No, Not One!

Divine Appointments

           “Coincidentally,” Amy taught two classes. The first was a group for Arising Women that was scheduled to start in less than a week. The second was the Arising Authors’ class, which would begin the week after that, on February 5.

          Well, let’s say that with God, there are no coincidences. I knew I was on the right path. She would help me focus and prepare a rough draft of my book by May 15. Was that even possible? I had never done anything like this before. This felt like a lofty endeavor.

          I’ve learned that when God moves in your life and you obey, you need to “buckle up, Buttercup” and hold on tight. God operates at His own pace. This is when you truly get to count your blessings. All those God winks seem to appear out of nowhere.

          Coincidences that defy the odds. You have no choice but to feel completely humbled as you witness what God can do. He opens locked doors, breaks chains, and makes demons flee. Behold the mighty power of the Lord. Amen.

          He had been arranging everything along the way, ensuring I would be in the right place at the right time. I couldn’t have orchestrated it better myself. When I believed everything was falling apart, God was setting everything into place.

          I believed God would bless my book and my website, bringing together people from all over who otherwise wouldn’t have had a chance to meet. It would create a community of fellow Blue Cornflower lovers, and we would be a family. At this point, I still believed my original 300+ page technical manual was the book I would publish. Proof that God has a sense of humor.

          During the first session of our Arising Authors class, Amy faced the unfortunate task of telling me that she believed my book had a limited audience.

          She conveyed everything with such grace, articulating her well-considered thoughts on reaching a larger audience, that I wasn’t even offended by her lack of enthusiasm for my ideas. I realized I was thinking too small.

          I realized that had been my problem all along. God is bigger than any challenge we could ever face. I needed to stop relying on my own abilities and start relying on His. God had a different plan with a much larger goal. Meeting Amy was by divine appointment.

          She offered suggestions and encouraged me to explore deeply and truly embrace my creativity. I found her positive remarks and enthusiasm for the Lord to be infectious. Her desire for women to unite and uplift each other was inspiring. She motivated me to become a better Christian. I wanted to be part of that.

          We discussed incorporating recipes, nutritional tips, stories, and Bible verses to make my book more relatable. I was prompted to reflect on what ignites my passion. That was easy. I couldn’t comprehend how I could have strayed so far off course.

          Sadly, I truly believed I was doing the right thing. Where did I go wrong? Why couldn’t I figure it out? Were others going in the same direction? Would they have to endure all that pain too? And what about my Corningware Cornflower collection?

          In my first Arising Women class, we were asked to choose a word that God had for us in 2025. All I could come up with was “I AM = ENOUGH.” But what did that mean?

          My beloved grandmother would tell me to be careful what I wished for because I just might get it. Her loving memory lives on in me. Whenever I remember her words of wisdom, they always bring a smile to my face. I am honored to share them with you and a few others I’ve picked up along the way.

          It was a privilege and a humbling experience to participate in Amy's group and individual sessions. That first session inspired me to create a smaller, less technical book filled with heart, one containing only 10-15 pieces of Corningware that would weave together stories, Bible verses, nutritional tips, and recipes. 

          I sat down and immediately began working on the first three chapters. I started by creating a list of items, followed by my list of nutritional tips. A week later, while I was halfway through combining those lists into one file, I felt God guiding me in another direction again.

          When I received all five lessons from Amy that we would focus on over the next ten weeks in advance, I recognized another issue from my childhood. I loved researching and exploring topics of interest. Believe it or not, I enjoyed the homework. My mother would ask my teachers for extra worksheets so I would have something to do over the Summer.

          Trust me, if you want to make enemies with your classmates every year, have the teacher assign a lengthy 2-week project, and you walk in Monday morning not only with it completed, but with diagrams and possibly a mobile. I truly had no life. I had one close friend, and when she found a group of friends and moved on, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I found it hard to get close to others again.

          I didn’t want to replace her. I didn’t want anyone else. I just wanted her to stay. I felt as though I had done something wrong. Those feelings became the bait that would attract a life full of narcissists. That was when I developed my inability to let go, no matter how bad it became. I needed approval.

          Combining all those negative emotions led me down a dark path, slowing my progress, changing my identity. Occasionally, I would turn homework in late on purpose thinking others would see I was just like them. 

          I stifled myself, and because of that, I will never know what I could have become. The baby elephant had the chain put on him. He didn’t have a choice, but I reached down and shackled myself. Oh, if I could go back!

