Kim's Eyes

It was 1967 and I was a student at Indiana University where I was studying English and living off campus in an apartment. No one I knew in those days had a vehicle, so we walked to classes through that huge campus of 40,000 students in all kinds of weather. Since we had no phone in the rooms and no internet we never knew if classes were called off for snow. Oh! How I remember trudging through snow drifts, my fashionable wool pleated skirts worn mid-thigh with knee socks on my short legs. One winter was brutal and the freezing storm left a half- inch crust of  ice on top of the drifts. I got to class and read on the board "class canceled".  I rubbed my blood-red knees and thighs that were nicked with deep scratches from the ice and headed back home.

A bright spot in my cold story:

I met Kim when we shared a class in Ballantine Hall. Kim LOVED life! She saw beauty everywhere. While others whined about homework, rain, or lousy dates, Kim rejoiced. She would point and exclaim over the beauty she saw all around her as we walked from Ballantine Hall to other buildings in which we shared classes.

Kim was blind.

I was not a believer, so I didn't even put two and two together that God was the source of her joy. I just knew that Kim was amazing and overwhelmingly grateful when I didn't see a lot for which she could be grateful. She would squeal and exclaim about how pretty the creek looked or how beautiful the sky was. She didn’t want a service dog or a cane. She wanted to walk holding hands. She wanted to hold MY hand.

I invited Kim to dinner.  As soon as she walked into my apartment she began exclaiming about how cute everything was. Her hands eagerly touched every object on my shelves and responded about each that it was so adorable.

I did hear Kim complain once: about being short! Since we were the same height I could commiserate with her. I gave her a huge hug and said, "Kim! We're same size but your heart is MUCH bigger than mine!"

A Call To Africa!

 "We're in St. Louis and need to see you now!"  The voice was husky and foreign. Bishop Samuel and Lady Theresa Thiong’o wanted to come over immediately. What a shock! I hadn't seen them for ten years when I had met them briefly in the home of friends. I'd written to them steadily over the years, encouraging them in their work, but we'd never sat down face to face. In less than an hour the two beautiful dark black people were seated in our living room drinking tea.

"Cheryl we need you to come to Kenya and speak in a women's conference this summer."

I told them I couldn't because plans were made to go to Israel that summer. "You can." They insisted. "You can and you will."

The four of us who were going to Israel added Kenya to the trip. We arrived in Nairobi at 1 in the morning and were met by NO ONE. We waited an hour and I said, "I'm calling them."  A horrified fellow traveler said, "You can't call anyone at this hour." Bishop answered the phone groggily and instantly was awake! "I thought you meant 1:00 in the afternoon!" Since then I never leave any room for doubt: 9:00 before lunch or 9:00 when it is dark at night!

They arrived in an hour and we were off, first to spend the night in a home in Nairobi then off to Kitale.

We got settled into the guest house where we were shown our accommodations and given instructions on washing the hair (using a Tupperware container) and how to flush the toilets using a bucket of water.

We arrived in the church where we saw written on the chalk board "Women with aVision Conference". Suddenly I felt a little squeamish. "Lady Theresa, what other women are speaking?" She told me that this was purely a Women with a Vision conference. There were no other speakers.  We sped into action. We had no idea we were IT presenting to the women for four days morning, noon, and night.

They started to arrive, beautiful women, all on foot, who had been traveling, some for days. Most had babies on their backs and many had sleeping mats on their head. Oh no! Oh God! We'd better be good. We'd better be worth it! The sacrifice these dear women were making.

Outside were men near cooking pots. Before them were mounds of peas and corn and rice....mounds that were waist-high. The men were preparing food for our conference!

The conference was wonderful! The women held us, wept and said, "We didn't know that women in America had troubles like we do!" It was an amazing four days that we have held in our hearts all these years.

It is time to go back. Would you like to go?

With love from Cheryl, the Thiongo’s and the orphans we support--all of whose parents died of AIDS

Why I Left Direct Sales

I love sales! There is a challenge in making the people connections .  There is a challenge in gaining people's confidence. There is a challenge in closing the sale.

But I don't sell anymore.

I was born again in 1978 very quickly afteward was recruited as a distributor for Shaklee Corporation. I loved the products, the plan and the people. I got rid of everything in my house that could be replaced with Shaklee products and started contacting friends.

