I Don't Want to Die! I don't Want to Die by being Hung with a Rope!

I was falsely accused. A sheriff was out to get me and out to get me he did. He did everything he could to get me under his control. He lied. He lied so much it became truth to him and those he served. I was arrested and put under his authority. He did not stop there he wanted me dead. He convinced the people of the town I deserved death and so they agreed. A few people didn’t believe this sheriff and fought for my freedom, relentlessly. I could see their compassion in their eyes but oh, this sheriff was far too powerful or so he thought.

It was decided, I would have death by hanging and he was 'kind enough' to come in and tell me what exactly would happen, both he and his deputies. However, I did not fear I trusted Father to help me for I knew the truth and I knew no matter what, my God would come through for me.

I was falsely accused and the people believed the accusations. It broke my heart because I would no longer get to see the people who cared so much for me and fought so hard for my freedom. Vileness and despair was forever seething from this sheriff about me.

They brought out the gallows but it was different from a full-sized gallows. I had to stand on a dark wooden bench AND somehow get hung. The deputies were all laughing and going on about how horrible this death would be for me but I trusted Father to save me or give me strength to see Him reveal Himself through the hanging, whether by saving me or simply giving me courage to endure the rope and situation. The deputies were telling me that my eyes would pop out and if I didn’t want that to happen I needed to close my eyes really tight which would hold my eyes in my sockets, so I held them tight.

All of a sudden, I felt something so surreal, I could sense what was happening but it didn’t seem like it was. I had been hung and left dangling on the rope, still alive. I could hear what was going on around me. I wouldn’t die. I thought I was dead and my spirit was experiencing life around me, but it was actually my body experiencing everything, yet I was not dead.

I wasn’t moving so they thought I was dead and released me to the coroner. They took me down from the rope and laid me on the floor for the coroner to come and take care of me. I could still smell, hear, and feel but I was so still. I thought, “It has happened, I am now dead,” for when I was falling from being hung, I could feel the pressure of the rope around my neck. I could feel pain shooting through my body and I could sense I was not breathing. However, I still felt alive but in a different place, a hazy, yet spiritual-type of place where I could even see what was going on around me without my eyes being open.

There was friend who stayed with me to the end along with the deputies. The coroner said death by asphyxiation/hanging, but I was still alive. I was still in my body even though I was in a slump lying on the floor. The coroner took me for my autopsy. As we entered the autopsy room, the others there were finishing up with a burn victim. As the victim was being moved, one of the doctors came over to see me all slumped on the floor. I was not placed on a lovely clean cot, I had been dragged there and left in a pile because the sheriff had convinced most on his force that I was the worst of offenders, yet he never would say the charges against me aloud. It was amazing to me that people would believe him without any actual crimes stated.

I kept thinking to myself, “I am alive, I am alive, and they have to know I am alive before they start cutting me open and thereby really killing me.” As they were moving the burn victim from the table it was on to another place, the doctor was looking at me and I forced my eyes open just a sliver. The doctor nearly fell backwards with fright, alarming the people who were moving the burn victim. They dropped the burn victim to the floor and the entire body split to chunks in a three-foot area from where it fell.

“Good,” I thought, “they saw me; they knew I was still alive and surely they would help me”. This was not the case, for the sheriff had been successful at turning their minds against me as well. An immediate phone call was placed to the sheriff and he arrived quickly. He was screaming at the top of his lungs, spewing out his disbelief and anger. He spoke rashly with vile words of death to me. You see, there was absolutely nothing else he could legally do to me now, death by hanging was my sentence, but I could only be hung once. He was fuming and pacing trying to figure out what could be done. He determined he would take my body and put me in an old abandoned barn and let me rot there until death took me.

That is exactly what he did. He found an abandoned barn and threw me in the center of it with no covering, no blankets, nothing. He left me there to die an awful, slow, painful death. It felt like death was coming every day for I had nothing to neither eat nor drink. No one came to care for me for he had placed me there in secret. I could barely move and so I didn’t. I breathed shallow breaths all the while with my mind I thanked Jesus for keeping me alive. For that is what I was – alive.

