United States of America
It was about 14 to 16 years ago, I was a single person living in San Diego. My two daughters were grown, one in Alabama and one in Chicago, so of course, my grandchildren were with them. I had good friends but felt a deep sense of loneliness because I missed my family.
My church at the time was a good starter church, but not a lot of thorough biblical teaching. My job was good, but at the end of the day, loneliness would set in again and again. I began to wonder what my purpose was away from my loved ones. Many times I was content and kept busy with events after work. For many years that was enough…for a while. Depression was setting in until one day I reached out to God and told Him that I can’t do this anymore. I need my family! It’s interesting to me how often I forget to ASK God and try to figure everything out for myself. You can probably guess that God stepped in and answered my prayer. Why do I find this so astonishing that our perfect Heavenly Father will go to any length to bless us with more than we could ask?
About two days later I received a phone call from my oldest daughter saying that they were moving to San Diego! Did I hear that right? My daughter and her husband who never cared for San Diego and thought it was too conservative were now coming here. Graduating from college in San Francisco, her views were fairly liberal to say the least!
Well, those years were some of the best years of my life. My first grandchild, Ava, was about four years old. The times were precious and magical as we played and imagined the most wonderful thoughts and the most fun make-believe games. Those years together were priceless, and God blessed us richly! He answered my prayers in ways I couldn’t have imagined. It is so true that He has better plans for us than we could ever expect.
So, again I wonder, why am I so surprised when God answers me in the most perfect way? Maybe I’ll never understand that as long as I live on this side of Heaven but I’m so thankful that He is my Perfect Heavenly Father and also thankful that His ways are not our ways!
United States of America
It was going hundreds of miles an hour. It was thousands of miles in the sky. It was a seat.
And I was buckled in it. Gazing through the compact oblique window, I saw endless hues of pastel blues puckered with cascading shades of curly, swirly cotton-candy clouds. The sunlight reflected the joy in my heart pulsing from the grateful satisfaction of a deferred hope fulfilled at long last. Reunion. Reconciliation. Reconnection. What I thought might never happen was, indeed, happening.
The cantankerous roar of the airplane’s turbines was a stark contrast to the calm purring within me. Recalling the strange series of events that landed me in the airboat getting ready to land at JFK airport in the bustling Big Apple slid me into cruise control. Strange as it might have seemed to others. Miraculous it was to me.
A gentle unyielding whisper from the Holy Spirit within birthed the entire outcome. “Just type his name in the search bar.” That was all God asked of me. A simple obedience. Such a small request. Yet one that required my faith to bound like a gazelle. It had been so long since I had spoken with him — seen him, felt his embrace, heard him utter my name — that I didn’t know if I’d spell his name correctly. So many ordinary moons had passed before this once-in-a-blue moon occasion. Would I even recognize him if his face appeared on the screen?
“Go ahead, put his name in the search bar.” There was that prod again stoking the fire of hope. The very breath of God was breathing on the embers of my faith into full flame. Was it spelled with a “w” or a “u?” Was it with or without a “y?” Maybe I should spell it both ways to cover all my bases. My typing stuttered and hesitated as I gave God my simple yes. I went with the most common spelling I thought of. D-w-a-y-n-e and pressed enter. There, I did it. Part of me felt foolish. God claimed it and reframed it as zealous.
I didn’t know I was holding my breath when a list of profile results popped up on the Facebook page. I scrolled searching. Each blink of my eyes reverberated a prayer against disappointment.
I paged down and down, stopping for but a moment when one man’s image tickled a place in my soul. But apprehension caused me to scroll on a little further. It wasn’t until the Holy Spirit nudged me again that I dared to go back and click on the man’s name, D-u-a-n-e. Behold – it was my long-lost father, despite my misspelling and all.
“Hi, my name is De’Siree. I saw my name listed on your profile page. And I think I’m the daughter you’re looking for.” “Hello, beloved. I’m your father. I’ve never stopped loving you. How I’ve missed you.” The plane had landed. The cabin was on the ground but strolling from it felt like walking on air. I arrived at the luggage carousel. And he was there with my grandpa, both waiting for me with the same joy of a deferred hope fulfilled years and years at last.
Reunited, and reconnected, with the man and the family I had lost when I was around 4 or 5 years old. I was 18 then. And God had restored all the years the locust had eaten. Impossible you say? Perhaps for others. But for God? Not at all.
The improbable, becomes possible even with the smallest yes, with the most meager step of obedience in God’s direction, with a mustard seed of faith, and the slightest spark of courage to hope. Nothing’s impossible for the God who makes all things possible to those who trust, believe, and
take Him at His word. God voids the impossible because His word doesn’t return to Him void.
by De’Siree N. Reeves
United States of America
When asked to think about what impossible to possible story of how God worked in my life, it led me to this event that happened over 50 years ago or longer. I haven’t thought about this for quite some time, but the Lord laid these thoughts on me to remember just how He is always there, whenever and wherever.
Our family was rejoicing over my older brother’s firstborn son. He was now two years old, and I was working as a waitress at the time, about a year old in our small community town. My boss received a phone call that I was to hurry home immediately, as there was a catastrophe happening. I did not know what, but I was told to go to my brother’s home right away. He and his wife lived about 10 miles away from where I was working.
To get to their place, there was a one-lane bridge over a deep creek. I reached that bridge in the middle only to be met by my other brother going the opposite way. We met in the middle, unable to back up, and worried we were on this small bridge. He explained to me that my little nephew had gone outside the gated fence and had fallen into a sewer hole in the back outer fenced yard.
