Is it completely hopeless? Is it?

So, it's been eighteen years and this is still my favorite Blue Monarch Christmas story.  If you haven't heard it before, perhaps it will bless you this Christmas season.  Sometimes we need a little reminder that prayer actually is powerful.  No, really.

*****

My journey with Blue Monarch has been filled with wonderful memories as well as some painful bumps along the way.  When God asked me to take this on, I had no idea what I was getting into.  And when I think back, my expectations were so remarkably low.  I just had NO idea…
This couldn’t have been clearer to me than when I witnessed the birth of our first Blue Monarch baby.  

It was 2003 and our program was brand new.  As an artist with no social work background, I was just figuring things out as we went along.  One of our first residents showed up pregnant.  She hid it well because we didn’t know she was pregnant until her water broke, which was quite a surprise. 

Chrystal was way too early to be going into labor, so she was rushed to the hospital for thirty days of bed rest.  During this time, I frequently traveled to Chattanooga to visit her, bringing lots of reading material and trying to structure some kind of productive program for her under the circumstances. 

One thing I noticed was that this young mother was beginning to develop a personal relationship with God – which seemed pretty remarkable considering she was alone in her room much of the time, confined to the bed with very little to keep her busy.

Short of the thirty days, she called me one day and said, “Miss Susan, you’ve got to get here.  I have to have an emergency c-section!”  (It has always seemed sad to me when I’m the one in the delivery room instead of a special family member.  Little did I know, I would repeat this role a number of times in the years to come.) 

So, I got suited up for the c-section, completely shocked they allowed ordinary people off the streets to witness this dramatic surgery.  But when the doctor lifted her baby out, I was horrified because he looked like a little dead bird.  He was black from the knees down and looked completely lifeless.  Fortunately, the mother was not able to see what I saw on the other side of the curtain.  They immediately whisked him away and we returned to Chrystal's room to wait for news.  We waited…and waited…and waited.  Three painful hours went by and not one person could tell us anything about the baby.  Things didn’t look good.

Finally, the doctor entered the room and said, “We’ve tried everything to save your baby but we’re not going to be able to.  So, if you want to see him alive, you only have a few minutes left.”  I was taken aback by the doctor’s bedside manner in such a traumatic moment and immediately assumed he must be numb from seeing this scene so often.  

As you can imagine, our world turned upside down in a split second.  Chrystal was extremely upset, and the entire NICU cleared out so we could visit her baby in his last moments in privacy.  This time he looked like a dead bird in a box hooked up to a million wires.  He was pitiful and tiny and lifeless.  Chrystal demanded to know why the God she had just met would let something like this happen.  Honestly, I was asking myself the same thing. 

The doctor pointed to a gauge overhead and said, “You see this number?  This measures his blood oxygen level and should be over 90.  But as you can see, it’s only 20.”  

After an understandable emotional breakdown, Chrystal decided to go back to her room because she didn’t want to watch him die.  But it didn’t seem right to leave him alone, so I stayed with her baby.  Christmas carols were quietly playing in the background with Christmas only a few days away, which only made this moment even more surreal. What in the world was happening?  I thought I was going to help women get jobs and I was about to watch a baby die. I was angry with God in that moment and felt he had not been up front with me about the assignment I had been given.  “This was not in the brochure!” 

I watched the dreaded number continue to drop from 20…to 16…and then all the way down to 11… In other words, it was completely hopeless. 

All of a sudden it occurred to me that we needed to be praying for this baby!  So, I got on the phone, called my daughter in the middle of the night, and asked her to call all her friends and start praying for this baby.

Even though I had grown up in the church, I had heard about “the power of prayer” until it no longer meant anything to me.  I couldn’t imagine how it could possibly make a difference at this point, but it seemed like the thing to do, so I sat there next to the baby and prayed.  I prayed hard, but I will admit, my faith was not even the size of a mustard seed.  

Afraid of what I might see, I eventually peeked at the gauge and much to my surprise, the number had begun to rise.  It was back up to 20.  Wow!  Maybe it moves around?  I kept watching as that number gradually climbed all the way to up to over 90 again!  It was unbelievable!

The nurses ran over to me and couldn’t believe what they saw.  They quickly fetched the doctor and when he rushed over, he looked at me and demanded, “What did you do?!” 

“I really don’t know.  We just have a lot of folks praying for this baby.”

“Well, that’s one helluva prayer team you people have!  I’ve never seen anything like this!”

Chrystal eventually named the baby, Trenton, but around the hospital he immediately became "The Christmas Miracle Baby".

I remember sitting there just soaking in the miracle that had just happened.  It was overwhelming and there are no words to truly describe how supernatural it felt.  Then it suddenly hit me - even if we never accomplished another thing at Blue Monarch, it would always be worth it because of this very moment.  Anything after that day was going to be icing on the cake!

As I drove away from the hospital later that day, I suddenly realized - Blue Monarch wasn’t about getting women jobs.  We were in the business of saving lives.  What I didn't know yet, was that there would be lots and lots of Blue Monarch miracles.  This was just the first.  

*****

Through the years, as I have told this story many times, the first question has always been, "How is the Christmas Miracle Baby doing today?"  Well, take a look.  I would say he's doing great!  Yep, prayer is powerful, indeed, even when things look completely hopeless.  May we never, ever forget that.

Can I please wake up as a bird?

There have been times when I have gone through an emotional rough patch and have prayed that I could please wake up as a bird.  Was that too much to ask?  I just wanted to quietly soar in the clouds with no problems in sight.  In fact, this is the first item on my list of things to do when I get to heaven one day.  
 
I love the sky so much, I have flown in almost every contraption there is: ultralight airplane, seaplane, glider, parasail, 1940’s open cockpit airplane, and an almost 2-mile zipline at over 11,000 feet elevation, which isn’t a plane but went so fast it felt like flying.  I am fascinated by clouds, and this has been my screensaver for years.  This photo is from my window seat on the way to visit some nice donors in Texas one year.  
 

