrician said she has appendicitis.”

To which he yelled, "Are you going to tell me my business, give her the “****” enema, or not." “But I will not give her a sonogram .”

The next morning, she was in excruciating pain. I missed work again, and the doctors confirmed it, she had appendicitis. They left her in the room so long that her appendix burst. In the evening, she was wheeled into surgery.

She was admitted for a week, to have i.v’s put into her to clean out her system.
I lost my job.

I knew I was being selfish, because i met a lady whose 12 year old daughter had throat cancer. This was her daughter’s 9th operation, and she was terminal. I wept.

Emma fared badly in the hospital, pulling out her i.v’s, cussing me out to the point she would leave me in tears. She was only 7. At times it seemed like she was, well I won’t write it, but I think you know.

The stress got to be so much. I should have let The Lord comfort me, but I didn’t. And I ripped into my flesh. The nurses found out, and had me put on a 51/50 for a scratch on my arm.

This was one of the worst times of my life. I was in the PACT unit, my child was in the hospital with i.v’s. They had to call my parents to go and stay with her.

I cried out earnestly to Jesus, and i remember He gave me a peace that surpassed all understanding.

I was calm the next morning and was released.

After she was released from the hospital, was the first time I met with a panel of doctors, her therapist, and social workers who thought I was an unfit mother, and wanted to take Emma away from me. This was to be the first in a series of battles.

i only cried out to God, “Why was this happening to me?” i prayed for God to be with me, and to be strong in me.

Most of the panel was unfavorable to me, except one person. It was a scrutinizing hour hearing people say that I was unfit, and not good for Emma. I had been taking Emma to the gastroenterologist and therapy for years. The panel threw an appointment Emma had missed in my face. What kind of a parent would miss such an important appointment? Look at all the appointments I did keep. “Do you realize I had to take my daughter over there on two buses, being sick the way she is.” “Do you think that was easy for me or for her?” I said standing my ground but with tears flowing down my cheeks. I wept, I knew God was holding onto us. They didn’t take Emma away from me.

Two years later, in 2003, at the age of 9 Emma was finally diagnosed with pediatric bi-polar disorder by the psychiatrist at Kaiser. Good, I thought, I’m not crazy there was something wrong with her. Dr. Chang put Emma on lithium, which was to involve frequent blood tests. This continued on for years, until she was put on Geodon.

She was finally let go from Easterby Elementary, after years of special accomodations, meetings for 504 plans, starting at 10:00 in the morning, instead of 8:00. After a year of her 3rd grade teacher allowing her to see her 2nd grade teacher, because she had just crawled under the desk again. After years of counseling at the school, and social workers, it finally happened. She went AWOL from school, and ran home to the apartment. This was the first of many times.

I didn’t see Emma follow the car home after the meeting.

By that time, my brother had bought me a used car. A 1990 Nissan Stanza, I still remember because it was to be my only car. When he gave it to me, I knew it was The Lord that put the keys into my hands, but only for a season. (The car broke down after only a year.)
It was then, that another meeting was called, this was an IEP, and she was put into an intervention program at Kratt. This school was not close to the house, and i was clueless if i thought she would take the Laidlaw bus out there.
The Lord and I seemed to grow continually closer.
Emma begin treatment with The County with a therapist named Gabe Gomez. He was a kind young intern who would be Emma’s therapist for 3 years.
By this time, I badly needed therapy for myself. I started to see a series of therapists. I didn’t like the first two I had, until I met Peggy Ruud.
By this time, I was attending church at The Assemblies of God. By The Grace of God I began receiving SSI disability payments for Emma.
Living with my mother became increasingly harder particularly since she married her longtime boyfriend Roger. We all lived in a 2 bedroom apartment. Mia, Emma and I slept in one room, while mom and Roger slept in the other. This was not easy since Roger was an alcoholic, as my mother had been.

It was 2004, when Emma and I moved out of my mother’s house into a one bedroom apartment. But Emma’s condition grew worse in this place.
I was attending The Valley Christian Center, and inbetween the service I would run home to check on her. Emma was only 10 at the time, and mentally ill.

