Meet My Godmother

This is my Godmother. She's not the one I was given when I was christened as a baby. That was Aunt Louise, who was a lovely person, I'm sure, although I don't really know because I never really knew her.

Joan Santomenna is the mother God gave me when I was 14 years old. My dearly loved Mommy was sick all of my life and really incapable of taking proper care of me as I entered adolescence.

I came to a saving knowledge of Jesus Christ in Joan and Rol's livingroom. She guided me around, and sometimes through, the pitfalls of teenage life. And at the center of every conversation was Jesus. The answer to every question was the Lord. Every situation, every dilemma was brought before the throne of God. That's not to say that I was always prepared, or that life always flowed and there were never any waves. But she always reminded me to turn to the Lord with any problem.

Two years ago Joan treated her husband, my beloved Rol, to a cruise through the Panama Canal. Having been through a difficult health situation, she asked me to paint a cane for her to use on the voyage.

Everyone who saw it commented and before I knew it friends were asking me to make canes for them! Thus was born;

Leaning On The Promises, hand painted puzzle canes.

If you would like to own a hand painted cane you can find them at

www.leaningonthepromises.etsy.com

You can view weekly entries for the Inspiration Avenue challenge at

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www.leaningonthepromises.etsy.com

www.measuremecharts.etsy.com

www.finishthis.etsy.com

www.JudyAGoddardArtisan.blogspot.com

The Miracle of Nine

Last summer my Godmother became critically ill and nearly entered Heaven's gates when she was rushed to the hospital with massive internal bleeding. For 11 days her bleeding went uncontrolled. And during that time, she had been told, she received eight units of blood. Eventually the source of the bleeding was found and repaired and she was able to return home. Her convalescence was complicated by chemo therapy, but she did get better and is grateful to God for seeing her through this and showing her with such assurance, that He intends for her to be well and to continue the work He has placed in front of her.

While worshipping in church, several months after her hospital stay, she was filled with gratitude for those anonymous people who had donated their blood, making her recovery possible. And she prayed for them. " Oh Lord", she prayed. "Please send a special blessing to those eight people who donated their blood so that I could live." And in the small still voice that she recognised as God's, she heard, "Nine." Well, she was confused by that, and she said, "But Lord, my husband told me there were eight people who gave their blood." And the Lord spoke back, "Mine!"

And it is so true that God hears everything we say to Him! Whether it's praise or prayer, worship or petition, He hears it and He acts upon it, for our benefit and His glory!

But here's the rest of the story; When she was told that there was a chance she might have cancer cells floating around in her, her doctor ordered a blood test to measure a certain protein, CA125, in her blood, that is an indicator of cancer. The count was 257. The optimal number would be under 50. A few months later it was suggested that she discontinue the chemo, due to certain side effects that occured, and she was glad to agree. The CA125 blood test was run again and the count was............................nine!

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Empathy is two edged sword

My daughter turned 20 today. When she was a wee might I could knit sweaters for her and she wore them and loved them. Then adolescence came along and she told me not to knit for her anymore. Last year she asked me to knit her a sweater she saw in one of my knitting books. I was overjoyed! But after I was finished she never wore it. There it sits up in her closet. Oh well, I think she'll wear the wrist warmers I made her for Christmas.

She's a little slip of a girl, barely 100 pounds and as tough as nails. To look at her you'd think she was a gangbanger. She's "into" black and chains and doc martin high top boots. She wears a black bandana on her head like a gang member. But she's not in a gang. At least not in the usual sense. She calls her friends her "pack". They're all kind of scary looking too.

She goes to college now and her father and I hope she'll find a new catagory of friends. But she still seems pretty stuck on her old crowd.

They are all a needy bunch. Such problems! But that's why she likes them. She can mother them and worry about them to her heart's content. But she doesn't take good care of herself. She worries so! And she tries to fix them. They won't listen to her, so she worries some more.

She doesn't understand that it's possible to love and nurture others while still taking good care of herself. I was much the same when I was her age, although my friends were not as massively needy as hers. My "projects" were fewer in number and spaced apart, not all in one "pack".

We continue to pray for her and her friends. We hope she grows up soon. And maybe I'll live long enough to see it! ( If it doesn't take too long.)

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