I wasn’t in a surreal place any longer I was in my actual body not on the outside looking in. When hanging it was as though I had been allowed to see everything that was going on with minimal pain and only a sense of what was really happening. It was as though I could see without opening my eyes, as if I was in a daydream, but a real daydream.

I saw with my own eyes slightly cracked open the barn walls with small slots just big enough to allow the golden sunshine come in and warm me as I lay on the hay in the middle of the barn. It felt and seemed as though all the spaces between the wallboards were casting sunlight upon me. I was so weak and frail. I couldn’t move. It seemed like days on end and no one was around to check on me, for dead I was.

Somehow though, my friend found me. He scooped me up in his arms and took me to a secret place where he could tend to my severe wounds and needs. He didn’t talk to me but I could feel the love, gentleness, compassion and warmth flowing from him right into me just by him being in the same room with me and then even more so when he touched me. 

I had lain so long on my right side in the barn, pain started to overcome me. Being in this man’s presence, I began to feel pain, true overwhelming pain, I hadn’t felt before. I was in agony but not the kind of pain that I would cry out for death to take me. The suffering from this pain was the kind I knew I had to feel and sense in order to recover. I was beginning to feel for real, I was no longer just sensing my surroundings from the outside looking in I was seeing my surroundings and feeling them, seeing and experiencing them from the inside out. I was healing. I was being made whole.

I began to sit and move in ways I hadn’t moved in so long, it seemed like an eternity since my limbs were utilized. Slowly and methodically, I started to use them. My friend told me the sheriff was dead which was hard for me to believe. My friend also told me the sheriff had died in his old age. Reality hit me hard for I finally became aware that I had been suffering in that barn for years and years, then into the care of my friend for years as well.

I was happy to hear the sheriff was dead but my friend reassured me that the original deputies and new deputies were still around and knew my story. I needed to move far away from their grasp. My friend shared with another friend that he had found me and had been taking care of me for some time but that it was time for me to relocate and begin a new life.

They had to stuff me in the trunk of a car for there were roadblocks and checkpoints when leaving that area. We were stopped at one of the checkpoints and the officers opened the trunk and I got out but it was as though they couldn’t see me. We got the ok to leave, so I tucked myself back in the trunk and we set off for my new life.

We arrived at my new home and were reacquainted with friends of old who had longed to see me. I was not the same in body or spirit for what I had gone through had changed me inside and out as well as outside in, but people still knew me. I hadn’t yet seen my face and had wondered if my eyes or eye had popped out. I also wondered if I was really seeing or only imagining seeing things, as I wanted, for my senses had become so heightened during this tumultuous time.

I looked into the mirror, my face had been totally changed, and I was no longer the same neither on the outside nor on the inside. I wasn’t what some would call ugly but I was different. I looked like I had lived a hard life, bumped and bruised, but alive. The left side of my face was swelled and it seemed my cheekbone was higher as well as my eye. "How could I not look different from all I had gone through, all the torture and harsh punishment I received," I asked myself. I was seeing myself for the first time, far from anything the world would consider lovely, but I saw one who had been marred and mauled by an onslaught of attacks from vicious people. There was nothing lovely about me; I was very plain, very peaceful.

Days grew into weeks and I found myself becoming antsy and even short with my friends who were caring and watching out for me. They warned me to be careful for I was getting to a dangerous point of no return in thinking to highly of myself. I would go about the house saturating myself in the ‘pretties’ that were there just for me. Once they told me though, I became devastated. I started grasping at everything in the house, everything I thought to be of great value. I didn’t want to be who I was becoming, so I cried out, while clinging to the curtains screaming, “Jesus, I don’t want to be this way. Forgive me, heal me, and take me from myself." I called to Him and He answered.

You see, He had been with me all along. He was the one Who saw me being falsely accused. He was the one Who found me in the barn. His friend was Holy Spirit Who was right beside Him healing, comforting, forming, and caring for me. The other friends who came to visit me were all the beautiful aspects of Jesus, God and Holy Spirit.