This was an especially lonely time for me, as Emma and I were on our own. This was the first time I discovered i could speak in tongues. The first time, it was scary because that had never happened before. I was praising the Lord, singing to Him, when i began weeping uncontrollably, with joy, yet anguish, i wanted to run after The Lord Jesus. I cried out to Him, and then utterances, strange utterances proceeded from me. It was then, that God knew I needed a deeper relationship with Him.

When momma went to Hawaii with Roger on her honeymoon, Emma had a nervous breakdown. Emma smashed the second story window, and had a huge shard in her hand, scratching the dresser with it. I was terrified that she would tear it into herself. When I pulled it away, she bit a chunk of skin from my hand.
I called the ambulance, and she was taken to the CARRE unit. This was one of the first times, in what would be a hundred visits. Emma despised CARRE.

The ambulance wouldn’t let me ride with her. So, I waited at the bus stop alone in the dark, and rode the bus to the CARRE unit. The familiar tears streaked down my cheeks.

The social workers wanted me to put Emma in Foster Carre almost immediately.

“Lord, it almost seemed this is what my life was going to be a series of episodes, of bites and scratches?”

In those days, my face was scratched up nearly everyday, I had scratches from Emma’s nails on my cheeks. My arms were bitten. It seemed she was beating me nearly everyday.

It was then, that I began an intense time with The Lord again. I was lonely, my face scratched, and we were on foot often. i cried out to The Lord again, desperate, for Emma to get better. “Lord, i don’t care if my whole face is scratched off, please, don’t let them take her”, was my prayer every night.
By this time she had been on Depakote, Seroquel, Risperidol, Lithium, Geodon, Prozac, to name a few.

Beginning medications were hard for Emma, as she had many side affects. The medications gave her tics. She had one particular tic that she still has to this day, flicking her wrist several times a minute the whole day through. She had weight gain from her meds. Hunger was a serious side-effect, as she developed a voracious appetite, and was not satisfied with any meal she had just eaten.

But there was nothing Dr. Borchardt her psychiatrist, an older man in his 70’s could suggest. He was always prescribing different things. He took her off of the Lithium, and put her on a new drug called Lamictal, and Abilify, which was notorious for weight-gain.

She turned 11 on Decemeber 7, 2004. She had asked me to buy her a Harry Potter birthday cake, which i did. It took every last penny, and I bought her seven balloons. I was elated. When mom and I walked through the door, she gave me a look, I knew the look, it was the look of the switch having flipped. That was always a bad sign. Before we could cut the cake, Emma destroyed the cake with her bare hands, throwing it everywhere. She then took a knife, and popped all of the balloons, and yelled, “That’s what you get!” There was cake all over the ceiling fan, and frosting all over the walls, of a cake we didn’t even get to taste. My mom left with cake on her face.

I was crushed. Usually, after trying to do something nice for her. My insides were ripped, I was disembowled by this child that I loved, but wanted no love. She had an intense loathing for me. My face was usually smeared with the eye-liner I wore, and scratched.

I had just had a procedure done on my heart. The cardiologist gave me a catheter ablation, to ablate the irregular heartbeat, that had landed me in the hospital earlier in the year. I had what was known as tachycardia, I was told it was quite common, but when the heartbeat began it’s furious and rapid beat it was extremely painful.

The following week, “grammy” as Emma called her took her to buy a Christmas tree, the way she did every year. Emma was elated. But when she got home, it was the look of the “flipped switch”. She threw the Christmas tree down the flight of stairs. I brought the tree back into the apartment, only to have Emma throw the tree back down again, shouting, “What an ugly tree it was.”
“You picked it”, I reminded her. It made no difference Emma was determined to get rid of it. She threw it down several more times, until she started to sob uncontrollably, at having made the tree lopsided. She cried for what seemed like an hour then she wanted to put the blue ornaments on the tree. She was fine, until she accidently dropped one and it broke. For some reason, maybe because I was the only other person in the apartment, she turned her anger on me, and pushed my face into the broken ornament, cutting my cheek. I had to tell her I was going to call the police, which wasn’t a good idea. Sometimes she would tear the phone line from the wall.