Several years ago, Clay and I stopped to watch some skydivers near our home because it was something I had always wanted to do.  As I stood and gazed at the jumpers, a young woman asked, “are you thinking about jumping?”  Was she talking to me?  I looked around because I was surprised that she could actually see me.  I was keenly aware that I had become strangely invisible to some individuals her age.
 
"Well, to tell you the truth, I have always wanted to skydive," I told her.  "So, I wanted to watch for a while to see if I could do it."
 
And here it came.  The girl leaned closer to me, as if I couldn’t hear, cocked her head in a way that she probably thought was endearing, and in her best baby voice, said, “Well, it’s never too late...”  I think she even patted me on the shoulder.  
 
I looked at Clay and said, “never too late?  What did she mean by that?” And then it hit me what she meant.  Oh, my word.  I was steaming, and if I had been wearing different shoes, I think I would have marched into the hangar right that moment and signed up.
 
Honestly, getting older has been a little clunky.  I never believed it would happen to me, although I'm not sure how I thought I would avoid it.  I have reluctantly had to make some rules for myself such as, no fringe, (okay, well maybe less fringe), no dancing in my car, and no more clothes from stores that include “twenty-one" in the name.  It’s been a difficult transition because in my head, I’m still thirty-five and skinny. 
 
As I stood there a little wounded, processing what had just happened, I listened while the young woman chatted with her boyfriend.  He was concerned they might not get their turn before it was too dark.  That’s when she pointed to the sky and said, “but it won’t matter if it gets dark down here - because it’s always lighter up there!”  
 
Okay, that made her comment sting a little less.  Obviously, she was an idiot.  
 
It did cause me to ask myself, why was I not skydiving when it was such a dream of mine?  I finally realized it was something Clay always said to me whenever I entertained the idea.  “Susan, have you thought about what would happen to Blue Monarch if something happened to you?”  Suddenly the whole idea looked very irresponsible, because honestly, I wasn’t sure how to answer that question.  
 
Well, a few weeks ago I looked around me and realized this was no longer a concern.  We have the most amazing, gifted team we have ever had, each staff member a rock star in her own right.  Blue Monarch has never been in better hands, which makes my job more exciting than ever before.  My dream could finally come true.  (You know you’re confident in your staff if you’re willing to jump out of a plane.)  
 

So recently, I had the enormous privilege of skydiving with Lauren, our former Blue Monarch graduate and current staff member who has just gotten her license as a pilot!  I remember walking through the kitchen right before one of my work ethics classes a few years ago, and Lauren saying with great distress, “Miss Susan, I just don’t know what I want to do with my life...”  This class is where we identify a career path right before graduation, which can be daunting with past criminal history and unexplainable gaps in employment.  Honestly, I was a little concerned that Lauren might fall back into addiction if we didn’t find something to keep her excited and motivated.  That’s when it hit me.  Just a few days before was when I stood on the sidelines watching the skydivers with the young lady who made the stupid comments.  “Lauren, what about the field of aviation?”  
 
She immediately latched onto that idea, which quickly led to a Blue Monarch miracle of sorts.  I invited Jim, a pilot friend and donor, to meet with her to discuss all aspects of aviation.  It was in that meeting Lauren decided to become a pilot and Jim amazingly offered to help her get her license and loan her his own plane to do it.  Jim even had a friend by the name of "Grumpy," with 32 years in the Air Force under his belt and an endless list of awards, who agreed to be her instructor.  It was unbelievable.
 
This path has been anything but easy.  Lauren has stretched herself beyond limits she even knew she had, and she has jumped through a million hoops to prove to the FAA that she is no longer an addict and can handle the responsibility and pressure of flying.  No doubt, many weaker individuals would have quickly folded.  
 
It has been one of the hardest journeys I have ever witnessed, but Lauren has persevered through many tears, endless study, countless surprise drug tests, ridiculous delays, multiple medical evaluations, and lots of sleepless nights.  However, every single time she has flown solo, she has praised the Lord and worshipped across the sky, giving him all the glory.  

One of the greatest thrills of my life has been to see Lauren fly over the Blue Monarch campus.  It makes my heart skip a beat every single time and it’s so fun to see all the women and children run outside to cheer her on.  Sam, our dog, goes nuts because he thinks he owns even the airspace over our property. Every one of those women walk back into the house believing in themselves a little more and I’m convinced even the children begin to dream bigger in that moment.  The impact is tangible and shows on their faces.
 
So, a few weeks ago I got to jump out of a plane at 14,000 feet, dropping at 120 miles per hour, with someone whose incredible journey I have watched from a front row seat, which felt very symbolic.  It was truly a dream come true and an intense thrill that I have relived in my head a hundred times. 
 
I didn’t think anything could compare to that thrill, but yesterday did.  Lauren finally got her pilot’s license after nearly a three-year struggle and yesterday I was honored to be her very first passenger.  It was almost an out-of-body experience as the two of us flew over the Blue Monarch property and I was able to see the women and children run outside and wave at us - from Lauren’s perspective this time.   
 
Lauren’s story will be a Blue Monarch legend.  I see every day the impact her determination has on the women of Blue Monarch - it gives them hope and teaches them to not give up, that their hard work and perseverance will eventually pay off!  They absorb it and take it to heart.
 

As I watched Lauren so confidently maneuver the plane, manage all the many instruments and gears, communicate by radio in a cryptic language only pilots understand, and gaze across the sky as if she owned it, I couldn’t help but think back on the woman who sat in my office and wept with overwhelming brokenness, and absolutely no hope, just a few years ago.  My word, look at her now.  She is not just a fighter.  She is a warrior inspiring other warriors just like her.     
 