          By providing me with two months of work all at once, Amy unknowingly ignited my passion for being a Librarian and Researcher again. It had been so long since I could complete a project of my own without strict parameters. I was so focused; it only took me two days to complete all five lessons from my Arising Author class.

          I dug deep as I answered each question. I was brutally honest. I was in complete submission. I laughed. I cried. It was exhausting and eye-opening. After it was over, all I could think of was my progress. I worked through it. I figured it out. Facing my past painful experiences allowed me to see the forest made up of trees.

          Now that I could see the big picture, I was so grateful. I dropped to my knees and prayed that I could help others to heal too.

          That night, I awoke at 3:00 AM, unable to sleep again. I was wide awake, so I figured I might as well start typing. I didn’t want to force a book that wasn’t meant to be. Now, with my focus on God rather than myself, I saw my book laid out before me. It was incredibly humbling. It wasn’t like anything I had planned.

          This time I couldn’t stop. Whenever I tried to take a break, I returned to the laptop. As I moved through each chapter, I recognized how God had been working in my life through the jobs I’d held and the people I’d encountered along the way. He never wavered in His support for me. I had no idea how each position equipped me with essential skills I would need. Every person I met imparted something unique and valuable.

          I couldn’t see it before because God hadn’t revealed it yet. The timing wasn’t right until that moment. Perspective certainly alters perception. I can’t even begin to count how many specific things fell into place to make this book, website, and thrift store possible. God’s timing is always perfect.

          After my usual dinnertime, I finally came up for air when my stomach started complaining that it needed a break more than I did.

          Writing in that manner continued day after day. Sleep felt like a waste of precious time, seemingly unnecessary. I needed to express this. I had to get it out. About a week later, my rough draft began taking shape on paper.

          Engaging in anything for God involves fighting many battles. I would have to begin by conquering my fears and failures. My self-esteem was far from where it should be. Mentally, I had been defeated and broken numerous times before. I had made several changes recently, but those choices upset everyone and everything around me even more. Resisting the devil is exhausting.

          I was still being broken far too often to heal from the recent mental traumas. My fibromyalgia only exacerbated the pain that throbbed in my neck and back until I could undergo my upcoming surgeries. My body and mind required pain medications all day and night. The muscle cramps in my legs caused me to jump out of bed numerous times each night. My body weight had dropped below one hundred pounds. I felt weakened in every possible way.

          I believe it was that weakness, that feeling of being shattered in every way possible, that allowed me to hear God calling out that everything would be okay. Finally, I was ready to be used. I had a revelation: God Uses the Broken. What?

          Perhaps this made it easier for me to accept that the only way this book would come to fruition was with God guiding me every step of the way. In my mind, I had been rehearsing the most eloquent prayer ever, asking for the ability to complete the book that would ultimately be about my submission journey.

          I recognized the need to pray for the words God intended for me to use rather than my own. I knew I had to be very careful not to distort anything in any way. Shutting out the world around me, I prepared to give my most eloquent request ever. What came out was one of the shortest prayers I have ever given: Here I am, Lord.

          With no other words to express, my heart cried out as tears streamed down my face. Those tears flowed continuously as I typed revelation after revelation. We all tend to portray ourselves as more or less than we truly are, depending on our self-esteem. This project needed to benefit the Kingdom. I was merely the instrument God would use to spread His Word. God desired His children to bring the broken home through Revival. We were once lost, so we could show others the way.

          Someone guided you to Jesus. If it was your parents and you were young, Sunday School was your blessing. Children spend over twelve years studying the world compared to a small fraction of time studying the Word. Do you even know how many books you were required to read in school?

          Yet God provided only one book of instructions for life, the Bible. He laid it all out so we wouldn’t be led astray. Ironically, many people never read it from cover to cover. They only turn to it after getting into trouble, looking for a way out. This book was provided to try to prevent you from getting into that trouble in the first place. Trouble arises when you place God anywhere but first in all you say and do. Having the Word of God instilled in you early is vital for survival.

          The devil and his demons have deceived people due to their constant attacks. The broken believe this is a sign that God has forgotten them, that He no longer performs miracles, and that Heaven may not be real. Blasphemy! You must drive these demonic thoughts from your mind, never to return. The devil and all of his demons know God and Heaven are real because they lived there.