“No mama”, she said, “It’s alright”. She took me by the hand to the bathroom, and began to wash the blood off of my face. See mom, you’re alright. She had cleaned my face, to a few visible scratches.
In the summer of 2005, we moved to the apartment complex we now live in. I also started to see a new therapist closer to where I lived. His name was Scott. This was to be a tumultuous relationship, tumultuous because the man crossed boundaries.
I should have looked for another female therapist, like Peggy. Scott was 43, and I was 40 by this time. I guess i must have really been lonely. I felt estranged from God. Emma was hitting me all of the time, and I could scarcely stand her.
Scott was tall, and altogether not a bad-looking guy. But from the beginning, he started doing things I knew were not right. He begin to say things, like he wanted to have sex with his pretty female patients, and that he was watching porno on television the night before. He cussed at me quite often, for no reason, and without provocation.
Once, I was standing outside his office waiting with a man who was waiting for his appointment. Scott passed by, I said, “hello”, and he flew by, "telling me to get my * in the office. I smiled embarrassed, but knew it was going to be one of those sessions where he ranted and raved. When I went inside, he came out of his office, looked right passed me, and went back inside his office. About 15 minutes later, he stormed outside told me to get my ****** inside the office. For the next hour he screamed at me, and cussed at me.
I put up with sessions like that because he let me call him everyday. He would take my calls when he was in session with other patients. Sometimes, he would let me talk to patients. He would tell me about his other patients. I felt it was unethical, but it made me feel important that he was sharing his work with me.
Once he asked me to cut him with a razor blade . I was mortified, and declined. He made strange requests of me, he wanted me to strangle him. I didn’t want to, but he was insistent. I said I didn’t want to hurt him. But he said I couldn’t hurt him, so I put my hands around his neck, and squeezed slightly. He wanted me to squeeze his throat tighter. I tried, but I didn’t want to hurt him. He laughed, saying, "I couldn’t hurt him, he was almost “6”."
It wasn’t all horrible, he was so funny, and when he wasn’t angry with me, he made me laugh. I needed to laugh when there seemed to be no sign of Emma getting better.
When he talked to me on the phone he was a different person, he made me feel better, would stay on the phone until i felt better.
At night, i prayed to The Lord to stay with this one. Even though I knew that therapists could not have personal relationships with their patients. In wanting my own will, i was certain God would work this out for good. After all, I was already 40, i had waited such a long time.
“I know I am his rib Lord, i feel that I am his rib.” “I really love this one Lord.” “It’s different this time Lord.” “Why would he open his shirt, so I could touch his pacemaker?”
I told him about my heart condition, and he told me he had a similar condition, then he unbuttoned his shirt, and asked me to touch his pacemaker. I didn’t want to, but I did so.

Our whatever kind of relationship it was grew more intense for me. When he wasn’t in his office, I would call him when he was on trips to Los Angeles. He never told me not to call.

He drove me home, and took the television out of the apartment to try and straighten Emma out. Other people thought it was unethical, that he came to my apartment. But I didn’t listen, I was certain he was the one.

I’m certain now, I wasn’t listening to The Holy Spirit, especially when my cutting became more frequent and intense. Scott told me I should cut myself with a scalpel even deeper. He told me to cut other parts of my body. Alot of the time, I came out of therapy feeling worse than when I went in. Everyone from my mother, to friends, to my sisters, to Emma wanted me to quit therapy.
But it was so hard to quit. I couldn’t leave him. He had a hold over me. It was the abuse, I thought he cared because of the abuse. I was so desperate to have him love me.
When he would go away to the Philippine Islands, I missed him intensely. Except for his vacations he was always there for me. I began to need him more and more.
Whenever he would go away, I tried to get away, and would call other therapists in town, make appointments, see them once, and go flying back to Scott.
I didn’t recognize it then, or maybe I did, that the enemy was using him to hurt me, and to pull me away from God.
I began burning my arms with cigarette butts, until the skin was black, and then would blister. I could feel that my prayers were having no affect.
During which my little my little sister Mia married Brandon on December 3, 2005. She was 20, and met him at cooking school, which she later dropped out of. This was the sword that pierced my heart. All of my brothers and sisters had married, and now my baby sister Mia.
One night, Emma took a knife and held it to my throat. She told me she was going to kill me if I didn’t give her her Gilligan’s Island DVD’s. I said, “You’d kill me for Gilligan’s Island.” To which she replied, "yes, I would. " Thanks be to God it wasn’t a very big knife, as I didn’t like knives in the apartment. It was the knife I used to cut her Ohi’s (little potatos) with.
I had her hospitalized, and she spent a week in Ventura Hospital. It was the loneliest and most excruciating week of my life. We had never been separated so long. I cannot begin to describe how devastated I was. I couldn’t visit her since Ventura was 300 miles away. I called her everyday, and cherished her voice over the phone.
i cried out to The Lord, and wept at His Feet. I could not get the words stuck in my heart out, like little pieces of shard, squeezing drops of blood .
Immediately upon her return the social workers threatened to take her away, and put her in a group home.
It was anguish, as I cried out to Jesus for wisdom concerning this big decision. All of the professionals, Gabe, the ladies from Families First that had been coming to the apartment now for nearly 2 years, Dr. Borchardt and others said I should put her into a group home.