In a short time we were assistant supervisors then supervisors. We traveled to the plant in Norman, Oklahoma and to states where top sales people held conferences.

I had seen the signs which were none too subtle. Neil and I attended Jewish Marriage Encounter (during the phase when Neil was trying to woo me out of Jesus back to Judaism) and met a couple who couldn't get enough of us. Sada said, "Whatever you two have, I want." Instead of leading Sada to the Lord I signed her up as a Shaklee distributor. We spent hours and hours and hours together. 

We attended a conference in which Scripture was used, and instead of Jesus, Shaklee was inserted. People were given the opportunity to purchase busts of Dr. Shaklee.

Everyone I saw became a candidate for Shaklee:  they needed the business opportunity, the better health, or a non-poisonous way to clean their homes.

I was addicted to adding people into my business. I did not have one friend to whom I had not sold or whom I had not recruited.

Many people can do business and also ministry. I was told by leaders that if I could just blend the two I'd be a phenomenon of success.  But I couldn't. I had to choose. I chose evangelism. I chose fervor for Jesus. I simply could NOT justify spending minutes talking about a business when I could be attending the soul and spirit.

 I did finally share my faith with Sada. Since she is also Jewish I gave her a jewel of book called Raisins and Almonds which is simply a compilation of stories of Jews who saw the truth about Yeshua. She called me saying, "Our friendship is over. I have never felt so used and betrayed."

Interesting: she  never felt used when I was building my business on her sales ability, but she felt used when I offered her a free gift of a glimpse of my Savior.

More! I had recruited ALL of the members of our Jewish encounter 'family' into Shaklee. The"Love Family" met once a month sharing stories of ourselves and our marriages. It was wonderful! The Love couples became some of Neil's and my best friends. After Neil joined me in Jesus we decided that we needed to 'fess up' and tell these Jewish folks who we were. I invited all of the women to the Magic Pan for lunch and told them the story of how I came to faith in Jesus.  They listened politely and even smiled at me. At 8:30 that evening the phone rang. It was a husband of one of our Jewish love friends. "Our Love family is one couple too big."  I thanked him and told him it must have been difficult for him to have made that call.  We never saw or heard from any of them again.

 I gave up my business because I simply COULD NOT mix Jesus with my profit. Was it right? I don't know. I still use the Shaklee products. If I sold anything, it would be Shaklee. But I sell nothing--except the joy and love in my heart for Jesus, and that's free.

Being in sales gave me one gem that I've kept in my heart all these 32 years. "80 % of  sales are made on the fifth call." I learned to be tenacious. Just because someone doesn't want to hear about how Jesus changed my life the first time or the second time or the third time doesn't meet it is a forever 'no'.80 % of the sales are made on the fifth call.

How Did a Jewish Woman Fall in Love with Palestinians

When I lived in Israel there were no Palestinians. There were Jews and there were Arabs. I never heard the word Palestinian until it referred to Arabs whose land was won by Israel during the Six Day War and  wanted it back.

While I was teaching in Ashdod I was engaged to a Madrich Gadna at the same school. A Madrich Gadna was a person who taught the mandatory high school class in which young men and women were trained to be soldiers. Once Israel mobilized for war he left and became a tank commander in the Sinai Peninsula. When he returned to Ashdod he brought me a paper he had found. It was a spelling test of an Arab student that confirmed what I had come to believe. Arabs hated Israel and wanted to obliterate it. The spelling paper was full of words used in war time: bombs, explosives, war planes.

I came back to the US sure of one thing. Arabs were the enemy of Israel and therefore the enemy of me. I had no place in my heart for Arabs.

Thirteen years after the war I had a sudden and revolutionary experience with Jesus Who changed everything. Almost everything. God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten son. We know the words, but is it our truth? Arabs are part of the world. Did I love them as Jesus did? I was about to find out.

During a meeting of Women with a Vision Debbie said, "Cheryl! I want you to meet Maryam, a Christian Arab." My smile remained on my face but I felt my eyes freeze. I muttered something, but of this I was sure. I would not meet Maryam. I had absolutely NO desire to meet Maryam. Maryam was an Arab, Christian or not. No. I did not put 'meet Maryam' in my Daytimer.

But God.