          Lucifer used to be the life of the party. Everything was grand in Heaven while the music played and everyone was having fun. But there always has to be that one person. They take things too far, saying or doing something stupid, and the music stops. Before you know it, a brawl breaks out, and the party is over for everyone. Why can’t enough ever be enough for some people? People need to learn how to control their emotions and stop constantly lashing out at each other.

          This was what allowed me to continue writing with passion. As I began to put my thoughts on paper, I knew I would have to put on the armor of God. I had lived in the world and loved the world in every unhealthy way possible. Now I would have to try to do it God’s way. Loving God’s way is extremely challenging. I’m really trying, yet I still find myself failing constantly.

          My hope was to bridge the generational divide within families. I aimed to bring people closer together and provide resources for parents on topics that would assist them in raising their children in a Godly way. I certainly could have benefited from that kind of support when I was raising my son.

          God revealed to me how to win this battle. Only seven words: love, love, love, love, love, love, and love. One word for each day of the week. Quite easy to remember. God loved me; if I loved God, then I could love anyone. In effect, I was loving God when I expressed my love for others. And how do you show your love? You give of yourself. You sacrifice some of your greatest gifts: the gifts of your time, talent, and tithe.

          You show others you love them by expressing your feelings through words and actions. Praying for God’s Will to be done in peoples’ lives is one of the finest ways to express that love. Love is the only force that can break down hate. It’s what Jesus demonstrated. Remember, the only way to love those who hate you is by loving them because you love Him.

          As I was typing my rough draft, I kept hearing this still small voice; Use the Corningware. That phrase kept repeating in my mind. That would be a stretch. How could I use a retro item from the 1960s to evoke that childhood feeling—memories from an era long gone—to a whole new generation that has never experienced what we did? How could I use that to bridge the generational divide? And how could that help bring the broken together as a community? Once again, every question that was answered brought many more.

          In the past century, people seem to be playing some form of the retro telephone game. They stand in their family line and pass traditions from grandparent to parent to child. Each time, a little bit gets lost in translation. From generation to generation, it becomes harder and harder to “speak the same language.” Communication is a lost art. Face-to-face contact changed this last generation with COVID in the unhealthiest way.

          If family meals around the dinner table were possible again, that would be priceless. The Corningware pieces wouldn’t cost much or be hard to find. There always seemed to be plenty available at flea markets, thrift stores, and yard sales. They would be affordably priced and durable. It was a good investment, as was the time spent together collecting them.

          Looks like it was time for a good old-fashioned field trip. Back in the 60s, 70s, and early 80s, those two words, when combined, brought pure joy to the hearts of every school-aged child in America. Field trips usually meant getting a day off. No classwork or homework.

          Away from school grounds, during a class trip, individuals from different cliques could interact in ways that might never occur otherwise. You might find yourself with a jock, a nerd, a band member, or a smoker. Without the labels and social pressures, you reverted to your true self without even realizing it.

          This experience fostered the idea of building friendships. I’m referring to the days when most children played outside until the streetlights turned on. Then everyone went home to eat, do homework, and so on. It was a time when you knew your neighbors because everyone gathered on their porches at night. You were expected to be cordial and friendly. Parents anticipated that you would inform them if their child was misbehaving. This was appreciated. Back then, keeping your child on the straight and narrow was more important than saving face.

          Those memories of my grandmother humming and singing in the kitchen bring me back. The aromas of delicious foods that only she could make perfectly, with a pinch of this and a dab of that, ignite my senses. The anticipation of being the one who got to lick the spoon… heart, be still. Pure joy!

         Good times. Simple times spent using uncomplicated ingredients, before we obsessed over the Joneses, before wants turned into needs, and before our insatiable desire for more, more, more meant we would spend less time together.

          Anyone could start a collection of their own. It wouldn’t need to be as extensive as mine. But what if they could enjoy it just as much as I did? What if they could experience those enchanting memories that drove my senses wild?

          Could people have as much fun reading this book as I did writing it? My theme focused on returning to the basics: back to the Bible, back to the communion table and repentance, back to simpler times, and back to the truth.

          What if I turned this into a series of scavenger hunts where families could participate without needing to take out a small loan? What if they could collect memories instead of things? Being in the kitchen, creating delicious meals for the people you love alongside those you cherish. Handcrafting aprons and potholders. It’s truly inspiring. Love always enhances the taste of food.

          I’m brewing a pot of tea. Please pull up a chair and make yourself comfortable. Get your cup ready and let me share what I’ve learned along the way. This is what God has revealed to me. I pray it blesses you as much as it has blessed me.