Not once but more than once. I cried out and lifted my voice to The Lord. “I can’t give her up. Please keep us together. But let it be Your Will.” It seems more often than not my face was always plastered to the floor. I didn’t understand. But, I knew that God’s thoughts, were not our thoughts, nor were His Ways our ways, for as High as The Heavens were above the earth, so were His thoughts higher than our thoughts, and His Ways than our ways.

I had been going to a Lutheran church near my apartment. Scott came to support me in my trying to study and become a member. I was both elated, and nervous that Scott was going to meet the Pastor. He met Pastor Young, and they shook hands. We both sat in front of the minister, like a husband and wife receiving counseling. I was sure this was a sign. I remember watching a lady on TBN say, “The Lord will bring the man to your house.” Scott came to my house, and now we were both sitting in front of the minister. This was more than a coincidence, (it turns out not) he was going to be my husband. (Part of the borderline personality disorder symptoms were magical thinking, nonsensical thinking, like this.)

Trying to go to the Lutheran church was of no avail. After I finished my membership courses with the Pastor, I knew I could not join them. They too espoused to the man-made doctrine you can lose your Salvation. I told Pastor Young I could not go up to the altar, and say I agreed to the doctrine when it was a lie. He told me just to go up, anyway, and say that I affirmed their beliefs. I told him I was sorry, but I am not going to lie in front of My Lord Jesus Christ. When Jesus promised me in His Word, He would never leave nor forsake me. I soon begin to realize there weren’t many who knew The Father. In His Word God gave me so many passages to affirm to me that once I was His, I was His. There would be bruisings to crush the sin from me, but there would be no abandonment of His daughter. Gary left Emma, "My daughter do you believe I would ever do the same to you and Emma? I AM YOUR FATHER FOREVER. And I smiled, secure In His Love for me.

I had been in prayer for Emma, and for Scott. The more I prayed the more weary I seemed to grow. The wrestling in prayer seemed to pull me deeper into union with The Lord Jesus, He became more real to me. I began speaking in tongues more frequently in prayers and praise. But that isn’t the reason I felt connected to the Person of Jesus Christ. The Holy Spirit continually seemed to be.
I prayed and prayed, but prayers to The Lord grew increasingly harder, as I began to sense my prayer was not going to be answered.

When Scott came back from one of his trips to the Philippines Islands he was wearing a wedding band. He had gotten married. I can’t explain, or maybe I can try to write, my heart disintegrated into ashes. I slid a cigarette into my mouth, which he told me to get out of my mouth. But I wasn’t going to sit there the whole hour knowing he was married to another woman. When I took out the match to light it, he warned, if I lit it, he was kicking me out of therapy. Which wouldn’t have been the first time he kicked me out of therapy, actually it would have been the third, but who was counting. I lit the match, and two years of therapy was over.
He immediately walked out of his office. I sat there and finished my cigarette.

Mia and Brandon had been living with me during that time. Brandon was lovely, Mia my sister I suspected of being a borderline like myself, only without the self-mutilation, and all of the mood swings. Scott had told me to kick them out of my apartment, but I couldn’t.