A few weeks later our son Nathan wanted to buy a notebook and wanted to buy it from Grandpa Pigeon's. . Those were two unlikely desires. Nathan didn't care about school or notebooks, and he didn't like cheap stores. This was a set-up. We walked into Grandpa Pigeon's and got in line behind a young woman and a slightly order man. I heard them speaking a language I recognized as Arabic.  My love of people overtook my mindset against Arabs and I asked, "Where are you from?" The young woman answered that she was from Bethlehem. I  knew immediately that she was a 'Palestinian' because if Jews lived on the same block they would say, "I live in Israel." Since this woman named the city instead of the country, it told me she didn't recognize Israel as a state. She introduced her uncle and said he was visiting. Then she said, "I am an Arab but I'm a Christian." The smile on her face was dazzling. I said, "I am a Jew but I am a Christian." Suddenly the environment around us became electric. Simultaneously we began shrieking in delight, jumping up and down and hugging each other. I told her my name. She said, "My name is Maryam." Yes, the very same Maryam I had vowed never to meet.

Maryam and I became best friends. For the first time ever, I listened. I listened I listened. Things I had refused to consider were IN MY FACE. I heard about atrocities. I heard about houses that had been taken. I'd heard about checkpoints, and violations, and beatings by Israeli soldiers. I listened. The wall I erected around my heart with the big sign "No Arabs Allowed" crumbled.

Not only did I accept Arabs into my heart, I started LOOKING for them so I could listen to them.  I came to realize that Palestinians above all, want to be heard.

In three weeks Neil and I are going to Phoenix to stay in the home of our dear friends John and Maryam Yatim. God has a plan. And this time I am going to embrace it!

Why I Do or Do Not Believe in Miracles by J.B.

I was 20 years old and serving in Ashdod, Israel as a volunteer with Sherut La'am. It was May of 1967 and everyone knew war was impending. The gulf of Aqaba had been blocked, and the many surrounding Arab nations were watching. I was a teacher of English and French at Ashdod Junior High School.  Almost all of the students had a father or brother who had been mobilized.

I had received a visit from the member of the Sachnut (Jewish Agency) telling me that I was being evacuated along with the other foreigners. I declined. After having been in Israel only 11 months I said, "I'm staying. To me, to die for Israel is to die for God." 12 months beforehand I was training on a large tricycle as part of the Little 500 at Indiana University. I had come to Israel full of bruises on my legs from a tricycle.. Now I stood at the door and told the gentleman that I was staying to help in the war. To think that 11 months ago my silly brain was on tricycle races!

  My idea of war was World War II when my father served for 4 years as a bombadier on the Flying Fortress or of Viet Nam when my cousin's wedding dress hung 2 years while she waited for the return of her  helicopter pilot fiance.  I was prepared to stay for a war which I assumed would last  years.

During this time of mobilizattion for war I gave a writing assignment to my 8th graders: Why I Do or Do Not Believe in Miracles.  I came across a composition written by a young man I'll call Jacob B. I'm not changing the spelling or syntax.

"Subject: Why I do or not believe in miracles.

I do not believe in miracles because, if I can say, miracles belong to fairy tales and we are not child. to believe in fairy tales. Above all we are in the twentieth century. The world has done one step forward and the people became civilized and forgot the fanatical thoughts and also the old storys.

Now we have to work hard all the day, to ameliorate our situation. We have not free time to think of the Silliness. This is a reason why a man of our time don't believe in miracles. During the time the man want to live in the moon. I say that the miracales must not have sense and they will continue to have no meaning forever."

A month later I was in the bomb shelter at the school with Jacob and his classmates.

The Day I Lost My Father: Alzheimers, The Ultimate Intruder

My dad looked for reasons to be proud of me. It wasn't easy. I was plain, average in intelligence, mousy brown hair. Despite the various lessons my parents paid for, I never excelled in anything. But my dad would BEAM when he introduced Jeff and me at work. When we would go to his office the clerks would exclaim over how  our dad talked about us.

When Jeff and I were in the Music Man in high school my dad proudly put a sign on his car and rigged up a loud speaker on the top  and drove around town with  76 Trombones blaring. He kept all my writings and never missed a recital or performance of anything.

When I was a student at Indiana University, my dad was traveling on the road and delighted in surprising me by popping, unexpected, into my dorm . My dad adored us, raved about us. I think we were his world.

