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