downwithtyranny

It was back in September when I came home one night and there was no parking on our street. The new neighbors were having a party. Cars on the lawn and everywhere and the front yard full of drinking, cussing people. This, after a summer of each night of a loud porch party. One evening as I was checking the mail the conversation was about which bong was the best. They are nice people, but we always had a quiet tree-lined street. Now that the housing market had taken a deep plunge in our area, we had investors buying rental properties and our neighborhood isn’t what it used to be. Coupled with a subsidized apartment building that had just been built less than a half-mile away and the increase of homeless traffic on the rail trail that runs the exterior path of our housing development and the neighborhood had changed drastically. My husband came home one night to find a man in a ski mask walking the neighborhood. Two of my neighbors were moving, one right next door, who would my new neighbors be?

I knew our home had lost value but I just kind of buried my head in the sand about it. Then I talked to an accountant that said my home had lost so much value that it would take about 30 years for me to recover my investment. Couple that with a friend who asked an innocent question, “At what point do you cut your losses?” We realized it was time to make decisions. I called the bank about a modification on the loan because at this point I can buy my exact floor plan for $90k less than what I owe. The bank said if we were current on the loan, a modification was not possible. So we missed a payment and asked for a modification. They said we didn’t qualify for a modification but we qualified for a repayment plan. It seems you have to miss two payments to be considered for a modification. So we missed a second one.

They asked us to turn in our financials, which we did. Only here is where it gets confusing or so I thought. My loan is with Wells Fargo Bank. They require that a home preservation specialist signs off on your docs to begin the process of a modification request. Only no one will sign off on my docs. They agree that I have turned them in, they agree that Wells Fargo has them, only they say that I need to get “serious” about my request and get someone to sign off. Besides calling and leaving messages, putting everything in writing and calling HUD how am I not being serious? Almost two weeks have passed since they promised a sign off on my docs.

In the meantime, they send me letters that states, “We are sorry we have not come to terms.” Here’s the kicker. If we start making our payments, then we no longer qualify for a modification request, AND they can still foreclose even if we catch up. I am frustrated and confused.

Then it dawned on me! We, the taxpayers, have already paid for my house. We did so with a bailout. They don’t care if I foreclose because they’ve already been paid. They sell the house to an investor and move on making money from what I paid, making money from the bailout, and making money from the investor. I knew the American public had been scammed but I didn’t realize to the extent.

downwithtyranny

It was back in September when I came home one night and there was no parking on our street. The new neighbors were having a party. Cars on the lawn and everywhere and the front yard full of drinking, cussing people. This, after a summer of each night of a loud porch party. One evening as I was checking the mail the conversation was about which bong was the best. They are nice people, but we always had a quiet tree-lined street. Now that the housing market had taken a deep plunge in our area, we had investors buying rental properties and our neighborhood isn’t what it used to be. Coupled with a subsidized apartment building that had just been built less than a half-mile away and the increase of homeless traffic on the rail trail that runs the exterior path of our housing development and the neighborhood had changed drastically. My husband came home one night to find a man in a ski mask walking the neighborhood. Two of my neighbors were moving, one right next door, who would my new neighbors be?

I knew our home had lost value but I just kind of buried my head in the sand about it. Then I talked to an accountant that said my home had lost so much value that it would take about 30 years for me to recover my investment. Couple that with a friend who asked an innocent question, “At what point do you cut your losses?” We realized it was time to make decisions. I called the bank about a modification on the loan because at this point I can buy my exact floor plan for $90k less than what I owe. The bank said if we were current on the loan, a modification was not possible. So we missed a payment and asked for a modification. They said we didn’t qualify for a modification but we qualified for a repayment plan. It seems you have to miss two payments to be considered for a modification. So we missed a second one.

They asked us to turn in our financials, which we did. Only here is where it gets confusing or so I thought. My loan is with Wells Fargo Bank. They require that a home preservation specialist signs off on your docs to begin the process of a modification request. Only no one will sign off on my docs. They agree that I have turned them in, they agree that Wells Fargo has them, only they say that I need to get “serious” about my request and get someone to sign off. Besides calling and leaving messages, putting everything in writing and calling HUD how am I not being serious? Almost two weeks have passed since they promised a sign off on my docs.

In the meantime, they send me letters that states, “We are sorry we have not come to terms.” Here’s the kicker. If we start making our payments, then we no longer qualify for a modification request. I am frustrated and confused.