Because my dad loved to be proud of me I would try to find things to make him proud. That is when he seemed the happiest: when he was proud of his children. So I knew it. I knew without a doubt the very instant, the moment, the second I lost my dad.

There were little signs of erratic behavior, of stubbornness. But one day I went home to Michigan City and pulled something out of my suitcase that I knew would send my dad into ecstacy. I anticipated the pinkness of his face that accompanied kvelling (a Yiddish word meaning being so proud and happy that ones' buttons might pop off any minute!). But as I pulled out my brochure and handed it to my dad with an enormous smile of 'wait til you see this!' on my face, I froze. My dad flung the paper away and said,
"Look at this zipper. See. If you pull it this way it opens. If you pull it that way it closes."

I felt my mouth grow slack and the capillaries in my eyes contract. My lips froze and my tongue grew thick

He was gone. I lost my father.

It was a horrible five years. The ravages of Alzheimers, well, I needn't explain to those who have already faced it, and those who haven't can't even imagine.

My father. My wonderful, beaming, loving, proud, precious Father. I lost him. I lost him in my bedroom the day he showed me how the zipper worked.

Women with a Vision Reaches Out

 

Hi Folks.

 

1. I'd love to give to three areas. If you would like to participate please respond as I suggest.

 

A. To Fawn in Tennessee. Fawn is such a giver--so kind--always caring and reaching out. I don't know that I remember a year that she didn't house missionaries traveling through and some for several weeks. Through circumstances she is in difficult times involving health, emotions, and finances. Connie Meyer and I are leaving Friday morning to take mercy and comfort and 'community' to Fawn who  was part of Women with a Vision for years. I'd love to take her a love gift from Women with a Vision. Send a check  donation to me made out to address below and we'll take it to her from Women with a Vision with a note from you.  I'll be at Schmoozing on Thursday morning 10:30 at Bandana's and prayer dinner at my house Thursday evening 7:00---Connie will be there, too.

 

B. Rick and Maria Arnold. Rick and Maria were missionaries in India 7 years and have come back to the U.S. Maria is expecting their 4th. You may know that her 3rd was born with Spina Bifida. Rick is finishing his schooling at Covenant Theological Seminary. You may or may not know that when missionaries return it is VERY DIFFICULT. Support is often cut off. I would love to give them a financial gift to encourage them during this time. Send it to our post office box and we'll send it on from us with a note from you.

 

C. Obadiah Thiong'o Maina. Obadiah is a dear brother who is Kenyan and has a church there. He is the son of Bishop Samuel and Mama Theresa Thiongo . Obadiah  mentioned longing to have some materials on leadership. If you have good books to donate please bring them to a meeting. Let's aim for mid January to finish collecting and sending them off. Postage is whopping to mail to Africa so donations for that are welcome as well.

 

We are a not-for-profit ministry and this is a great time to get in on that end-of-year giving. You'll get a letter from us. We love you so much!  I love to reach out and bless and I know that you do, too.  These are REALLY good ground folks!  All three are on facebook so you can get to know them that way if you like: Rick and Maria Arnold, Fawn Bilderback, and Obadiah Thiong'o Maina.

 

PLEASE PRAY SAFE TRAVEL for us. I just had my car at Pit Crew this afternoon having the brakes tightened or moved--or whatever they do to brakes. So---clear roads, safe travel, powerful ministry in Tennessee with FRUIT THAT REMAINS. That our teaching will be GOLD AND SILVER--not even a trace of wood hay and stubble.

 

Send donations to Women  with a Vision P.O. Box 693 Florissant, MO 63032 and specify on a SEPARATE piece of papear where you would like your donation to go.

 

$_________ Fawn

$_________Rick and Maria

$_________Obadiah

 

With much love from Cheryl Skid

founder of Women with a Vision

helping women grow strong in the Lord and do exploits since 1983.

incorporated since 1985

 

Entering into Another's Pain

When I was in high school, my friend Judy's mother died of cancer. I never mentioned it. I didn't send a card, go to the funeral or give her my condolence. I pretended it didn't happen. Why? It wasn't that I didn't care. I thought it was horrible and spent sleepless nights wondering about Judy and her little brother and how they would manage without a mom.

I just couldn't go there. I couldn't enter into that pain. I was afraid that if I mentioned it Judy would suddenly remember, "Oh yeah. I forgot. My mom died." How ridiculous of me. Who could ever forget that her mom is no longer in the house, doing laundry, on the phone, or just there?