I realize now, the young woman I met at the airstrip that day was no idiot after all.  It IS never too late.  And it truly IS lighter up there - even if it’s dark down here.  Maybe it’s because the magnificent sky feels just inches away from heaven.  In fact, I think if we had thought about it sooner, Lauren and I could have touched the face of God while we were there.  We’ll have to remember to do that next time...
 
Lord, thank you for a place where women and children can dream big, believe deeply, and achieve intensely.  And thank you for my front row seat for which I am so grateful.  Amen 

"I'm holding the key and I'm not afraid to use it."

It was in the beginning years when I wore nearly every hat, and I was desperate for help.  There were a number of nights when I jumped out of bed at 2:00 in the morning and rushed down to Blue Monarch because someone had activated a panic button.  Or even worse, the silent hold-up alarm, which would get pushed over and over - you guessed it, because it was silent.  The alarm company had no details, so my mind would imagine all kinds of disasters on my 45-minute drive, which felt like an eternity.  Nearly every time, there was no true emergency, but for lack of a better system, and lack of adequate staff, I had no choice but to check it out myself just in case.  After a rash of these incidents and lots of lost sleep, a missionary couple approached me about a live-in position and from their resumes, they looked ideal, an answered prayer.  
 
When they walked in for the interview, I immediately noticed the man’s silver belt buckle, which formed an ornate butterfly.  My immediate, knee-jerk reaction was to say under my breath, “well, that’s rather clever, Satan.”  I knew in my heart this was just a trick to mislead me, so what did I do?  I hired them.  It was crazy.  Everyone else saw the belt buckle as “a sign” from God but because I was so desperate for help, I ignored my gut, listened to others, and hired the couple anyway.  
 
Well, you can guess the outcome.  It was a disaster and the man with the butterfly belt buckle ended up in jail, for fraud committed elsewhere, about a year after I fired him.   
 
When I look back at the lowest points in my Blue Monarch journey, I cannot deny the obvious.  There is definitely a theme that ties those experiences together.  Every single time we suffered as an organization, or I suffered as a leader, it was because I let down my guard and failed as the gatekeeper. Being in a state of desperation and exhaustion only causes us to ignore the “warning, warning!” in our ear, and it is the absolute worst time to make a major decision.  
 
When other similar ministries visit with us to pick our brains, I always warn the leader, “you’re most important job is to be the gatekeeper.”  I then proceed to give examples of all the times I allowed the wrong people to come through the door, which caused negativity, division, and even chaos.  Oddly enough, these things never came from the population we served.  It was always those who had been given positions of authority.  And many times, it was because I settled for less, believing I could not find better.  In other words, I did not have the patience to wait on God for the right people. 
 
I have discovered the role as gatekeeper extends way beyond just finding the best board members or hiring the most appropriate individuals.  It has also become very clear to me that we are just as responsible for guarding the minds and hearts of the vulnerable women and children we serve.  We have a duty to protect them.  They trust us with their lives.
 
Let me tell you about one example - and I will give you heads up.  It ventures into an area that is a little supernatural and may include information you will wish you could unhear.
 
Our policies are constantly evolving, and the list gets longer and longer - every single rule is the result of a bad experience.  For instance, there was a day when I pulled up at Blue Monarch and found all the women and children on the roof.  Turns out, “it was such a great place to think.”  Who knew?  Well, there’s a new rule.  #32:  no climbing out on the roof.  
 
But one day, many years ago, I discovered we needed another rule regarding books and movies.  Apparently, this was an area we had overlooked and as a result, there were hundreds of inappropriate books and very scary, disturbing, X-rated, and even un-rated movies that had somehow found their way into our houses.  I realize at this point I am running the risk of sounding like a prude, but none of what we found was something our children needed to be exposed to, and they didn’t offer anything positive for the women either.  In fact, our residents admitted the books and movies immediately took them back to another place and time - the very ones they came to Blue Monarch to escape.
 
I was especially disturbed to learn that a specific woman (we will call her Kellie) had been allowed to collect numerous books about real-life serial killers.  Apparently, a staff member, who no longer works with us, had allowed her to do so because she thought it was therapeutic to encourage something this woman found “stimulating.”  Well, I thought this was outrageous.  
 
Kellie suffered from severe PTSD.  As a young child she witnessed the sacrifice of another child, her same age, during a satanic ritual.  Can you imagine?  (I will spare you any more details.)  The trauma from that was overwhelming, was forever burned into her memory, and it would take nothing less than God’s tremendous power of healing to overcome such a horrific experience.  How were we helping her by filling her mind with dark, detailed, disturbing stories about murderers?  What in the world?  (The family member who exposed her to this atrocity had already died, so I was denied the pleasure of pursuing criminal charges.)

The women and children we serve show up having suffered all kinds of unthinkable traumas and tragedies.  Their minds are filled with severe hurt, ugly memories, fear, and anger, almost as if their thoughts are muddy.  But we want their thoughts and feelings to become crystal clear, filled with as much joy and hope as we can possibly muster up.  Remarkably, this is a gradual process that we can tangibly see on their faces when they replace the mud with good and positive thoughts instead.  The women actually become more beautiful.  Ask anyone working at Blue Monarch, and they will agree.  But there's more. Even their children begin to come alive in a way that is truly incredible.  

That's what I wanted for Kellie, but we let her down by allowing even more darkness and fear to fill her head with grotesque stories to dwell on and dream about - didn’t she have enough of that already?  So, after apologizing to this young woman, we did a complete overhaul of all the books and movies on the property.  Sadly, our confiscated bounty filled an enormous box.  I put the box in the trunk of my car and planned to burn it all when I got home. 
 
My husband, Clay, made a good point, though.  It would make a sticky mess with all the plastic, so I agreed to find a convenience center on my way to a meeting in Nashville the following day.
 