This dear friends, was the dream I woke from this morning. I believe Holy Spirit kept prompting me to get up. Get up I did and started typing. 

Who/what are the ''sheriff's'' in your life? How about the deputies? 

Are you in a situation so deep that it seems you are dead, but really you are just barely hanging on with little breath?

Father or The Father, Holy Spirit or The Holy Spirit, that is the question I asking of you.

Prayer is a one to one conversation with Father. Sure, if we pray Jesus please do such-and-such, God is awesome enough to work for us because He is God. Think about this for a moment, if I were to call you Buster when your name is actually Abigail, wouldn’t you wonder why I was not calling you by the name given to you at birth? It’s not that God wonders why, it’s just a learning point for us that when we pray we should pray like this, “Our Father”.

I would like to stretch our thinking a bit more by opening our minds to praying to Him and talking about Him as Father. That is one of His names, Father. So often, I hear in our Christian circles people talking about God as The Father and such. I would like us to consider talking about and to Father just as I have written Father. No, He will not stop hearing us or listening if we pray, talk about Him or talk to Him using the name The Father, a different name unless it is not a name given Him, then we would be praying to someone else and that I will not do. Take some time to chew on this especially when you are out and about having conversations with others about Father. It’s easy to say His name God, but to call Him Father instead of The Father is different. His name is not The Father, it is Father, among many other names but The is never a part of His name.  

Let’s take this a step further, Holy Spirit is not a THE Holy Spirit, He is Spirit and His name is Holy Spirit. I’m not getting all hung up on whether Holy Spirit is a He/She type thing, what I am trying to communicate is His name is Holy Spirit, not THE Holy Spirit, so when speaking of Him, maybe we could consider saying, “Holy Spirit”, like we would say if referencing me-Wendi Peck. I am also not trying to bring condemnation on those who say The Holy Spirit or The Father, I’m simply sharing what I believe is truth about Father and Holy Spirit.

Many times, people say prayer is a two-way street, you get to talk and you GET to listen. This is very true. Often I find myself having conversations with Father as I am reading/studying my Bible. The Bible truly is His very words He wants us to hear, study, know, and memorize. Daily Father shows me what needs rearranging, gutting, enhanced, etc. in my life as well as how to pray for others, how to magnify Him, and more. Let’s set aside some time today to quiet ourselves, open the Bible, read it, speak it, talk with Him about it and enjoy. 

It's 5 am Somewhere and This Might Be The Conversation:

No seam ripper can tear us apart.

We are bound together, Moon.

You’re the cott-on which I rest.

I love you sew much.

You keep me in stitches.

You patch me up.

You needle me as much as I needle you.

We zigzag together.

You hem me in with your prayers.

I love to pattern my life after you.

You lay me down, cut me up and make a beautiful piece for all to see.

You’ve padded me on the shoulders as well as ripped out my seams.

You’re full of ZIPper.

I’m hooked on you.

I needling you all the time.-Angi

I’m just dying to change color.

You don’t have to per-suede me.-Angi

We make a good seam.

You make it easy to change the tension in my life.

You’re the prettiest button in this box called life.

Even though we’re yards away, we permanent press into Father.-Dave

Don’t you threading me, I’m pre-washed!

Quilter I may hurt you.

Seamstress is a filler.-Keven & Wendi

Seamstress is an attachment you don’t want.-Keven

Darn, we’ve spun out of control.-Angi

Did you see him the other day, he was all frayed?

Where you coming up with all this scrap?

Manual NEVER stop!-Angi

You’re the zig in my zag.

Bobbin I are talking about ironings (ironies).

I am not SCRAPPY.

Only spools rush in where angels fear to thread.-Angi

You cut me up.

Eyelet you in, don’t let me down.-Keven

I think Keven is a little bias.-Angi

You’ll always have a lace in my heart.

Weave a good pairing.