I may have been able to go my whole life without showing sympathy, without lending a hand, without listening to a heart but God had other plans.

Amy was in kindergarten so I just had Erica with me when I went over to Susan's house* to get the organic eggs and free-range chickens I had ordered from Mr. Rehmer. I'd never met Susan so introduced myself and Erica as we entered. Susan gathered my chickens and eggs and said, looking at Erica, "How old is she?" I told that her that she was three. Susan pointed to the mantle. "That's a picture of my daughter Bethany when she was three. I thought they were the same age."  I admired the photo and asked Susan how old Bethany was now and if she were in school.

"Bethany died of cancer the year after this picture was taken." There was no place I could go to get out of that pain. It was staring me in the face. I couldn't change the subject, walk away or make a joke (my usual way of dealing with unpleasantries.) I sat down and asked her about her daughter.

Susan's face filled with rage. "I did EVERYTHING I knew to do! I ate healthy foods during pregnancy, took no medications, nursed. I fed her only organic foods.  There is NOTHING I did wrong and Bethany died!  What does your faith have to say about that?"

Apparently word had gotten around that I was a believer.  Actually my faith was quite new at the time. I had accepted Jesus as my Savior when Erica was a year old. Instead of telling her about my faith, however,  I asked her about her daughter. I asked to see photos, to hear about cute things she did. I simply listened and entered into Susan's life. I entered her pain by listening to her tell me about the life of her child.

I got ready to leave feeling that I failed in offering a word of faith to the grieving mom. Susan stopped me and touched my arm. "I wish that I just could touch the hem of your garment! I wish that I just had a shred of your faith!"

My faith? I didn't share my faith. I just listened. I was simply a friend. I learned that day how to enter the door of pain.  No one SUDDENLY remembers her loved one died when we ask about things they did in the past. They don't forget; not for a minute. It is my experience that people love talking about that dear one, love getting out pictures and going over anecdotes.

I went back several times to visit Susan and to talk about Bethany. It was a blessing to me and a huge lesson that has kept me all these years since. I can enter the pain of another and it will never be a burden to me but a precious blessing to both of us.





*not her real name

How did a Jewish Woman Like Me Fall in Love with Jesus?

I grew up in a reform Jewish community with a rabbi whose entire family except for his wife and daughter had been killed in the Holocaust. He escaped after the urgent plea of a friend who said, "Get out!" Rabbi Richhter was brilliant and beloved. He was fluent in 8 languages. He was----rabbi! I had a longing for God as a child. I remember going to see Ben Hur with my religious school class. We had a wonderful teacher, Dan Goldman, who took us everywhere!  He took us to Christian Science church, to the Unitarian Church, to movies and to Chinese restaurants. I was twelve when I saw Ben Hur. I was stunned, struck, and motionless when I saw the encounter between Jesus and some others...a woman? a man? all I remember is the outpouring of love that flowed from Him and the longing that flowed from me. But I'm Jewish! Jewish girls don't believe that, so I put it out of my mind. We got back to Sinai Temple the next week and I asked Rabbi Richter what (looking back at it) maybe have been an offensive question. "Rabbi, why aren't there any real men of God anymore?" I followed it up with another question. "When are we going to learn about God?" Rabbi spoke eloquently about ethics, political events, societal issues--but I never once heard him talk about God. He looked at me with what I can just describe as sorrow. "Cheryl. You aren't ready to learn about God."

I went away to college and was in a dormitory with some Pentecostal girls who kept talking about the 'Spirit'. As a joke three of us went with her to church one evening. The pastor met us at the door. I'm sure they  had been alerted to the Jewish girl coming in. He pumped my hand and said, "We have so much in common with you people." I thought, "You have nothing in common with me." He asked us all to stand during the service and said, "Come on down. The baptismal tub is ready." I rolled my internal eyes and looked for the door. As my eyes scanned the room I saw women all over weeping on their knees and I thought, "What a homely bunch of weird women." Many years later I realized that those dear souls were praying for me!

On a trip home to Michigan City that summer I went to the LaPorte County Fair. A woman was handing out little books. She handed one to me as I passed. "Here dear. Here's a Bible." I barely glanced at her and said, "No thanks. I'm Jewish." She stepped closer and smiled broader. "Oh but dear. This Bible is especially FOR the Jews." I thanked her and as I turned the corner threw it into the trash.