Then it dawned on me! We, the taxpayers, have already paid for my house. We did so with a bailout. They don’t care if I foreclose because they’ve already been paid. They sell the house to an investor and move on making money from what I paid, making money from the bailout, and making money from the investor. I knew the American public had been scammed but I didn’t realize to the extent.

Today I want to direct you to my friend Jon’s blog. He wrote a great post about making a vow to God. So please click here.

Whenever my mom calls and she gets my voicemail, her message usually goes something like this; “Susie, this is your mother. I’m just calling to check on you. Call me when you get a chance.” This always makes me laugh because her voice is the first voice I ever recognized in my life, how could I think it was someone else? I know her voice. I never ask another person who calls, “Mom? Is that you?” Never. I know her voice.

So how do we know when we hear the voice of God? The answer is simply found in:

John 10:27 My sheep hear my voice, I know them, and they follow Me.

Just as I know my mother’s voice those who are part of the flock of the Lord know His voice and another they will not follow. It requires intimacy. It requires relationship. It requires lots of conversations over time. You can be so entwined with the Lord that you begin to see His cue without His ever having to utter a sound. Relationship is what we were created for.

So give Him a call today, just to see how things are going. You’ll find that the more time you spend with him, the more you’ll recognize his voice and you won’t have to wonder, “God is that you?”

In our last TLC meeting we discussed exactly this as part of our homework assignment! I love Dr. Kevin Leman, and this was timely and needed! Enjoy!

Click here to read the article.

Ephesians 4:29 Watch the way you talk. Let nothing foul or dirty come out of your mouth. Say only what helps, each word a gift. ~ The Message

I am a people watcher. One particular day Doug and I had decided to get Indian Food at a line-out-the-door-hole-in-the-wall, that has some good grub. We had a good 20 minute or more wait, so I watched the couple in front of us. She kept trying to talk to him, he kept reading his phone and answering in one or two words. Technology etiquette blog on the way. There were two girls from work discussing work it seemed, there were people quietly walking through the line. As we moved closer to the front, I began to look for a table. There were three women and two men, laughing hysterically and enjoying their lunch. What fun to have lunch with friends, I thought! One woman was a loud-mouth and chewed with her mouth open. Another etiquette blog. I watched her in what seemed like slow motion poking her fork into her curry chicken and then chewing with her mouth open as she talked to everyone. I wondered how much food was being sprayed into the others plates. She chews like a cow, I thought to myself.

We ordered and found a table to sit down at. As we waited patiently for our food to arrive, I noticed that many of the couples there were reading their phones and not interacting. Ourselves included. Okay, I thought, we really have to get back to the basics. Where’s the conversation here? I mean this has the potential of being a really good date for the two of us.

Ohoh! Landmine at the table with the three women and two men. Loudmouth girl says loudly, “That stupid f*^@&*# b%#@%. I asked her if something was up between us and she said no.” So the women begin to dish on whoever they were talking about. I quit looking at them because they were quite engrossed in their conversation. One of the men sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. The other man put his hand to his mouth. They looked uncomfortable. They looked away. They looked down at their food. Then the one man, with his hand to his mouth, engaged the other man in a conversation of some sort, and they both even positioned themselves and moved their seats slightly apart from the women. Now instead of five people talking at a table, there were two sets of conversations going. Displeasing conversation had broken up the camaraderie.

I looked around the room and realized we were unaware of each other, even when we’d opted to dine together. People were busy on their cell phones, others were merely eating, still others were having separate conversations unaware that others were uncomfortable. I looked over at the couple who had been in front of us in the line. She was sitting quietly annoyed and he was still on his phone. We were still on our phones, as Doug began to tell me about what he’d learned about beer on the History Channel. I crinkled my nose and said, “Beer is gross.”

It begs the question are we engaging each other in real conversations? Conversations that matter? The gossip at table of five separated out lunch buddies, the cell phones separated out many. Wait! I look over in the corner of the room. There are three old guys with long hair. Hippee-types from another time. They were eating Tandoori salads, leaning back in their chairs, in friendly discussion. No phones, no women! I couldn’t hear what they were saying. Maybe their free love talks of days gone by, have given way to political discussions about Wall Street? I don’t know, but it made me wonder if we’ve lost the art of conversation?

sofiastyles.com

In our TLC bible study, Lioness Arising, Lisa Bevere makes a statement that 50 million females are missing off the face of the planet. The number struck me. Have you ever considered that women have vanished, been aborted, killed, or set aside, never to be seen or heard from again? Lisa then makes the statement that she isn’t even talking about sex-trafficking.