The Lord Jesus helped me through this time. Living with Mia and Brandon became impossible. I knew they didn’t have any place to go. Mom only had one bedroom, and I had two. They had just gotten kicked out of Mia’s in-laws. They had no money. But, Mia loathed me. I don’t know what it was, but she was always so rude to me. This was especially hard since I took care of her since she was an infant. We had spent so many years together, and at times it seemed she didn’t remember. She was like a daughter to me, I was the maid of honour at her wedding to Brandon. Her lack of feeling for me, crushed me. Living with her and Brandon was impossible.

But I began Praising Jesus with my headphones on. I sang whole Praise CD’s, and this brought me into deeper intimacy with God. The Holy Spirit drew me into Praise, and I felt in those times such liberation, freer than I ever felt, more joyful, and it was then I knew that Praise was more for me, than for Our Lord. Even though it was meant for Him, the Gift of Praise gave me a deep sense of abiding with Him.

This trial, drew me nearer To Him, To The Almighty.

A few months later Mia and Brandon moved into their own apartment, with mom’s help.

Emma began attending school at Heritage, known as Day Treatment. By this time she was at the end of her 7th grade year. She never attended her junior high, and circumstances forced the professionals to send her to this therapeutic school.

We were having a get together, with my sisters and brothers. Emma was highly agitated. Mia began with her, the way she does, picking on her. The closet doors needed to be hinged, as they were unhinged. With the adrenaline of her rage, she picked up that closet door, and attempted to ram it down Mia’s throat. We pulled the door from her grasp, but not until Emma bit Mia in the face, and drew blood from her cheek.

I had to call the police, even though no one wanted me to. Not even Mia. But, I wanted to teach Emma, that although I didn’t really call the police when she attacked me, she couldn’t get away with assaulting people without the consequences.

The police had come to the apartments over the years. None of them had really mistreated her. Most of them were very kind to her. Except one, whose step-daughter suffered from bipolar disorder. He scolded her quite a bit.

So, now Emma was at The Day Treatment Program. It was there that her new therapist Don Krikorian told me that she probably had aspergers disorder a high functioning form of autism, which characterized itself in her fixation on things. Like her love, and fixation on Hogan’s Heroes. Emma knew every episode by heart.

Oh no, Lord, not one more thing. During this time I had gone back to Fresno City College to finish my AA degree in Drug and Alchol Counseling.
Emma made that nearly impossible, as I had to call the teachers nearly everyday to explain why I wasn’t there. As it was nearly impossible to get her to school. Even though a county car came for Emma to take her to the school, she would not go. When she did go, the chauffer said Emma had hygiene problems, not uncommon with somone who is mentally ill.

Don Krikorian left, and was replaced by Dr. Calderon at EDT. He was very chauvinistic, and would leave threatening messages on my answering machine. Emma was kicked out of EDT for not attending. As usual I had to stand between myself and the teachers and therapists. Gabe her therapist used to say I was always trying to rescue Emma. But what else is a parent supposed to do?

While this was going on, I had a most disagreeable neighbor downstairs.
Who made it impossible for me to live where I lived. He was a Vietnam veteran who would bang the ceiling with a broom, who was bothered by every little noise. I felt so harassed by the enemy, I asked God to take me already. So, I Praised God, and it was at such times with The Lord, that i felt so removed from this body, and so close to Jesus. I would scream out, for Him to literally take me.

There were the times He would touch me in my sleep with His Gentle Hand. No other touch could compare to the Touch of Jesus. I can scarcely describe the extreme love that washed over me. When these rare occurences happened, I can tell you I never have felt such joy or so loved.

But by The Grace and Goodness of God, the manager moved me to another apartment.

After I quit my therapy with Scott, or he dropped me, i spiraled into a chasm, into a dark place. I couldn’t pray, somehow feeling that God would taunt my prayers. I had stopped trusting Him. This was my zombie phase. (I am so ashamed)

I started on SSI after I left Scott. I watched every scary movie I could find on cable. This was the root of bitterness God wanted to take out. It was during this time I couldn’t pray. I was crushed, bruised and impaled was how I felt. I now realize this was necessary in order to draw me into a deeper life with God.