Well, I attempted four different convenience centers along my route, and all were closed.  Therefore, I still had the disgusting books and movies in my car when I stopped at a congested, very large intersection in Nashville.  This is where it gets a little weird.
 
As I was sitting still at the red light, I suddenly noticed up in the sky, an enormous, larger-than-life-sized, solid black bird, making a nosedive straight toward my windshield like a speeding torpedo.  It looked about the size of a large pelican and was some kind of bird I had never seen before.  Out of instinct I ducked, just in time to see the strange creature violently bust a hole in my windshield with its beak and bounce off out of sight.  I tried to see where it landed but couldn’t find it.
 
I looked around at all the other drivers, assuming they would be just as shocked as I was, and even imagined we would collectively just sit through the next light to process it all.  I expected some nice man to jump out of his car and come running to my rescue asking, “are you okay?”  But much to my surprise, everyone seemed strangely unaware as if the entire experience was only visible to me.  How in the world could they have missed what just happened?
 
My windshield was shattered and had a hole about the size of a golf ball.  I immediately thought about the contraband I was carrying in the trunk of my car, pulled over at the first place I found, and with an apology under my breath, discreetly dumped the box in a dumpster behind a liquor store. 
 
I don’t think we can ever underestimate the risk we take when we open that gate and allow harmful, destructive people or influences to enter in.  I rebelled kind of late and was in my thirties when I made some of the worst choices in my life.  I was shocked that lightning didn’t strike when I did things that I knew I shouldn’t and let people into my life I knew were not good.  Honestly, I remember feeling like I had been gypped because I could have been a rule breaker my whole life if I had known nothing would happen.  But the truth is, lightning doesn’t always strike with an immediate bang.  Sometimes it comes in little bits and pieces, and even rears its ugly head years later.  
 
We must put more value on the gate that we guard for ourselves and for others.  In many ways, it is a barrier between life and death, between happiness and torment, or peace and fear.  So, when someone or something knocks at that gate, perhaps with great discernment and prayer, our question needs to be, “do you bring light - or do you bring darkness?”  It’s really that easy.  And we shouldn’t be afraid to use the key.
 
For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord.  Live as children of light (for the fruit of the light consists in all goodness, righteousness and truth) and find out what pleases the Lord.  Have nothing to do with the fruitless deeds of darkness, but rather expose them.  Ephesians 5:8-11

We can’t scream “FIRE” any louder.

I woke up gasping as if I was trying to breathe through a thick rag.  My lungs felt strangely cold in my chest.  Each inhale took in less and less air, creating an ugly, uncontrollable croaking sound.  

 

My muscles were weak, and the beat of my heart was unusually fast, but I pulled myself to the edge of the sleeping compartment of my horse trailer and slid to the metal floor.  I struggled to remain conscious as I crawled to the door in the dark.  I could barely reach for the latch and as soon as the door flew open, I spilled onto the damp grass.  My voice was only a whisper so calling for help was not an option.

 

It was as puzzling as it was frightening.  What in the world was happening?  All I knew was that I needed to remain calm so I could make the most of each shallow breath.  I was relieved to breathe in fresh, outside air, which had never smelled so pure.  

 

As I lay on the ground in the dark, it struck me that this incident had crossed over into a category that was so serious, it no longer mattered that people might find me in my “not for company” pajamas with no makeup.  Sort of how folks appear on TV when their house is on fire in the middle of the night.  They never seem to care how they look or how they are dressed.  The other campers at the trail ride were asleep in their own horse trailers, totally unaware of what was happening just a few yards away, which made the whole thing even more surreal.  

 

Slowly but surely, my breathing got stronger and deeper.  My lungs felt sore and were still cold as ice. (For  weeks after, the slightest effort got me completely out of breath.)

 

When I crawled back inside the horse trailer, it didn’t take long to find the smoking gun - a portable propane heater I had purchased to fight the 40-degree temperature.  The directions clearly stated it required lots of fresh air and ventilation, but I figured the natural gaps in the metal walls provided all that was necessary, so I saw no need to crack a window.  Even though the instructions clearly stated this was not enough, I was convinced I knew better than the manufacturer who made it.  

 

As a result of my stubbornness and overconfidence, I could have died from carbon monoxide poisoning.  All because I did not respect or follow the simple directions. 

 

We occasionally see this same stubbornness and overconfidence at Blue Monarch.  Despite all the warnings on the label, someone occasionally wants to leave and do it her way, even though it has never worked in the past.  And no matter how many times we try, we can never scream “FIRE” loudly enough.  It is difficult seeing someone we care about, step right in front of oncoming traffic despite all the warnings.  “Watch out!  Look where you’re going.  I promise you will regret this.”  

 

There is a common term that sounds a bit Christianese but there is great truth in it.  “Living in and out of the will of God.”

 

One thing that continues to amaze me, is how God so beautifully blesses the women of Blue Monarch when they surrender to him and walk in his will.  Honestly, it still shocks me even though I have been watching this play out since 2003.  For instance, there was a woman one year who had an extremely difficult custody case in East Tennessee that seemed to drag on for months.  Her situation looked impossible.  This mother suffered every day - not knowing if her son was okay, not being able to see him, having no way to communicate with him because the child’s father refused to answer the phone.  It was impossible to serve papers on the dad to appear in court because his buddies at the sheriff’s department somehow never found him at home.  

 

But through her pain, this mother eventually turned to God, dug into her Bible, prayed her little heart out, cried a million tears, and lifted her wounded heart and child to Jesus.  Soon after that, we discovered we had a very random, unexpected connection with a wildlife officer way over in East Tennessee who was able to find the father right away because he was a hunter.  Within just a few short weeks she was reunited with her child. On this boy’s first night at Blue Monarch, he and his mother had a picnic supper in the front yard.  I still remember backing out of the parking lot just in time to see the two of them on a quilt in the grass, laughing and playing - something they had not been able to do in eighteen months.