Back at college I noticed a line in the newspaper. "Jesus loves the Jews. For more information call................" So I did. "Hello. This says Jesus loves the Jews. Is this true?" Then came the sweetest, gentlest voice. "Yes. Yes it is true. Dear are you Jewish?"  I said, "No!" and hung up the phone.

I  married  a Jewish man and  moved to Ohio and then to St. Louis. I was teaching French at McClure High School. There was a zany art teacher who was in the office at the same time I was during all-school testing. Because he was art and I was French we had no responsibility during testing. I noticed a piece of sculpture he held and said, "Oh! I love art." He asked me downstairs to see his classroom. The walls were filled with beautiful scenes which all showed pastel skies. When I commented on the lovely skies he said, "Cheryl three years ago I found the Lord Jesus Christ and made Him my Savior. He healed my marriage, got rid of my demons and totally changed my  life." I thought this guy was the height of crazy---even worse than the Pentecostal pastor. At least the pastor was in a church. This guy was spouting off about Jesus in a school of all places.

I left his room disgusted and couldn't wait to get home and report him for preaching in a school! I was driving home and got to Washington turning right onto Derhake and suddenly SUDDENLY SUDDENLY Jesus Christ was sitting in my passenger seat! It was He! There was NO DOUBT ABOUT IT! He spoke. He said, "I am Who they say I am. I am the Son of God."  I started sobbing! I was weeping and could barely see to drive. Jesus showed me scene after scene of when I denied Him. I said NO to Him at age 5 when I was saying prayers at night and said, "What if Jesus really IS Your son?" and quickly shook my head and said, 'No Jewish girls don't believe that. (click. onto the next scene)  The time I went to the Pentecostal Church and mocked the pastor's invitation. (click) The time I saw the scene of Ben Hur but knew He wasn't for me, a Jewish girl (click.) The time I hung up on the man from the newspaper. (click) The time I threw away the Bible at the state fair (click). It was relentless. Scene after scene. Denial after denial. I said, "Jesus I don't even know Who You are but I am following You the rest of my life." At that time I felt that following Him meant giving up my precious Jewish faith. But I chose. I chose Jesus. I chose Jesus even though I KNEW that I was going home to a Jewish husband who would be livid, would be calling Jewish parents who would be heart broken. I chose Jesus. But I have found out since then that I am still Jewish. I am  Jewish woman head over heels in love with Jesus!

Don't be ashamed if you're sad!

I was reading Isaiah 53 today. Jesus was a man of sorrows, acquainted with grief. These days artists are circulating popular and engaging sketches of a happy Jesus throwing babies in the air, surrounding Himself with friends, enjoying relaxed fellowship. These days people seem to make happiness a priority. Billboards sell products promising how 'happy' they will make us. Psychologists' appointment calenders are filled with people wanting to be 'happier'. Enter a church, "How are you!" We had better register 'happy' on our faces or we are suspect. 'Hmm. Been sinning? Into porn on the side? Not reading your Bible enough?' After all, Christians are supposed to have 'happy' as their trademarks. Yet Jesus was a man of sorrows, acquainted with grief. The Bible recorded that Jesus wept over Lazarus. I know a pastor that won't allow his congregation to weep at funerals! Honest! I was there! It was the funeral of a little girl who died of cancer. There were some tears and the pastor SHARPLY rebuked the child's loved ones for not 'celebrating' her death because she was with Jesus in heaven.  Jesus wept over Jerusalem. I have been in services where a famous evangelist said, "There's a wave of laughter moving across the auditorium! Don't you feel it?" No. I didn't feel it. Jesus wept. The Bible recorded two weeping incidents, but it also said that if we wrote all the activities of Jesus there wouldn't be room in the world for them (loose paraphrase but one of you can find the reference.) So could there be times that Jesus wept that are not recorded? I love that Women with a Vision is devoting one morning a week to dealing with deep heart issues that bring tears. There is nothing shameful about tears. The Word (somewhere) says that God keeps our tears in a bottle. When I am praying, meeting with Jesus, often--very very often I find myself weeping. I am so grateful that my heart is broken! I want to love Jesus so much...not a quick 'peck on the cheek and out the door' kind of love but a leaning into Him, listening to His heartbeat and never wanting to leave kind of love! No! I'm not starting a new trend of weeping nor judging those who are laughing! I love to laugh. I can even entertain people by being hilariously funny! But I never want to forget that Jesus was a man of sorrows acquainted with grief. He is acqainted with YOUR sorrow and YOUR grief.  Yes, Jesus took ALL every shred of our anxiety, care, shame, humiliation, sorrow, grief on the cross. We can walk in freedom from all of those negative emotions that can paralyze us.  BUT I never want to ignore those feelings. I want to grieve with those who are grieving. I even want to suffer with those who have lost homes and loved ones in disasters. I want to hold those who are barely able to put one foot in front of the other because of their own inability to stand. I want to help them to stand! That takes being ACQUAINTED with grief. That takes being willing to be in the company of women of sorrows. Dear precious loved one, if you are grieving or full of sorrows write to us! Write a message on our discussion board at Women with a Vision's facebook page and let women minister to your heart. You are loved! If Jesus was a man of sorrows acquainted with grief how dare we stay away from women who hurt!
Cheryl Skid
founder and president of Women with a Vision
P.O. Box 693 Florissant, MO 63032
cherylskid@gmail.com
facebook Women with a Vision
and Cheryl Samelson Skid