It was months, before I was able to pray. One night, I cried out, "Why do you hate me? Why does nothing ever work out, when I have tried so hard to keep jobs, and raise this child you gave me to raise. I have loved her Father. Because You gave me the strength to Love her, when everyone around thought I should put her into a group home. It was then that The Holy Spirit told me that God had been protecting us. I wanted to seek God’s Glory with a profound passion.

I began to see a Christian therapist named Mary Watts, my therapist now.

In the Fall of 2008 Emma began her freshman year. It was no less agonizing than the rest of the years. Emma was in the Special Education Program, but now had to go to six classes instead of just one. I knew that was not going to set well with Emma.

I had to spend most of that year circling the campus for hours in case she needed me. I would wonder from store to store, or sit in the fast food place buying a soda, re-filling it several times writing poetry, or reading my bible.
We had so many IEP’s. To date we must have had 200 IEPS (Individual Educational Plan).
Emma grew considerably worse, she began to scab herself on campus, purposely rubbing her arm against the sides of buildings. I didn’t know how to feel, numb, but alive, in shock, a type of grief, but walking around. It almost seemed, she would come home injured in some way. There were days she would jump the barbed wire fence, and come home, soaked in the rain, with only one shoe.

I wanted to pull her out of school but the teachers, and administrators there wouldn’t let me home school her because of the IEP.

I began to cry out to God once again. I needed to abide In Him once again. The years never seemed to get easier but I was only getting older. I wasn’t 20 anymore, and it was then I knew I wasn’t ever going to get married. I began to have peace about never being married. It didn’t hurt me to see couples together.

At times raising Emma was taking it’s toll on me emotionally. I had a friend named Jim, who throughout the years who was one of the professors I had gotten involved with when I was 25. The affair didn’t last long, it was a longer friendship. He was the man I had a connection with. We didn’t always talk, years would pass, and I would call him up, or go to the university. He always reciprocated.

I had been in contact with him during my therapy with Scott he had been one of the people who told me to leave him.

It wasn’t until 2009 that I let myself become emotionally involved with him again.
The Lord would have to purge me of this friend too. But he didn’t believe in God. He believed in a god of his own choosing, his church married homosexuals and lesbians, called themselves love, because they were all-inclusive, knew nothing about The Holiness of God. So, it came to, that I had to drop this person. This was a person who believed Hitler would go to heaven. Can you imagine? It hurt The Holy Spirit to have to be around him. My Lord Jesus was extremely hurt.

We began to date briefly, he was so old I dare not record his age, but suffice to write there was an emotional connection.

That summer I began my life here on Red Bubble in July of 2009. It started out for my glory, but God will not share His Glory with another, and slowly my writings and my profile page began to change, without my realizing it. I can write, it is my greatest joy writing about The Lord Jesus.

There was no one more important than My God. To what avail? What does light have with darkness, or the temple of God with idols? No, God finally severed my ties with Jim. Even though I had known him since I was 24 years old. What made it hard was the familiarity of it. I had loved him, and I found myself loving him again. Even though he hadn’t changed, and I found many of the same problems between us as before. I could have gone on being his friend, but the Lord told me he didn’t want me to even have him as a friend anymore. How could I, and still love Jesus when he believed that Jesus Christ was not The Lord of Glory. l began to slowly back away from him in 2010. Then, I just stopped calling him. The Lord made it made easier for me by giving me a Christian friend for a season here on Red Bubble from the United Kingdom.

I had been compelled to quit Red Bubble in the beginning. My comments were non-existent. I told myself that I would not write anymore if I could not write for God. So I stopped writing. It was then that The Lord gave me the Poem, “Make me a Garment of Praise.” That poem was featured for the month of May in 2010 in For the Love of Jesus group. Then in May 2010 I was the featured artist For the Love of Jesus group.

One day there were alot of comments by an artist on my writings. I wrote to thank him, and he wrote me a long bubble mail saying he wanted to be friends. We wrote everyday to each other for a month, and then we begin to call one another.

In the beginning, I began to get the wrong idea about this man. He told me about very intimate details in his life, and I thought it meant he liked me romantically. But I was too soon discover he had a very close female friend back in England who was only 28. I was already a jaded 45 year old.