 

Amazing blessings like this happen for the moms at Blue Monarch who trust God and walk in his will for their lives - even when it is the most difficult thing they have ever done and goes against everything familiar.  God truly blesses the choices they make, and things start falling into place - things that otherwise seem impossible.  In fact, we even see medical test results reverse in a way that can only be explained as miraculous.  (This actually happened twice this week!)  Or complicated criminal charges unexpectedly drop, or extensive fines get completely forgiven.  I love for things like this to happen because it gets their attention in a way nothing else does.  It usually starts with, “Guess what, Miss Susan!  You’re not going to believe this!”  They are quick to give God the glory, even when their faith is quite new.  I suspect this puts a big smile on Jesus’ face.  He may even say under his breath, “see, I told you.” 

 

But there is a flip side to this as well.  The one who walks outside the will of God often experiences something quite different and it is an awful thing to watch from the sidelines.  That path can be very steep, and it tends to come with self-inflicted pain and loss, even though it always looks intoxicating in the beginning.  “It’ll be okay.  I promise, I know what I’m doing.”  I am not referring to the one who decides Blue Monarch is not a good fit and moves on.  I am talking about the one who walks away and picks up where she left off thinking it will end differently this time.  Or she uses that as her starting point and then sprinkles a few more poor choices on top.  I often wonder if there is a day when she realizes her world has become increasingly darker than it was the day before.  Does the downfall happen so gradually she doesn’t notice until the light is completely gone?  Does she slowly lose oxygen until she suddenly discovers she is suffocating? 

 

I do not believe things spiral out of control because God is punishing her, even if he uses those opportunities to teach some really great lessons.  She actually has free will to make those choices, which is oddly a gift from God, himself, but those actions sometimes cause chaos and even regret when she realizes what she has lost.  It is a sad thing to watch, and we feel helpless to stop the inevitable train wreck - especially when there are innocent children involved.  Truth is, I have yet to see a homemade path that even comes close to the one God has in mind.  So why do we ever insist on settling for less?  Why would we ever think we know better the creator who made us? 

 

God truly wants to bless us.  He wants to give us the desires of our heart.  And that is the key - when our heart’s desire is the same as his.  

 

It’s pretty simple, actually.  We just need to follow the simple directions God has graciously given us and we may not have to go through the ugly part where we find ourselves in the dark, weak and gasping for breath - perhaps even risking our lives.  As much as it hurts to sometimes see a woman of Blue Monarch take a path we know she will regret, we must pray for her safety as she travels the treacherous road she has chosen and be ready to take that call when she has the courage to reach out.  Thankfully, history has proven there is a good chance she will.

 

*****

 

Well, that was incredible timing.  Just got a message from a woman who has been on a dangerous path for a while now, and it sounds like she may be ready to rethink those directions.  Holy cow, I hope she’s serious.  She will not believe how great it feels to breathe again.

 

The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.  John 10:10 

Blink twice if you need help...

Rumors had it that a woman was hoarding wild animals and was obsessed with domesticating them.  One of those animals was a zebra, which got my attention.

 

I found the lady’s address.  The house was in a nice, upper-class neighborhood outside Nashville and at first glance the two-story red brick simply blended in with all the rest.  But what I discovered in her side yard hurt my heart.  There was a zebra in a surprisingly small pen along with a burro.  And for some unexplainable reason, a cougar was in a cage in the center of the pen.  So, basically a zebra was living with a natural predator in his bedroom.

 

Through an incredible trip to Kenya, I had absolutely fallen in love with zebras.  As a visual artist and horse lover, I couldn’t think of anything more spectacular than a striped horse.  But this poor zebra looked nothing like the magnificent creatures I had seen in Africa, running across the plains in herds of black and white stripes.  This zebra seemed lifeless and did not even lift his head to see me when I entered his space, which was very odd animal behavior.  He clearly needed to be rescued.  

 

This was going to be a little tricky because the zebra was not for sale, and I was a perfect stranger who showed up uninvited.  The woman and I got to talking and I quickly saw evidence of her affliction.  She was determined to train her wild animals to behave like well-behaved pets.  In fact, the cougars who lived in the house were expected to use a litter box and she was quite aggravated with the ones who had not yet caught on.  She had apparently hired several cowboys to break her zebra to ride, but they had been unsuccessful.  I later learned this is practically impossible due to the way a zebra is wired, which may be why we do not see people in Africa using them for transportation.  Not to mention, a zebra is not the size of a full-grown horse, so putting a man on his back was rather cruel in my opinion, and I could only imagine what the breaking process looked like.  The whole thing made me sick.

 

Recognizing her weak spot, I pretended to empathize with her failed attempts to “break” the stubborn zebra and convinced her to give me a try - but there was one condition.  I wanted to buy him from her.  After some negotiating, she finally agreed on a condition of her own.  I also had to take the burro that had lived with him for two years, but she was free.  Deal.

 

When I unloaded the two into their new spacious field on my horse farm, I couldn’t wait to see them run across the wide-open space and enjoy their newfound freedom.  But what actually happened was quite different.  For two whole weeks, they remained in the same small imaginary space to which they were accustomed.  Slowly but surely over the following weeks, they increased their voluntary confinement until they finally realized they could run and kick as much as they liked.  The first time I saw them do this it nearly made me cry.  They were finally free.  It was as if they literally came back to life.

 

Along with their new lives, I gave them both new names.  Zeus became Zelvis (Elvis with a Z) and the burro, who had no name, became Katie.   

Zelvis was king and had quite the personality.  I always described him as gentle, but not tame.  I had to basically trick him into doing what I wanted him to do - there was no making him.  He must be convinced it was his idea.  And only once, just for kicks, I climbed on his back to see what would happen and he got his own kicks.  I was on the ground in a split second, but somehow landed on my feet, thank goodness.  Katie was just there, always in the background somewhere.

