Needless to say, I had a nervous breakdown and really questioned my life. I trusted God; because, after all, didn’t He bless me with the job? Why did He seem so distant and quiet when I needed a solution to my problem? Despite the Lord telling me to leave the job, I chose to work in another department and ended up loving it and learning new skills to add under my belt.

  Within six months, I was promoted to another position in the security department. I was on cloud nine and felt accomplished and highly favored for the Lord shining His face upon me. However, during the next ten months, I endured much more hardship than ever before. I was making good money with benefits; but I couldn’t keep money (it was like water through my fingers); my health was deteriorating, and I was being warned that I was close to going into Congestive Heart Failure (CHF) and most importantly the home we were living in for the past five years was unlivable. We had to move, so we lived in a hotel for a time.

  I searched for a home for months, but I couldn’t find one reasonable enough for us. As I stated earlier, I was supposed to be leaving my job; but I couldn’t make sense of exiting a sure job to go to nothing.

  By June 2015, I had to voluntarily resign from my job due to false allegations. I had nowhere to run from there. I was devastated, and my trust in God waned. I’d been praying and fasting, all I kept coming up with was losses, heartache, and pain. I felt like an empty shadow of a person that was just existing daily and not living. I’d achieved many goals over the years with getting my master’s degree; therefore, I felt it wouldn’t take much for me to get a job especially with medical experience.

  I had a negative balance in my bank account with hardly any gas as I took my family to North Georgia, praying for everything to work itself out. I didn’t have any family up there, I went in hopes of getting back on track. Unfortunately, we ended up in a shelter with conditional housing, meaning, if I could get a job, they would provide housing. As simple as that task sounded, I couldn’t even get a minimum wage job.

  I harbored deep resentment and hate for the family and friends who blamed me for being in this situation. I had unforgiveness and regrets in my heart as I dealt with all the shoulda, coulda, woulda’s of my life.

  It was at this low point in my life that I began calling unto the deep, attempting to find my purpose in life. The “trust” I had in God was replaced with confusion. I didn’t understand why He wouldn’t just bless me with what we needed so life could go on as normal.

  2016 rolled in, I had gathered some of my Godly inheritance by utilizing my gift of writing. But that abundance was quickly overshadowed by sickness and homelessness once again by the end of that year. February 2016, we moved to Lagrange, Georgia. This was a nice quaint town with seemingly a lot of job opportunities and an overall nice place to raise a family. My oldest daughter got a job in the Food Service Department of the Kia Plant. We stayed in a church for a few weeks after our money ran out until we were able to move into our rental home. Again, I went on many promising interviews. Some offered to hire me on the spot, but then I wouldn’t hear from them again. Out of all my education and experience, none of that mattered.

  By September, I noticed my daughter wasn’t feeling well and was struggling to make ends meet. Early one morning, her Supervisor called to inform me that she was being rushed to the local hospital via ambulance because she fell in the freezer that had a leak from a dysfunctional freezer. She was six months pregnant, already having some complications and now this fall. She couldn’t get an x-ray, so they just gave her medications and sent her home. The General Manager sent her to the workers’ comp doctor. He was limited in what he could do even though she couldn’t walk without assistance nor sit down on her behind due to the fall.

  She never received proper treatment for the fall; therefore, I had to nurse her back to health until she delivered the baby. She had to leave the job because of the injury and didn’t receive any payments, so once again that left us with nothing. We had to move back to our hometown in Central Georgia. Shame followed me back to the place I once called home. Every time something bad happened, I was always led back to where it all began.

  I’d run from this small town to make something out of myself; not to come back and be worse off than before. I hid from everyone for a year and a half. I was disgusted with myself that I had to return to this place with little to no opportunities and a place that was encased with shame, secrets, pain, and struggles. Along with this baggage, I carried a wall of unforgiveness and bitterness that hindered the true release of my Godly inheritance.

  When God said, “trust” I wouldn’t have ever thought He meant trusting Him with the deep, dark recesses of my heart, mind, and soul that I’d stored away.

  The cost of my daily bread meant trusting God’s process of breaking and molding me into His likeness. My heart’s cry was no longer “I” but Christ that lives inside. I no longer cared about my own selfish means; but whatever the Lord wanted out of my life. I was a broken, willing vessel ready for the Lord to use me however He saw fit. I found myself praying, crying, interceding, declaring, conquering, decreeing and leaning more on God than I ever had. I was uncomfortable and tired of the way my life was going.

  I was getting desperate for work again; to start the ministry and business that the Lord was showing me as I sought more of Him. I went on countless interviews and was always rejected. My oldest daughter’s health progressively declined more at the beginning of 2017 due to her diabetes and hyperthyroidism. She was unable to work and care for herself and her children; therefore, I had to be a full-time caregiver while finding ways of staying afloat even though many employers turned me down while bills piled up. At the age of twenty-one, my daughter needed assistance to get around.

  I had no other choice but to trust in the Lord with all my might. I stopped thinking of the days to come and just focused on my daily bread. My trust was built on a daily basis and allowing the Lord to work out the rest.