I began to google gendercide and began to read. Today I wanted share an article with you. As you read it, begin to think about where you are in the world and what you can do about it? What if your role is to make people aware that it happens? As Lisa Bevere states, we think this is an “over there” problem but what we allow over there eventually comes here.

Click here to read the article.

An Aesop fable

A goatherd driving his flock from their pasture at eventide, found some Wild Goats mingled among them, and shut them up together with his own for the night. The next day it snowed very hard, so that he could not take the herd to its usual feeding places, but was obliged to keep them in the fold. He fed his goats just sufficient food to keep them alive but fed the strangers more abundantly in the hope of enticing them to stay with him and of making them his own. When the thaw set in he led them all out to feed, and the Wild Goats scampered away as fast as they could to the mountains. The Goatherd scolded them for their ingratitude in leaving him, when during the storm he taken more care of him then his own herd. One of them, turning about said to him: “That is the very reason why we’re so cautious; for if you yesterday treated us better than you have the Goats you have had so long, it is plain also that if others came after us, you would in the same manner prefer them to ourselves.”

Old friends cannot with impunity be sacrificed for new ones.

” According to your faith let it be to you.” ~Matthew  9:29

It’s been a stressful week. We’re moving the RMA store to a bigger location. You may not understand what I mean. I mean a 3X bigger location. Every muscle in my body aches, my back hurts, 12-14 hour days, and yet there is an excitement I can’t contain as my artistic skills are put to the test in the decorating department. Everyone is working so hard.

We have two rescue cats in the store. I went to the local shelter to rescue an adult cat when we found a mouse in the store. I’m scared of mice and not ashamed to admit it. When I got to the shelter, there was only one adult cat. Of course there was a catch because there always is in my life. The adult cat came with a kitten attached, literally! So, Fiona, affectionately known as Mama Kitty, and Anya came to live at the RMA store.

They have lived with us for almost two years now and knowing cats hate change, I had them moved last. They came to the new location yesterday. Mama Kitty meowed some, but Mama Kitty knows what’s up. She looked around, milked some treats out of us, and realized any place is better than the shelter, so she went exploring. When she’d get scared she’d come to me and I’d lift her up and snuggle.

Anya, on the other hand, was freaked out with a capital F. She cried out, she ran from every hand including mine. I put her in a room with her food and litter and thought a little quiet would do her good. Nope an hour later, I could not find her. At first, I thought she was hiding. Then I thought maybe she had made a run for it as the door had been left open. I began to walk around the building paying special attention the bushes. My poor Anya had never been outside. She’s a store cat, it’s all she knows. She has never been away from her mom, except for the time she was spayed.

My friend Vikki said, “I hope she turns up or you won’t be able to relax at all.” She knows me. I could not find Anya. I had to go to the office to wait for the payroll and process it. Where could she be? I left the store at 4 p.m. and returned at 7:30 p.m. Where was Anya? I can’t let her sleep outside. I can’t lose her. I am responsible for her.

“Father, I need your help. I can’t find Anya. She’s scared. It’s not her fault we’re moving. I know you see all and you know where she is. Give me your vision in this moment and help me find her. I know you know where she’s at and I know you know my heart towards her. You care about the birds so I know you care about Anya. Help me Lord, direct me, show me where she is. I trust you. I have faith in you. I know you’ll show me. In the mighty name of Jesus I pray. Amen.”

I drove around the back of the building in the dark with my brights on. “Show me where she is Lord.” Dogs were barking furiously in the residential area behind the shopping center. “Lord, protect her.” I parked the car and walked into the building. It was dark and the only light was from the parking lot. I was met by Mama Kitty. “Meow, meow, meow!” She’s weaving in and out of my legs with urgency. I said, “I know sweety. Where’s the baby kitty? Where’s Anya? Help me find her sweet girl.” “Meow, meow!” She moves with urgency as she seems to be saying, “Come with me.”

I follow her and she leads me straight to a muffled cry. “meow, meow”, they are both crying now. “Anya, I hear you baby girl, where are you?” “meow, meow”, her response is so muffled. I move a dresser and there she is. I snatch her up as she shivers. “Thank you Jesus!” “It’s okay baby girl. It’s okay.”

Lord, that you leave the 99 to take me by the hand to show me the desire of my heart. That you would use a cat as your call of love, to lead me to the spot. That you would care about me in the midst of famine, wars, heartache, and trouble.

I watched Anya as she would rub on her mother and rub on me, hair standing up on her back, scared but safe. I am reminded that this is what kingdom life is. “Where are we going Lord?” “Just follow me and have faith.” “I don’t know what is required of me in this journey I’m scared.” “Just trust and follow.”