After a number of years on my horse boarding farm, surrounded by lots and lots of horses, we moved Zelvis and Katie to the mountain where we live now.  We only brought two horses with us, along with Zelvis and Katie.  This did not go well.

 

Zelvis hated the move.  He became unruly, angry, and uncharacteristically out of control.  He was strong as an ox, in fact, he could push on a fence board with his chest until it snapped like a pencil.  Every single day he found a new way to escape and many mornings we woke up not knowing where he was.  I had fears of Zelvis becoming a rug for some heartless hunter in the area.  There was one day he dove under a fence that ran through a pond, to get to the other side, and another day he pawed at the ground until he dug a hole deep enough to crawl through like a soldier in the trenches.  Every day was the same challenge but in a different form from the day before.  

 

This change in behavior was hard to understand.  I suspected perhaps he was accustomed to being surrounded by thirty horses and now he only saw two across the fence.  Did he think all those horses were his herd?  Was he frantic to find them?  I finally decided the solution may be to allow him to live in the same field with my two mares, so we tried putting them together.  Bad, bad idea.

 

It was like a scene out of National Geographic.  Zelvis focused on Lacey, one of my mares, and went after her like a wild animal.  It is a wonder he didn’t break her back because every time she kicked at him, Zelvis ran under her and flipped her over.  It was vicious, violent, and quite scary.  Separating them was no small task and thankfully Lacey was somehow unhurt, although quite shaken.  

 

After struggling with Zelvis day after day for what seemed like an eternity, it broke my heart, but I finally decided we needed to find another home for him.  We could not continue living like this.  Fortunately, the people who bought our horse farm were excited to have Zelvis, which was my first choice anyway.

 

Loading Zelvis into a horse trailer was not easy.  I had to trick him into thinking Lacey was in the trailer by sticking her head in the window at the far end, and he fell for it hook, line, and sinker.  Once I slammed the door behind him and he realized he had been duped, he stomped his feet all the way back to my old farm, which was almost a two-hour drive.  When I unloaded him, he took a quick look around, realized he was back at home, and calmly began eating grass as if nothing ever happened.  But then I had to turn around and go get Katie.  Surely, she would be losing her mind without Zelvis.  After all, they had been together for nearly ten years by this time.

 

When I drove back home to pick up Katie, I could not believe what I found.  Katie was running around, literally kicking her heels in the air, as if it was the best day of her life.  She ran up to me and laid her big, ole head on my shoulder, which felt like it must have weighed fifty pounds.  It was as if she was saying, “can you please hold this thing for a while?  I need a break.”  She had never done this before, and in fact, I realized she and I rarely had any interaction because Zelvis always pushed her away.  Was it possible she was glad he was gone?  Was she abused and I never knew it?  

 

I watched Katie and it was very clear she was the happiest I had ever seen her.  I thought back on all the times I saw Zelvis bully her, and I was ashamed that I never paid much attention.  He really didn’t allow her to have any other relationships.  Poor Katie.  The abuse was right under my nose the whole time, but Zelvis overshadowed her in so many ways, I never noticed she needed rescuing.  I apologized to Katie, told her she could stay with us, and the next couple of weeks confirmed it was the right decision.

 

In no time, Katie was a new woman.  Her hair, which had always been too rough and course to touch, became soft and smooth as velvet.  Her ears relaxed a little and were no longer stuck on high alert.  She loved touching my face with her nose to say hello.  She had learned from Zelvis how to escape through the fence, so she let herself out when we rode our horses on the trails, and she ran along behind us with our dogs.  She always made us laugh because she looked like a woman running in high heels.  When we returned, she gingerly put herself back through the fence where she belonged.  Katie was loving life - perhaps for the very first time.

 

Katie was the one that held no value, the one with no name, and the one always in the background.  But once she was no longer under the control of another, no longer mistreated, allowed to interact with others, and free to be herself in a safe environment, she discovered who she was and loved what she found.  I’ll have to admit, I found her even more beautiful than a striped horse.  It was evident her days were filled with joy rather than dreadful control.   

 

There are many times when a woman walks in the door at Blue Monarch with aspirations of reuniting with a certain man in her life, even though her description of him will sound less than desirable.  She may have fantasies that he will recover while she recovers, and they will get back together and live happily ever after.  Every time I hear this, I have to hold back from laughing.  For weeks or even months, she will probably still operate in that same tiny space she is accustomed to, and it may take some time to adjust to her newfound freedom and safety.  But little does she know, there will come a day when she will look at the beautiful woman in the mirror, face a future that excites her, and suddenly realize Mr. Wonderful is no longer good enough for her and never was wonderful.

 

Sometimes there are even court documents that state a woman can have no contact with a specific man in her life.  But we love it best when she decides on her own that she deserves better anyway.  That’s much more binding than any court document because it’s a contract she has made with herself in her heart.  And if her journey is like so many women we serve, that contract will also be with God.  After all, he’s the one who made her and in his eyes she is perfect - and priceless.  May she settle for no man who does not believe the same.

Thank you, Lord, for Blue Monarch, where women can heal and discover the beauty and greatness that you have created in them.  Amen
  

One of These Things Just Doesn’t Belong

Seems like we have been hearing a lot lately about child trafficking. I can hardly wrap my head around this hideous crisis. In fact, the word “child” should never end up in the same sentence with “trafficking.” As they say on Sesame Street, “One of these things is not like the other. One of these things just doesn’t belong.” 

Over the past few weeks there have been reports of immigrant, unaccompanied children flying into small Tennessee airports in the middle of the night and then leaving on multiple buses...to go where? What in the world? Why do we not hear the rest of the story? Are we all assuming someone else is looking into it?  