Sabbath Rest

Christian Educators of America published this devotional I wrote a couple of years ago. A teacher just wrote to thank me and that's how I found out! Here it is:

Scripture: Remember that the Sabbath Day belongs to me. Exodus 20:8 (Contemporary English Version)

Ah! It's Friday! What a relief to know that the five day week has come to an end.
Thank You Lord for a job that gives me two full days in a row with no busy-ness. Help me, Lord, to take advantage of Your Sabbath rest. I'm so aware Lord, that there are many workers who have to grab a Sabbath rest here and there. There are nurses, doctors, retail clerks, restaurant employees who have to work long hours and week-ends. For them there is no two day guaranteed Sabbath rest.
Lord, let me recognize distractions from that rest. Let me see things that can wait. Let me take for myself a nice stretch of time to just enjoy Your presence.
As I sit here on a Friday afternoon before anyone else is home, listening to the wind chimes outside my door, I rest. I rest here listening. I listen to the wind and the chimes and the quiet, and I listen to You. Father God, I ask that You restore my soul for next week and that no matter what course I'm teaching, You give me creative ways to teach what really matters to You! Help me find creative ways to teach kindness, courtesy, courage, good decision making. Help me point each student, parent, teacher, and administrator with whom I come in contact to my Source, to You.
Give me such a peace among chaos that people ask me, "What's your secret?" so that I can tell them. Restore me Oh Lord. Restore my soul and thank You, Lord, for my Sabbath rest.
Scriptures to study on Sabbath rest
Exodus 20:8, Exodus 20:11, Luke 6:1-5 Luke 23:56
Cheryl Skid
Christian Educators of America

Posted photos

I posted some photos on Facebook about the trip to Guatemala. Neil was fabulous in the kitchen. The staff and students loved his tortilla soup and home made rolls-and I love his guacamole. My teaching was SO well received! Afterwards the students wouldn't get up to leave! The Holy Spirit was so PRESENT that the students just stayed in their chairs and let Him continue to minister to them! I love my book they signed writing me notes in English, Spanish or a mixture of both. I would love more opportunities to minister to groups! I love it and I think they do, too.

Guatemala Adventure the beginning

The first time I visited Guatemala was in 1993 with our son Nathan when we went to stay with the founders of Hearts in Action, Suzanne and Mario Barbarczy and got to meet Lorena, a girl we sponsored through Compassion International. It was a thrill to see her school where they welcomed us with a big sign on the blackboard of her classroom. I just returned from  my 9th trip to Guatemala. I love the people, the countryside, the food. Just beautiful! This week I taught in a missions school and met a boy I've sponsored five years enabling him to attend the Jungle School on the Hearts in Action ranch. Neil worked in the kitchen. We had a fabulous time. I love ministering--especially to people so longing to hear the Word of God. Neil is great in the kitchen and made everyone want him to come back!  I will write details! I love writing. But now,I'm still so tired just having returned.. --need to get some rest

Guatemala Adventure!

This is new for me! Just am starting a blog! I will look forward to sharing my adventures with those who care to read them!