Once upon a time, a very long time ago, in the name of ‘Christianity’, my then husband deserted my three kids and myself in a van on the side of the road. Thankfully, it was Southern California and not Minnesota.

We were homeless for about 5-6 months. We couldn’t get financial help because we didn’t have an address and we couldn’t get an address without financial help. It was a mess.

We bathed in parks. Ate things most normal Americans would turn their noses at and lived inside our ‘cozy’ van.

The churches were mostly useless. One church thinking it was doing us a big religious favor gave us a bag of food. Inside was a super sized bag of spaghetti noodles along with the extra large size of Ragu sauce. There were other items like this that were of no value to a homeless person.

How did they intend for me to not just cook the spaghetti but to store it afterwards since everything they gave me was in bulk and I obviously did not have a refrigerator? It was truly sad.

At first, I spend a good portion of my days crying. I was crying more for my kids. I was crying out to God to see our needs. And he did. He just didn’t exactly view them like I did… with a finite mind.

In time I grew to enjoy the solitude that living on the streets provided. I didn’t have rent or bills or collectors. I wasn’t boggled down with the everyday minute things that we as humans tend to blow out of proportion. My most important decisions were to keep the kids safe, find a park or somewhere for the kids to have some fun, find food, and find somewhere safe to park at night.

Those seem like huge things to accomplish but folks do most of that everyday anyhow but just within the confines of their stationary dwelling. This is obviously done in a different manner and it is attached with all sorts of extra curricular necessities that become ‘needs’. To the homeless all these extra-fluff things become obsolete and unnecessary to maintain daily.

Even in the midst of all that we went through during that season, I have to admit I had the greatest amount of peace that I have ever possessed in my life. God was more than super-naturally good. He provided as he saw fit. It stretched me. I saw life from outside my comfortable house and got to be one of ‘them’. I learned the heartaches and the pressures that street folks deal with. I also learned that too many homeless folks do not want the help to come in from out of the cold because of all the strings attached to it.

In the midst of it all, I knew that I knew that God was right there and that he had a plan. I knew that he was in control and that even if I got mad at him, screamed, and cried, ultimately he knew my heart only wanted what his wanted and I would wait in his timing to deliver me. And he did… very graciously.

I recently read a blog about blessing one’s enemy. I have had that idea come past me many, many times in my life. In my religious Charismaniac mind, I would want to ask God to bless them profusely, abundantly, financially and meet all their needs. (Wow! Aint I special to be able to pray that for my enemies?!)

Since trying to ditch my ‘religiosity’, I am now struck with a thought and pervading question of ‘why I would pray such things?’ Why would I pray financial prosperity on my enemy? I do not stop and question this to be vindictive but out of Christ’s love within me.

I ponder if financial prosperity would lead them to Christ. (But woe unto you that are rich! for ye have received your consolation Luke 6:24). Would it bring them to the cross? Would it benefit them for eternity? Not so much. The financial security would be a curse and not a blessing if it lead them away from the cross.

So what would be the absolute best I could give my enemies? That God’s will be done in their life; that situations would happen, good or bad, to bring them to their knees at the cross.

The cross is the absolute best I could give my enemies. Therefore, I would pray that if God needs to break them to ‘bless’ them, so be it.

If by some strange miracle they could come to the cross by way of riches… then I pray God would bless them financially and prosper them mightily.

My husband and I are in a place where one of our daughters husband left her and the kids with nothing. Another daughter just lost her job. We are in a place where we as parents have to help them get to the next place in their journey through life but be able to do it without enabling them.

We spent the week helping the unemployed daughter get her resume all polished and posted on the internet. She went on one interview already and has two set up for Tuesday. She has taken an online test to assess her computer skills. We have looked at all her bills to see what needs to be paid versus what to hold off on until the money is coming in again.

We are leading her with our knowledge yet letting her take the responsibility to forge ahead. She is doing great. It is a daunting task when one is suddenly unemployed.

I think of a man I contacted a while ago that said God never answered any of his prayers. I think of God being so very patient with us when we are in rough spots in our lives. He cannot just do it all for us. He can lead us in better directions but we need to take the initiative to forge ahead and handle the task at hand.

Yes, we may get tired and there usually is relief for a time but then we have to continue on. And God is there every step of the way. Like a shepherd to his sheep. Gently prodding and moving them to greener pastures. There are days when there is no green grass in sight but the shepherd in his wisdom keeps prodding knowing that if they keep moving forward they will eventually come upon the flourishing spots.

I pray that I will have the strength to keep moving forward. To know when to rest for a time and let God be God. To know the difference between God’s wisdom and mine. To know that he may not answer every prayer in my time or in my way but that he would show me the insufficiencies of my prayer, the selfish requests and give me the ability to pray his will be done at all cost.

I was cleaning the baseboards this morning. Why? Some say because I am a clean freak. No. I was on the floor playing ball with the dog and noticed how dirty they were and... I am just not a dirty freak. It took all of 3 minutes to clean the baseboards where I was and down the hallway to the bathroom. No biggie. I can move on and do whatever else was planned for the day.

I always try to see how things figure into the Christian version. Can I now say I am a Jesus freak because I am NOT a Satan freak? No. I am a Jesus freak because of who Jesus is in my life, because of what he has done for me personally; for all he has secured for me and delivered me from. I wouldn’t necessarily call it a ‘freak’ either. I love my husband but I am not a freak for him.

I am very appreciative of all that Jesus has offered me. I am grateful for the fact that he does what he says he will do. Do I misinterpret what those things might be? Absolutely.

In further thinking about the word freak, I realized that I am a freak about something. Truth. I cherish ‘truth’ above all else.

Jesus said unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me. ~John 14:6

Every time I see the blog title ‘Humbled Heart’ I read ‘mumbled heart’. Maybe God is trying to speak to me. Maybe my heart is more mumbled than humbled. What a thought!

What is mumbled? The synonyms would be inarticulate, garbled, incoherent, unintelligible and incomprehensible. Wow. The definition says to speak or utter something quietly and unclearly without opening the mouth very much or an indistinct and quiet utterance.

I wonder if my heart is unclear and unintelligible. Does God hear my heart even when it doesn’t ‘speak’ clearly? Do I have to make him work extra hard to define what I am really meaning? Have I taught myself to think my heart is more humbled than mumbled? Have I convinced myself how to be humble?

Wow. A mumbled heart, eh? That is something to ponder.