There were also news reports recently about 150 missing children who were found in the state of Tennessee. And similar reports surfaced in other states across the country. I had so many questions. “Why did my phone not go off 150 times with an Amber alert for each child? Why did we not see 150 signs flashing over the interstate? Where are the 150 happy reunions with tearful parents?”  

I made some phone calls, contacted state politicians, and did a little research to see if I could get answers, and what I discovered did not make me feel any better. After everything I learned, I am even more alarmed about the children getting off those planes. Even our government officials are having trouble getting complete information and the details just seem to be spinning. Hearing the stories and watching the videos of this same scenario across the country made me want to cry and scream at the same time. I think it is easy to forget that every single child has a name and a face and is probably confused and afraid, not to mention, homesick. I suspect there are lots of tears and there will be more in the days to come.

As for the children in our own backyard, apparently many of the missing children in Tennessee simply got lost within the system. Children who were placed by the state with one person and somehow ended up with another. Some were runaways. This explanation was presented as if to say, “at least it wasn’t child trafficking.” Well, that may not be the case. Child trafficking can take on a lot of different shapes and sizes.  

Over the past couple of years, we have seen a dramatic increase in the number of children, even as young as three years old, who have been victims of sexual abuse. Every single day we observe the short-term and long-term impact of this abuse on the women and children we serve, and we know the time and tremendous work it takes to heal from the trauma. On top of that, after a crazy year of quarantine, I feel we need to brace ourselves for the stories we will hear going forward. In fact, we are even taking measures to strengthen our children’s program to address their trauma when these little ones show up on our doorstep. 

Honestly, this whole issue has really been heavy for me. There are a number of times through the years when I have tried very hard to report what was obviously child sexual abuse - and it went nowhere. I remember a three-year-old girl who was molested by her grandmother’s boyfriend and after months of taking all the necessary steps, the entire investigation came to an end simply because he denied he did it. Case closed.  

Or, in the case of another, because the pedophile was considered such a fine, upstanding man, no one would listen to my suspicions. As a result, the abuse went on undetected for years, and now that it is finally out in the open, it will take even longer to undo the damage.  

I went to bed recently with such a grieving heart. “Lord, there are so many children hurting. I feel so helpless because I can’t seem to make a difference. How can we stop these monsters?”

That same night I had an interesting dream. I was trying to get to Blue Monarch. My trip was longer and more difficult because I was traveling on foot for some reason. When I got just a mile or so from our campus, I came upon a busy intersection where I found a very long line of little, shiny red cars crossing the road in single file. Each miniature car held only one child. They reminded me of the child-sized cars I loved to drive at Fair Park in Nashville as a kid.   

Suddenly, the long train of little cars came to a halt and several of the children hopped out to stop traffic and help me cross the road. There was a young girl in particular who seemed to be a little older and directed the others as if she was in charge. I noticed right away her freckles and strawberry blond hair looked familiar.

The children seemed to be very happy as they giggled and chatted among themselves. As soon as they escorted me across the intersection, they cheerfully waved, got back into their little cars, and continued on their way as if they were excited to reach their destination. 

The next morning as I reflected on the curious dream, I thought back on the young girl who looked so familiar. Who was that? 

Suddenly I realized who she was.

There was a day when I felt an overwhelming need to visit a family that lived at Blue Monarch years before. This is not something I typically do, but I could not get this nagging thought out of my head. So, I got in touch with the mother, found out where they lived, and made arrangements to visit one day after school. She did not seem particularly excited about my visit but agreed to let me come by their house.  

It was great to see her kids and catch up with them. They had grown quite a bit since I had seen them last, and they were so excited to see me, they talked on top of each other as they reminisced about their favorite Blue Monarch memories. The mom stayed to herself most of the time.

At one point a man walked out of the house, got into a car and left. All four kids looked at each other and immediately stopped talking. Red flag. 

Finally, one child looked at the oldest and said, “You need to tell Miss Susan.” 

“Tell me what?”

This eventually turned into a long, detailed, very ugly and troubling story of repeated sexual abuse. The victim was the oldest sibling with freckles and strawberry blond hair, who was now a young teenage girl.  

Sick to my stomach, I drove away in a rage over what this disgusting man had done to this girl who was so innocent and unharmed when I saw her last. I remembered how she used to run into my office after school with grades that made her grin from ear to ear. She was so proud. I reported the abuse right away and was relieved to see that a case was opened a few hours later.

Of course, after making a report like this, I always wonder how things transpire and what kind of drama unfolds behind the scenes. I couldn’t help but wonder if this girl would be angry with me because it was pretty obvious who made the report. I had to do it, but I hoped she would understand it was to protect her.    

Amazingly, a few weeks later I ran into this young girl and her family in a nearby town. The mother was angry and grumbled about all the trouble I had caused, but the freckled girl immediately ran up and gave me a big bear hug. That was my answer. It sure was nice to see she still loved me. Her sibling, who urged her to tell, hugged me even harder. I couldn’t help but notice the young girl looked prettier than she did the last time I saw her, almost as if she had become a child again.

Later, as I reflected on how this turned out, I also thought back on how happy the children were in my dream. And then in my heart, I heard God say, “There have been lots of children rescued because of Blue Monarch - and there will be many more in the days to come. Sometimes the difference one makes is not visible to anyone but me.”  

 

He called a little child and had him stand among them.  And he said: “I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.  Therefore, whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.  And whoever welcomes a little child like this in my name welcomes me.  But if anyone causes one of these little ones who believe in me to sin, it would be better for him to have a large millstone hung around his neck and to be drowned in the depths of the sea.”  Matthew 18:2-6 

The Divine and Wonderful Bad Guy

It was a calm, ordinary sunny day, and I was traveling down the mountain on Highway 41 on my way to work.  The sky was a brilliant blue and the view of the Pelham Valley was spectacular as always.  Best I can remember, I was going about 40 miles an hour and despite the many irritating drivers who tend to straighten the curves and cross the center line on that curvy road, I was staying in my lane as I always do.  
 