Seams like nobody likes a good quilter.-Keven

You should bolt from bad patterns in life.-Keven

I told the boxer to bobbin weave.-Keven

You’re sew smart.-Angi

I ‘felt’ the same about muslins.-Keven

Should we post this floral the world to see?-Angi

We sure are squares.-Angi

Sew, needles to say, I love you Moon and love God even more. He is the master at work in both of our lives.

You have these qualities because you spend time with Father and this is Who He is and what He does.

Sewing with Angi, Dave, Keven and I

We did not look these up or copy them from any sight, just had fun using our minds and laughing with/at each other via texting.

Dumpster Diving Anyone Interested?

One of the things I do on my daily walk - take out the trash...Let's examine our lives today and ask, "What things need to go out with the trash and into the dumpster never to be brought back into my home?" You might be thinking, “No way am I digging in a dumpster for any thrown away items. I would never bring trash like that into my home.” I have thought the same thing as well. Yet, I have dug into the dumpster of other “things” (hurtful attitudes, angry words, bad habits, time wasters,  character/emotional/physical/spiritual/mental and relational destroyers) to dig them out and put them back in my life, my home. How about u?

Let's put them there and keep them there, who's WITH me?

Keep 'em Comin' Bartender!

This morning (9.11) I went about doing my normal things I do. During my walk I had the fantastic opportunity to meet and greet Miss Stella. Oh this was NO happenstance meet and greet I was intentional with my yelling, “Good morning,” across the parking lot to the woman with the cane, hobbling to get out of the sun and into her cool apartment all the while walking directly for her.

Sweetheart, Miss Stella, warmly shouted, “Good morning,” to me as well. Of course, by that time the increased gate of my walk had drawn me close and she welcomed me into her ‘space’ where we chatted for some time. Miss Stella was lonely; she made it clear through the words and actions she shared. She mentioned how she had moved from New Jersey to ‘this place’ and how much she hated it, but she needed to be near her children who lived in the area. She went on to mention a couple and our front office rental agent, Lucy. Miss Stella shared all about how they had reached out to her for if they hadn’t she would be somewhere else. We visited a bit more; she with sweat running down her face mentioned how warm it was. We parted ways with hopes of seeing each other again. I love connection stories like that where I can laugh at myself. It gets even better, keep reading.

As I was grilling my chicken, doing my thing, enjoying life and turned on some blaring music, there stands a young military man greeting ME! “Hello,” I raise my voice and shout, “Hello”, go about turning my meat, minding my own business when the thought hits me, “Turn your music down. You will get to share life with this young man. Turn it off.” I did and realized Omar had a question for me. I answered Omar’s question about how to get the grill going. You see, there is a secret switch on the back of the huge outdoor grill section he didn’t know about. I then learned Omar just returned from the Netherlands from a military tour. He just moved into the apartment complex a couple weeks ago like us. We talked about many things and I shared with him my many thanks for serving our country. He drew tender in his speech as we reminisced about today, 9/11.

A Few Thoughts about 9/11 by Wendi Ann Peck

9/11, a day to remember.

9/11, a day to be thankful for what we have.

9/11, a day to say thank you to all who have served.

9/11 a day to say thank you to all who are still serving to keep our America protected.

9/11, a day to offer prayers, like every day when we think about it or see the digital clock/iPod/computer/phone display 9:11.

9/11, a day to check in on those who were most affected by this tragedy.

9/11, a day, like so many other days in many people’s lives where tragedy of this magnitude has occurred in their country and lives.

9/11, we will always remember.

9/11 is real very 364 days of the year when it is not 9/11.

As we moved on in our visit I shared that I had just made homemade chocolate chip cookies and invited him up to our apartment around 7-8 pm tonight. He delightedly said he would like to come if he could. We talked more about grilling, I shared a piece of chicken with him and he asked how I seasoned it for “this is really good and tender.” I gave him my marinade recipe freely and learned he is an avid griller who enjoys cooking shows. I learned so much about this young man.