  During these dark months of hiding and tending to my family, I drew closer to the Lord and leaned not on my own understanding. I no longer saw this season in the wilderness as a loss, but as a resting stop for all the Lord had stored up for me after this season. By the end of the year, my daughter didn’t need a cane or assistance, she began to live again after much prayer and fasting on her behalf.

  By January 2018, I was energized and ready to move forward in Jesus Name. I always fasted and prayed for clarity in every area of my life. For over 15 years, I’ve wanted to move out of state. Since no job opportunities were presenting themselves during the time I’d been in my hometown, I began applying for jobs in North Carolina. I was having great success with phone interviews, and housing didn’t seem like a problem.

  I felt God wanted us to take this leap with Him and trust the process. But in truth, I feared homelessness again and not having any way of recovering. But I also feared not taking this jump and remaining the same when He said to go.

  March 5, 2018, we were officially packed and ready to go. Everything that could have possibly gone wrong did on this day. The money we were supposed to receive, never showed up, and the little leftover was barely enough for us to make it to North Carolina.

  But my daughter and I had interviews for jobs and housing the next day. We’d been planning as much as we could for months; therefore, we figured our plan would come full circle. We just had to trust in God’s blessings.

  Now, to make a long story short, we ran out of gas most days, the interviews flopped, housing was an issue and affording a room for seven people was a joke. We resorted to sleeping in our van most days.

  Trusted family and friends helped us when they could, which went a long way. But I was so frustrated because this was the very thing I was trying to prevent; and yet, here we were struggling and functioning on empty again.

  It was still winter temperatures; therefore, during the night we had to bundle up tight and run our gas (fumes) to keep warm through the night. My oldest daughter and I would stay up and pray and wait for our daily provision from the Lord. One night, she went into Walmart, and an officer approached her and gave her $50. He also purchased some food for the children. He said that the Lord told him to give it to her and he wanted to be obedient. He didn’t even realize the depth of his giving to us because we actually had run out of gas.

  I wrote into a Facebook group for intercession for my family and myself. One night, as we were in a hotel parking lot, gazing at my children and grandchildren’s faces, I decided I’d fight sleep and bombard Heaven. I felt there was more for us and I wouldn’t be tormented by repeat afflictions of poverty. I contemplated suicide because I was so tired and fed up with this downward spiral. I was preparing my children in subtle ways so they wouldn’t suspect anything. I felt if I ended my life then just maybe they could get survivors’ benefits, at least that’s better than nothing and going around in circles. The enemy has a way of diluting the truth especially in your times of fractured identities in Christ.

  I read my Word and prayed. I prayed, and I cried. I called His Name and stained my face with tears of my hearts’ cry for help. I toiled in prayer, and my body was frozen solid from the falling temperatures, but I pressed in prayer because I needed immediate help.

  By that morning, I was tired, but I felt accomplished and waited with anticipation for what was in store for the day. We sat in a restaurant parking lot and waited. By 2pm, I received a two-minute video on FB Messenger from a group Admin on expecting miracles and shortly after I received a PayPal notification. The Admin messaged me and said the Lord laid it on her heart to bless us. She said that she felt the urge last night, but she waited. She then wrote a post in the group for others to sow into us. Someone even offered us a house, but it needed so many repairs until we wouldn’t be able to move in immediately (it would take months that we didn’t have).

  My family and I rejoiced for a while and continued pursuing jobs and a home. At this point, we were staying in a hotel. But one week, the hotel clerk told us we had to leave, even though we were pre-paid for another two days. The manager wasn’t there and to not start a ruckus we left with nothing.

  We contemplated going to a different state, somewhere, we’d never been before; but on the second day of April we found ourselves back in Georgia. We felt different this time, not defeated; but victorious, as if a blessing was waiting for us. Of course, upon returning, there were naysayers that disagreed and didn’t understand why we left and was unable to help us. I felt like a stranger hidden in plain sight. Washing up at public restrooms and sleeping in parking lots; all the while trying to look normal and not like what we were going through.

  I wouldn’t accept defeat this time around. I felt a shift after leaving that last time. By April 25th, I had been offered a job at the local hospital, and since I couldn’t find a suitable school for my teen daughter (especially without an address) her grades and behavior spoke for themselves, and the staff worked with her to catch her up. She is now in her senior year of high school and has her first job at McDonald’s.

  Even though we were home, a few people still refused to help; but God always provided our daily bread. I work the night shift, and my family would sleep in the parking lot. One night, a friend of mine asked did we need help, no questions asked and got us a room for a few days and gave us gas for the car. We went back to our church home. I broke down and told them what was going on. They offered prayer and labored with us—-no judgment at all. After church one Sunday, they cooked us a hot meal and got us a room for a while. Even though I was working now, it was tedious trying to find suitable housing for all of us. Despite days of no gas or money, we pressed our way through.

  On May 19th after leaving work, I was having chest pains, shortness of breath, numbness on my left side and red streaks on my swollen legs and feet. I’d monitored my blood pressure at work, and it was high along with my pulse. I’d taken the medications that I’d been on for the last four years, it wasn’t helping.