He had suffocated and was found by the dog standing over this hole. His dad had tried to retrieve him and almost lost his life. We were all in shock and immediately realized we were in a dilemma of how to cross this bridge safely.
How did two cars fit this tiny bridge? No two cars could have passed on this bridge. It was “impossible”. This wasn’t possible to do, yet it did.
When my brother, who was driving the other vehicle, and I spoke about this later, we agreed that it was not our doing, but the Lord’s hand that got us through this passage. We should have toppled off the side into the deep creek. Our angels were with us in this deep time of grief. We do not always understand how we can successfully get through difficult and hard times, but knowing the Lord has been a comfort in all the rest of my journeys. I can guarantee he carries me more times than I could even count and continues to be with me always.
What a blessing to know you all can have the same comfort, just for believing. God carries you through and never leaves your side (that’s His promise).
Thank you, Lord, for your mercy and grace everlasting. I give all the glory and honor to you.
United States of America
Growing up, I was extremely close to my parents and grandparents. My father and maternal grandmother in particular were my confidants. While attending a church service on the second of June 2010, my grandmother left service to gather groceries for dinner. I was listening to the sermon when my praise dance instructor retrieved my cousin and I to inform us that our grandmother had fallen out in the store. Through my tears, I remained hopeful that this was an easy fix sort of problem. After about a week and multiple tests, it was confirmed as terminal cancer.
A few short months later while sitting in my grandmother’s hospital room, I received a call from her doctor. “We’re going to give her about six months to live,” then the phone went silent and she hung up. Where she said six months, God gave us six beautifully trying years.
The first Thanksgiving was hard because we didn’t have the glue that held us together and my father had relapsed in his drug addiction. My mother and I felt alone, but the Holy Spirit always comforted us. After a six year cancer battle with my grandmother and a seven year addiction battle with my father, hope seemed lost. Until God called me by name to be comforted by Him and the people He sent to rebuild my hope and faith in His plan.
My family is stronger than ever and we all work to be the glue, through God to stay close to one another. We even started our own new family tradition. My father is now seven years sober and our relationship is stronger than ever. God created a new life for us and restored everything we lost.
United States of America
Jesus loves me, this I know For the Bible tells me so
I vividly recall the circle of little wooden chairs in a small vestibule behind the sanctuary at Montgomery Presbyterian Church. I was between three and four years old. In the tiny vestibule we sang “Jesus Loves Me’ knew that my mother loved me. I knew that my Aunt Geraldine loved me as well. When I was six years old, a piano was moved into the sitting room of our house. On Thursdays my mother would drive my father to work then come back home in order to drive me to piano lessons12 miles away. I have no doubt that my Aunt Geraldine paid for the piano and probably the lessons. My aunt also bought me new winter coats and a watch with tiny diamonds. All because they loved me!
My mother was a sweet child of God. The Wilder family legacy was one of faith and gentle spirit. The Mob family from whence came my father carried forward a legacy of anger, alcoholism, and unrelenting bitterness. This legacy was manifested in a generational cycle of physical and emotional abuse among the five Mobley s (My father was the oldest) and alcoholism caged in co-dependence on the part of the one Mobley daughter. The two youngest boys clung to their mother and were emotionally and mentally disturbed throughout their lives.
I learned later that children raised in an abusive household will respond in different ways. Most common is normalization of the abuse. Thus continues a multigenerational cycle of abuse or co-dependence. Less common is a fierce will to not repeat nor tolerate the behavior. I experienced this in dating years, when any show of anger would drive me away. I escaped the noisy environment at home by retreating into books. My favorites were “Heidi” and “Anne of Green Gables”. Was it coincidence that they chronicled life as an orphan? Along the way I became an excellent student, the pride of my parents and family. I was the only child of seven to graduate from high school, the only Mobley to graduate college.
At the age of 15, God placed a young man in my life. He sat in the back of tenth grade French class. I hadn’t noticed him, but he tells me now that my legs drew his attention from the back of the class. I always sat in front. Well, God would use more than a French class to accomplish his purpose. A month or so later, I was walking along the deserted beach on Daufuskie Island, South Carolina. My father loved Daufuskie, a remote barrier island where he could escape the noise and stresses of an industrial power terminal where he worked swing- shift. On Daufuskie he could also drink, dance and party with his island friends. Not a recipe for long life. He succumbed to a major heart attack at age fifty-six, but not before I came to understand him and through forgiveness, love him.
Back to the young man. As I was walking the beach, this fellow was standing at the water’s edge balancing a slalom ski. Chuck and his family frequented the Daufuskie beach for picnics, swimming and water-skiing. What a coincidence! He recognized me from French class and I nodded and smiled. Thus began a 58-year romance with our 53nd wedding anniversary approaching soon.
God’s blessings have been beyond measure. Beginning with the immeasurable love and devotion of my husband. A story punctuated by the birth (not an easy one) of our precious son. These blessings have culminated with an amazing daughter-in-law and three incredible grandsons.
The story doesn’t end here. Through a series of “coincidences” I have met and worked together with a cousin from Louisiana (remember the Mobley daughter) to develop a genealogy and gather family history. Genealogical research reveals the tragic experiences that have formed the Mobley Legacy. The reuniting of the Mobleys was begun in 2003 with the first annual Mobley Cousins Reunion. Those whom God has rescued through faith in Jesus Christ have led other cousins to leave the hurt and unforgiveness behind them, to be washed away like footprints from the Daufuskie sands.
Jesus loves you!