We had become face book friends. I also became face book friends with his friend. She was beautiful, and I could feel the jealousy rise up inside of me everytime we spoke. He swore to me that he was not interested in her that way, that they were both alcoholics at one time and were delivered from it at the same time.

Suffice to say the phone calls became heated on both ends, he would cuss at me, and yell at me from across the Atlantic. At first he encouraged me not to see Jim, later it seemed he almost demanded it. I don’t know in myself if this is the real reason, or part of the reason I dropped Jim from my life. But I can write that I miss nothing about him. This was all due to The Lovingkindness of Jesus Christ that finally took him away. I thank him for all of the people he took away that hurt me. I had believed they were helping, but the cuts were evidence that they weren’t.

I would get off of the phone in tears with this friend from England. He stopped writing me as often. I stopped calling. I wrote him one final time, and he wrote back saying, “he wanted nothing to do with me.”

I was very hurt by this. I used to pray to my Father, and asked Him to let me finally stay with someone. Even though he was from England I knew nothing was impossible with God. My mom and sister, did not want me to get hurt again; they didn’t want to see me get my hopes up. Mom told me in the blunt way she does, that I wasn’t being realistic. But, I was going to trust in God. When it all blew up in my face, I wasn’t angry with God this time. I accepted the fact, that I wasn’t meant to be married. “My Grace is Sufficient for you. My Strength is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Corinthians 12:9)

By 2010, The Lord was cleansing and healing the old wounds. God was using Mary, my Christian therapist to heal me. Her own daughter Christa had died of leukemia when she was 16 years old. She was very understanding and kind where Emma was concerned.

The Lord did another thing for us. Emma hated working with her last therapist It was hard terminating the relationship we had with The Heritage, County Mental Health for children. Because of her IEP, the directors of Heritage and the administrators of the school especially were unwilling to release her from her treatment there.

Emma wasn’t connecting to any of the therapists after leaving The Day Treatment Program at Heritage.

It was The Grace of Jesus Christ, that Mary was able to take Emma as a client. When I asked her if she could see Emma, she told me she was unable to take any more clients at the time. The fact that she was able to, without it being a conflict of interest since I was her client too is to the Glory of God. Mary always says, “It is a God thing.”
The Lord gave her to talk to me. She was everything Scott was not.
The Almighty used Mary to get her into a Charter School. The administrators and teachers, the school psychologist in particular made it exceedingly difficult for Emma to be extricated from the Fresno Unified School District. For years I had tried, but in vain. It wasn’t time. God does things in His Timing and not ours.
Over the arduous years there had been many IEPS, meetings, and anguish to no avail.

It seemed certain obstacles were now being supernaturally removed.

In 2010, my sister Mo introduced me to a preacher on the inter-net named Paul Washer. He was to give us deeper teaching into the Glory of God.

The computer age has made many things easier. I didn’t have to listen to sermons with antiquated headphones, with all of the static that it comes with, as 99.9 didn’t always come through clearly. The Word was like a banquet on the Inter-net. Provided one wanted to be fed. I felt the inter-net could be used for The Glory of God, since it was He that created it.

More and More, I wanted The Glory of God. More and More, I cried out for His Holiness. More and More The Holy Spirit compelled me to sing Praises to His Glory. More and More all i wanted to do was write about Jesus, my Lord.

i handed the last of my razors to Jesus. When The Holy Spirit told me, and I heard Him this time, “You are cutting the Precious Flesh of The Saviour Jesus.”
i did more than weep, the scars are the only evidence, that i had ever been a cutter, God forgave me."

I started to take things out of the house, starting in 2009. Harry Potter DVD’s, Supernatural DVD’s, Underworld DVD’s, I had bought Emma over the years. The Holy Spirit began to reveal to me, that Holiness was profound in it’s completeness. There was to be a separation of the people of God, as we are consecrated to Him.

A sweep of the heart was to be made, as well as a sweep of the house. i gave away tee-shirts of Twilight I had bought for Emma at Hot Topics. The Holy Spirit said vampires did not honour God. He explained to me it wasn’t legalism, but Holiness.

God said, “BE HOLY FOR I AM HOLY!”