  I went to the hospital expecting to be treated and sent home. Instead, I was urgently admitted into the hospital with a suspected diagnosis of Congestive Heart Failure. Since it was the weekend, they chose to monitor me and scheduled a stress test for that Monday morning. I laid in that hospital bed looking back over my life at the things I’d yet to do, places to see, foods to taste, lives to change. But most of all, I wanted to be with my children and grandchildren as they aged and matured. Things happened at this most inopportune time because we were still living in the truck and barely had gas and I was in a hospital 30 minutes away from my hometown.

  Finally, the morning arrived for the stress test. After receiving the test, I put on my clothes waiting for the Cardiologist to discharge me because I was doing better and felt I passed the test. The doctor came at 8 o’clock that night and gave me the results of my test. He said I failed it miserably and my electrocardiogram and stress test didn’t look good either; therefore, he had already scheduled me for an angiogram and I’d either get a stent or sent to Macon, Georgia for open heart surgery immediately. I felt as though all the air had been sucked out of the room. I was screaming on the inside, I’m only 39 years old with so much life to live. I certainly can’t have open heart surgery, and we’re homeless. What will we do? The following day I was supposed to be released, and my children came to the hospital. We prayed and declared healing over my body. My thoughts were all over the place. I made up in my mind that I was already healed, and the victory was already mine.

  I would complete all He has called me to do. When my family left that night, I sat in silence for a while and looked at myself hooked up to the IV pump and oxygen cannula in my nose. I had so much more living to do. I want to live my best life to the Glory of the Lord. I wanted to see my children grow older and enjoy my grandchildren more. Most importantly if I would’ve died, I’m assured that I would make it to Heaven. But my heart dropped, thinking of going to Heaven and not having anything to show for it. The Lord has bestowed many talents in me, if I haven’t done anything with it to bring the lost to Him, then I wasted my life.

  The next morning arrived quickly, and they began prepping me. The doctor was sure He saw something, and I’d go to Macon. I reveled in my heart, mind, and soul that God knows what’s best for me. “Behold, the Lord’s hands is not shortened, that it cannot save, nor His ear heavy, that it cannot hear.” (Isaiah 59:1) I trusted that God already knew this situation beforehand, it didn’t take Him by surprise, He’d considered me, and He already worked it out.

  The procedure began, as the doctor inserted the needle into my heart, He made a strange noise. Then, I heard him say, “I know I saw it here; let me keep going.” After several minutes, he came to me and said, “I know I saw something, and it wasn’t good, but now I don’t see anything.”

  “Glory, thank You, Jesus. You are the Lover of my soul.” I was healed in that very instant. I was told to control my diet, exercise, and my medications were changed. I was sent home four hours later.

  Our trust in God is stronger now than ever before. For we are convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

  We dealt with the cold breeze of North Carolina, then we had to deal with the heat wave of Georgia. By the Grace of God, June 12th, we received the keys to our home. We were able to get everything turned on in a timely manner.

  It’s true that everything works for the good of those that love the Lord. No matter the cost of your daily bread, trust that in the end, it’s for your good. When you feel as though your burden is too much to bear, release and allow God to be Lord in your life all by Himself.

  The process of being molded into His likeness isn’t easy. You will be talked about, lied on, and the list goes on because people won’t understand what God told you to do. Your trust in God must be deeply rooted and unrelenting in obeying as the Lord leads. I could’ve done some things differently to avoid so much hardship, but in the end, the cost of my daily bread has taken me to greater heights in the Lord. If I could redo anything we endured over the past four years, I would want to trust more in God’s ability to work things out for me and my family, rather than doubting Him and believing that He forgot about us.

  I would also not be so anxious, running here and there without the full knowledge of where God truly wanted to send me. Some of my decisions have caused harm to my family, but day by day my God is restoring us and healing our hearts. I now pray for clear direction. I want God to guide me in each and every decision I make. It is He who leads me toward my daily bread, and I am thankful.

  On An Angel’s Wing

  Sandra Boykin

  The sun kissed the ground that Tuesday morning in San Antonio. It was the first of four days set to celebrate the Trainees becoming United States Airmen, and my son Andreas was one in the number. My nerves were on edge, I was both excited and anxious to see him after the eight weeks he had been in basic training for the United States Air Force.

  At first, I thought the trip to Texas from North Carolina was going to be challenging, but I would’ve ridden the Greyhound bus if I had to; nothing but death would keep me away from the events surrounding this celebration. As it turned out I didn’t have to. God opened a window in my son’s heart, and he sent money for me to purchase my airfare and other accommodations. It was so surprising and unexpected that I couldn’t be more joyous! I had never traveled further than the State of Florida, so I was looking forward to seeing the city of the Alamo.

  The first procession was to begin early that morning, so to beat the crowds I started out two hours early. The drive to Lackland Air Force Base was a large backdrop of rural area, there were miles and miles of farmland but not much else to see. When I reached the gate at the base, there were two guards who came out to meet me, requesting to see the day pass that my son had sent. I was sure to keep everything handy, and after I was ushered through I could not believe how widespread the grounds were, there was no way to see one end from the other. As I approached the site of the Airman’s Run, I chuckled because it was already encircled by thousands of people! I guess I wasn’t the only one who had the mind to start the day out early.