I need to just stop and say, “Father, thank You so much for sending Miss Stella and Omar into my world so I could be Your hands, eyes, feet, light, ears, and mouth extended. Thank You for entrusting them to me today. Thank You, Holy Spirit for guiding and directing my paths. Thank You, Father, for making my paths even straighter.

Omar needed to be off and we said our farewell’s with hopes of seeing each other again someday.

Doot, dee, doo, doot, doot, dee, doo, my ‘tunes’ are back on, loud and clear to my ears, and I’m enjoying life, the grill, the sun, the beauty-everything. Along comes Mr. Brian. Mr. Brian needed a key fab to pay rent in the computer room and guess who had one. Why, of course, the person who was sent there by Father to meet him. We had a wonderful time swapping Newport News Shipyard Stories but alas, he had to leave. He showed me where he lived and I welcomed him to come visit me anytime he saw me grilling.

There you have it and that is only up to 12:30 p.m. Of course, I woke to my darling husband right next to me. I also had time with Father, Jesus & Holy Spirit during my Bible reading and journal time, which was tremendous. I cannot forget the many texts and Skype time I had with my Moon. Awesome! What in the world, is the Lord going to share with me the rest of the day? I have myself wide open, my heart exposed to Him.

A thought: what I found similar with the precious people Father sent my way today, is that they were willing to take the time to return my greeting, give me a greeting and share life with me. Those of you, who know me well, know this blessed my heart more than words can ever describe.

I wrote all of this to share a text messaging sequence between my sis, Ang, and myself it goes like this:

Me: Who knows me well enough to know this blessed by heart more than words can ever describe.

Angi: He is a pretty cool guy, that God guy!

Me: Yea, I’ll take a ‘pint’ of Him and keep ‘em comin’ bartender…

Angi: Yea, He ‘on the rocks’ me too.

Me: Umm…shaken and stirred please.

Aren’t Jesus, Father and Holy Spirit the best thing for ‘what ale’s us’?  

Eye Candy

My sister, Angela, quoted in her Facebook status on 9.10.13: “After all, you think you are so wise, but you enjoy putting up with fools. you put up with it when someone enslaves you, takes everything you have, takes advantage of you, takes control of everything, and slaps you in the face. I'm ashamed to say that we've been too 'weak' to do that,” 2 Corinthians 11: 19-21.

What do we really 'put up with'? Are we feeling weak?
In my weakness, Father, there I will find my strength in You.

                                                                                            

I love Angi’s willingness to see her weaknesses as well as how Father has, does, and will strengthen her. We read the same Bible readings daily and we often talk about what stands out to us and what Father is saying to us. This is what I received out of these particular verses as I read them:

In 2 Corinthians 2:20 in the NKJV it says, "For you put up with it if one brings you into bondage..." I was stuck on that verse and started to think, “If one can bring us into bondage, surely THE ONE can bring us out - instantly or through a process.” I also was thinking of how (1) I allowed others to bring me into bondage in my life, you know, by just being around and having all their "eye candy" around and I do not mean physical body eye candy either. Eye candies are the things that draw my focus off doing what is right. (2) I have brought others into bondage by simply living my life enjoying my eye candy. Yeeeeouwcheeewow wuh!

Here are a few examples of eye candies for me: donuts, cookies, cakes, yelling when I am angry and more. I fight against these eye candies often. When they are presented to me I have learned (still learning) I have a voice and a will to say, "NO, I will not allow them to enslave me, take what I have worked so hard for (a healthy body, mind, soul, and spirit), nor take advantage of me, take control of everything in my life or even slap me in the face. When I say NO to these 'eye candies’, I am actually taking control and slapping the candy in the face. Uh huh, take that, Jack! (No real Jack intended, of course.)

Let us stop putting up with these things...let us say NO and rise into the realm of the supernatural and out of the 'fleshly' natural.

Father, so often we have ‘put up with’ being in bondage by others and ourselves, forgive us. Today, we are taking a stand, declaring to You that we will allow Jesus through the guidance of Holy Spirit to bring us out of and into freedom. Whether this freedom happens instantaneously or through Your divine processes, we will go as you lead.