The Holy Spirit told me that The Church was resisting the Holiness of God. I cried out to be cleansed in The Holy Fires of Jesus Christ. I loved singing Praises to Jesus with the Keith Green CD’s. The Lord used His servant Keith Green to sing His Praises while helping the homeless in the 70’s. He was killed in a small plane accident with his two small children in 1982 at the age of 28.
Two of his songs connect me so profoundly to my Lord Jesus Christ, “Create in me a clean heart”, and “Make my life a prayer to you.”
In the last couple of years, in particular The Holy Spirit gave me the gift of Praise, because i enjoy Praising more than anything, He gives me so much Joy in lifting up Praise to My Saviour Jesus Christ.
It was a gift I had prayed for. I knew people who Praised God with a sincere heart, Praise just naturally came forth from their hearts through their lips. I wanted the Fruit of Praise.
If we could all give God praise, like the lady who broke open her alabaster box for The Lord Jesus. The song Alabaster Box is all i want to give to Him, My Lord Jesus who has done everything for me.
“I want to love how You Love. Jesus, i must decrease, Oh but Beautiful Lord you must increase in this world that is under Your Justice, and under Your Judgment.” Oh, but in this hour Lord there is still so much of Your Mercy."
I’ve been forgiven of so much. That is why I Love You Lord Jesus so much. Oh Master, even now come unto me. Even now unworthy as i am. You are all my Righteouness, My Joy, My Love, My Hope, My Glory. There is no Glory without you. You are the Glory of me, You are The Glory of this house, You are the Glory of this world, you are the Glory of this vessel."

“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things have passed away, behold all things have become new."
(2 Corinthians 5:17)

My Grace Is Sufficient For you

Matty B. Duran

Joined July 2009

  • Artist
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Artist's Description

“Concerning this thing I pleaded with The Lord three times that it might depart from me.
Therefore most gladly I will rather boast in my infirmities that the Power of Christ may rest upon me.
Therefore I take pleasures in infirmities, in reproaches, in needs, in persecutions, in distresses, for Christ’s Sake.
For when i am weak, then i am strong."
(2 Corinthians 12:9-10)

For all these things My Hand has made,
And all those things exist,"
Says the Lord,
“But on this one I look;
On him who is poor and of a contrite spirit,
And who trembles at My Word.
(Isaiah 66:2)

“And I will pray The Father, and He will give you another Helper, that He may abide with you forever.”
The Spirit of Truth, whom the world cannot *receive, because it neither sees Him, nor knows Him; but you know Him, for He dwells with you and will be in you.
I will not leave you orphans; I will come to you.
(John 14:15-17)
“But The Helper, The Holy Spirit, whom The Father will send in My Name, He will teach you all things , and bring to your rememberance all things that I said to you.”
(John 14:26)

“However, when He, The Spirit of Truth, has come He will guide you into all truth; for He does not speak on His own authority, but whatever He hears He will speak; and He will tell you things to come.”
(John 16:13)

Have you forgotten the exhortation which speaks to you as to sons:
“My son, do not despise the chastening of The Lord,
Nor be discouraged when you are rebuked
by Him;
For whom the Lord loves He chastens,
And scourges every son whom He receives.”
If you endure chastening, God deals with you as sons; for what son is there whom a father does, not chasten?
But if you are without chastening, of which all have become partakers, then you are illegitimate and not sons.

(Hebrews 12:5-8)
“Coming to Him as to a living stone, rejected indeed by men, but chosen by God and precious,
you also, as living stones, are being built up a spiritual house, a holy priesthood, to offer up spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ.”
(1 Peter 2:4-5)

“as obedient children, not conforming yourselves to the former lusts, as in your ignorance:
but as He who called you is Holy, you also be holy in all your conduct,
because it is written,
“Be holy, for I AM HOLY!”
(1 Peter 1:14-16)

(John 14:6)

No Christian religion is going to connect you to Jesus Christ, if you are trusting in a particular denomination.
“The Church, The Body of Christ are only those indwelt with The Holy Spirit.

i am a sinner, and still a sinner, but by The Grace of God, am being conformed into the Image of Jesus Christ.
This is my humble testimony to THE GLORY OF ALMIGHTY GOD!"

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Matty B. Duran

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