All of a sudden, I heard a rough, deafening noise that I could not identify.  Then, in the blink of an eye, something violently landed on my car and smashed it like a bug.  Honestly, it was as if a piano had fallen out of the sky because I didn’t even have time to skid to a stop.  My car was stopped in its tracks in a split second.  Holy cow!  What just happened?!
 
It took me a moment to realize it was a tree.  Branches and leaves completely engulfed my car, and there was barely enough light to see that the roof had caved in and the dashboard was completely destroyed.  The cheerful music on the radio felt oddly out of place with such a destructive backdrop, so I turned off the key to concentrate.  I searched for my glasses and finally found them under the brake pedal.  I struggled with my door, but it wouldn’t open so I managed to slide out the other side. 
 
When I saw the damage from the outside, it was truly shocking.  The tree had landed right down the center of my car, from bumper to bumper.  Wow!  What a mess. 
 
My first instinct was to call Blue Monarch.  “Just wanted to let you know I’ll be late.  A tree just landed on my car.”  In looking back, I don’t know if that was an under-reaction from shock, or if it was an indication of my unpredictable Blue Monarch world, in which such an event was barely notable.
 
A car slowly crept around the carnage and the driver rolled down his window and squeamishly asked, “Was the driver killed?”
 
“Nope.  I am the driver.”  Surprisingly, that car and several others just drove by and no one stopped, which in looking back seems a little odd.
 
I called 911 to let them know what had happened.  “Are you hurt?”
 
“Hmmm...I hadn’t thought about it.”  I looked down, did a quick exam and replied, “Oddly enough, I am covered in millions of tiny pieces of glass, but I don’t even have a scratch.”  It was a miracle.
 
Needless to say, the car was totaled.  The guy who towed it called a few days later.  “Lady, I’ve been sitting here looking at your car and I’ve decided, you are either the most blessed person I know, or the luckiest person I know.  So, I was just wondering if you would buy me a lottery ticket.” 
 
One would think, after surviving something that should have killed me, I would come away feeling pretty invincible.  Just think.  Even a split second earlier or later could have made all the difference between life and death.  Not to mention, even the accident, exactly how it happened, really should have killed me or at least caused severe injury.  

But I did not feel lucky or blessed.  Instead, I seemed to be convinced another tree would fall on me at any moment.  I became keenly aware of what was over my head, and many times I caught myself leaning away from the trees when I drove up or down the mountain.  It had happened once.  Who’s to say it won’t happen again?
 
The reaction from others was almost as surprising as having a tree land on my car.  I cannot even count the number of times people interpreted what had happened by immediately placing the blame on God.  Seriously?
 
“God must be teaching you to slow down and smell the roses.”
 
“God must be trying to get your attention and you aren’t listening.”
 
“God wants to teach you a lesson of some kind...wonder what it is...”  Really?
 
It was shocking how many people immediately jumped to the conclusion the accident was something God did to me for some nefarious reason.  And my reaction was always the same.  “Are you kidding?  I believe God protected me!”
 
But, if I am honest with myself, did I really believe that?  If so, why was I so convinced it would happen again?  Why was I leaning away from the trees on the side of the road as if I was always in danger?  
 
Apparently, my faith was limited.  I believed God protected me, but I did not trust him to do it again.  
 
That’s a hard thing to admit because my entire Blue Monarch journey has been built on tremendous faith.  It has required supernatural faith every single step along the way - almost like beginning each day with a trust fall.  I’m a professional faith person!  So, if I live with that level of conviction on a daily basis, and still have limited trust in God, how in the world do we expect our deeply wounded women and children to trust him or anyone else, for that matter?  
 
We are always puzzled by how hard it is, and how long it takes, for our women and children to trust us.  In many ways we are the trees on the side of the road.  No wonder they lean away from us for so long.  They have been hurt many times by others - so who says they won’t get hurt again?  And again?
 
It has occurred to me recently that we face a much greater challenge than even addiction or abuse.  It is faith.  Teaching our families that God is not the bad guy.  After all, many of us are actually taught that from an early age.  “God will get you!”  As if he’s just sitting around like a villain, twisting his moustache between his thumb and index finger, just waiting for us to mess up so he can catch us in the act.  Bam!  Got another one! 
 
There is also a common, twisted theology that God puts us through bad things just to test our limits, as if he enjoys pushing us to the very edge of the precipice to see if we will break.  I have heard so many times, “Why did this happen to me?  I thought God would not give me more than I could handle.”  They are usually referring to things God did not give them anyway - such as actions of others or even their own poor choices.  After all, there's that pesky thing called "free will."  It must be so frustrating for God to love his children so much and still be thought of as the bad guy.
 
God is not the nasty one who made the tree land on my car.  He is the one who, despite all his other concerns that day, noticed the exact time I left my house, how long I lingered at the post office, how distracted I was because of a song on the radio, how far I swerved to miss a squirrel, and still made sure that when that tree fell, my car was positioned just enough this way or that, to protect me from getting hurt.  He was paying attention to every detail.  Every single detail.  That - is the God we want our women and children to know. 
 

The other day I looked back at the many graduates we have had at Blue Monarch since we began in 2003.  It has been an honor to present each and every one of them with a well deserved diploma.  As I reflected on each of their names, I wanted to see if there was a common denominator among those who have found freedom and have thrived the most. And I found it.  

The graduates who have surpassed even our greatest expectations are the ones who figured out this important fact:  As long as they are leaning toward their Heavenly Father who loves them, it really doesn't matter if a tree lands on them again.  Either way, he will take care of them.  And honestly, that is what you call, real faith.
 
Once again, my greatest teachers are the ones we serve.
 
Though you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and are filled with inexpressible and glorious joy, for you are receiving the end result of your faith, the salvation of your souls.  1 Peter 1:8-9