When your name becomes a security issue

Today I had to delete a comment on my blog.  That made me sad.  I enjoy hearing back from people in the comment section.  However, it's a security issue when my name is mentioned.  Sad, but true.

I am Bee, or as some young girls have called me "Momma Bee" or "Auntie Bee".  That's who I am, deep in my heart, I am a mother to young people who like to call me "mom".  It's a privilege and a blessing to be a kind of surrogate Mom to others.  My own mother was lost to me when I was 18, and then she passed away when I was 26.  She had early onset advanced Altzheimers.  She didn't speak to me normally from the time I was 16, and she didn't remember me by the time I was 18.   That really hurt.  It's hard to describe, but looking back now I can see that there are blessings mixed in with difficulty.  My heart is really tender to young people who feel alone.  Some of them have their own mothers, but the communication isn't what it should be.  Some have wonderful mothers, who have no resources.  Some have no mothers at all.

It's fun to be a mom.  Unconditional love is all that's needed.  Encouragement, wisdom, words of advice, cooking a meal, sometimes a bed to sleep on and going shopping.  It's simple.  It's a way to give life.  A way to help someone who is new to being an adult.  A way for new adults to know they are not alone.

I had a surrogate/spiritual mom too.  She was wonderful for me.  She said a lot of really wise things.  One time she said to me, "We are all alone together".

So if you want to say my name, say Bee.  If you want to be a mom to someone today, feed them and take them shopping.  Spoil them.  Let them know that they are not alone.

And don't forget the girls/women/boys in forced labor.  They need an advocate who will be "alone together" with them.

When your heart breaks, you know you're alive.

It can be anything.  A hungry child in another country.  A dog starved in a puppy mill.  A pelican covered in oil from a slick.   Some pictures on the news just grab you and you feel the wound.  Your heart breaks.  Why?  I think it's because the heart was made to know and recognize injustice.  The One who made us, made our heart and taught the heart how to do that.  Isn't God marvelous?

When your heart breaks, you know you're alive.  Suddenly, you care about something other than yourself.  You want something that doesn't give back to you.  You want to stop the injustice.  You want satisfaction.

My heart doesn't break over puppies or pelicans.   For me it's always about human beings.  Precious human beings.  Made in the image of God himself.  There is a way.  God's way.  He sees what we can't.  He knows the paths people take who hurt others.  He has assigned His children that choose to follow Him as His deputies.  I'm ready for my assignment.

I know I'm alive and I want satisfaction.

the adventure tarries....and metaphors abound

When you step out, sometimes you have to step slowly.  While other times you must go quickly, and boldly.  I'm in a place where you step, and then seek guidance about the next step....stepping carefully so you don't put your foot wrong.

Sometimes you have to stop to get new glasses.  Cause you can't see too good if the ones you have are broken.

Always, looking and watching for the path.   There is a scripture in the Bible - the old testament that talks about "mining the treasures found in the darkness."  That's what I'm after, the big diamonds that you have to dig deep for, the ones where you might end up in a tiny crawl space, scraping the dirt out with only your own hands.  That's where you find the real good stuff.  Deep.  Down.  In the mine.  In the dark.  It's a good thing that you aren't really alone there.  There is that presence to guide you.  That Holy Spirit that welcomes the adventure.

So, I say to myself and you.  Dig deep.  Don't be afraid of the dark.  But be sure you put your foot in the right place, and wear glasses.  Grab the hand of the presence of God and go.

The Adventure Begins...

No one expects....Chubby Spy.

That's right.  Totally unexpected.  Who would think that a middle aged mother of grown kids would develop a passion and reinvent herself as an advocate for people who have been Trafficked for Commercial Sex or Forced labor?  I didn't think it.

I just had an epiphany, a moment, a very long moment really, at a women's conference.  To say that I cried my eyes out for 3 days would be the truest thing I could say of that weekend.  Then, going home to my husband, I sobbed at the dinner table when I told him that I couldn't sit around waiting for grandkids when there were girls, same age as my own daughter, caught, tricked, pretending, surviving, and praying for deliverance.


Looking at me, you'd think oh yeah middle aged woman, overweight, doesn't exercise; equals NO THREAT.  I too would have assumed that, looking at myself.  Yet, there is someone who sees me different.  Someone who sees me as wise, insightful, experienced, with great networks, and willing.  Someone I like to call my best friend, the one who sticks closer than family, my Lord, my God.  HE sees me as able, cause I can do anything He strengthens me to do.

And so the journey began......