Precious Cargo

I decided to write this blog because I believe the Lord has led me to tell people who He is and to share what He has done in my life.  I picture it unfolding as a mixture of current day events as well as a fair share of walking down paths worn with time.

To talk about the past in such a public forum is not something I take lightly as there are many people involved.  People I love.  My prayer is that God would give me the courage to share what may help someone and the wisdom to know what is beneficial and for His glory……

“God bless my precious cargo”

She prayed this over us in the car every morning on the way to Vacation Bible School.  This little lady with the thick accent and wispy hair.  Her house was kitty-corner across the street from ours but it seemed a world away.  The lovely flowers and abundant garden was a stark contrast from our house that backed up to the pond.  Ours was a place  where the only roots taking hold were ones of addiction, broken promises and loss.

My mom loved her flowers and I am so grateful she was able to plant and tend later in her life but in this season the blooms weren’t a joy she could grasp.  Her struggle with alcohol and her grief over the loss of her child was stealing deeply from her.

It took me by surprise when she allowed me to go with the lively neighbor as she often had a great dislike and mistrust of woman.  I didn’t understand why this lady would want to take me with her, but she did, and off we went.  I don’t remember the conversation or the faces of the other children in the car but I remember her daily prayer and the way she seemed to light up when she spoke it.

“Lord Jesus, bless my precious cargo……”  “In Jesus name……” 

I thought she must be talking to the others, but something in her eyes told me I was included in her request.

During camp, I remember being by myself when we went out to play.  I was far too shy to interact with the other kids so I wandered around in the sunshine trying to look busy and invisible as I picked up a rock here and there.

At the end of the week we all sat in a circle as awards were passed around. A smiling adult gave one to me.  It was beautiful.  Hand drawn with those oil pastels that were always the envy in art class.  The ones that created the richest colors but smeared everywhere if you were careless with your sleeves. The words are long forgotten but I remember the curly letters that made me feel like someone had seen me.

Jesus made Himself know to me that week and many other times during the hidden years of my childhood.  Years that would have been lacking in God if not for His constant pursuit of my heart.

The door to door salesman with the books of Bible Stories.  I pleaded and whined loudly enough that my mom broke down and bought the book with the mustard yellow cover and the deep red letters.  The illustrations are still kept in my minds eye.

The time in my room when the light fell hazy through the dusty window and I sat on my bed; frightened and alone.  A moment in time when my heart cried out for an unknown need and my Jesus came.  It brings tears to me eyes even as I write this because I can still feel His presence in that moment.  His love and His peace; real and true, leaving no room for the fear that threatened to overcome.

Days, months and years went by and the chains of chaos, violence and alcohol wrapped more tightly around my biological parents.  My life began to grow heavy with links from the same chains.  I was too detached to notice or care and slowly they began to take hold.

My love of God was true but mixed with false teachings and I began to trade the Jesus I loved for lies.  If He was real like I believed maybe He had died.  Maybe I was wrong and He wasn’t real at all.

Thankfully, I may have been confused but my Lord is a God of truth.

He is God who saves

……..and save me He did.

Our God is a God who saves; from the Sovereign Lord comes escape from death. – Psalm 68:20 NIV

He spoke His truth through strangers and people known to me.  Every where I turned there He was.  My Redeemer didn’t wait for me to clean up my act. He reached right into my mess; right into my darkness and carried me out.

Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine.  When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through the fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you.  For I am the LORD your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior. – Isaiah 43:1-3 ESV

More time passed, and I found myself telling my story to a large group of women at a women’s retreat.  When we returned to town I decided to stop by and see the lady who took me to VBS all those years ago.  As I walked up to her door I began to shake.  The Jesus sticker on her screen door gave me hope that she would welcome this unexpected visit.

Sure enough she ushered me in and listened to this now adult telling the story of all God had done.  She told me about the group of kids they had called to the front and prayed over that very morning.  Asking the Lord to watch over and guide their lives, and now here I was.  Oh, the sweet timing of our Savior.

She told me how the Lord had told her she was to be a conduit.  Since English is not her first language she had to look up its meaning.  She learned that it is an channel through which something is conveyed.  A means by which something is transmitted.  She was to be willing.  His love was to be shared with others.

I cried on her couch that day.  She wrapped a blanket around me.  Once again sharing the love of God with a little girl barely known to her once who had grown to be a woman she didn’t know at all.

There she was again.

A conduit for Jesus love.

~ Deon