I don’t need donuts. I need you to show some compassion and consideration.

  The Officer-In-Charge let her borrow a raincoat. She would owe him a cup of coffee the next day. She shielded her purse and shoes beneath the heavy coat. They nearly escaped when she jumped at the sight of a huge toad near her car. I really should have gone to the bathroom before I got out here in this.

  No stray cows or horses were roaming the access road tonight. At least she hoped not. She followed the rear lights of the cars ahead of her. The lump in her throat pulsated when her unknowing escorts turned south. She could only see silhouettes of signs, but memory told her it was time to turn right. Lights blinked in her direction as she straddled the middle of US 301 North. Sniffles erupted into tears. Her bladder wanted to unload, and the sound of the wipers rubbing across the windshield at maximum speed made her dizzy.

  She knew better, but it sure looked like she was in a sleet storm. In the darkness, the thunderous rain appeared white. She cried out, “Dear Lord, please get me home safely. Please, Lord Jesus!”

  Her mind replayed how years earlier she had reduced her speed during a rainstorm in Tampa. It was around four-thirty in the afternoon when she passed accidents and thanked God she was almost home. As soon as the praise entered her mind, the rains became blinding. Rita wanted to press her way. Her car didn’t cooperate. She knew she was hydroplaning but couldn’t remember what the driver’s manual said to do about it. She didn’t realize her eyes were closed until the car stopped moving. She was in a ditch. She walked nearly a mile to the nearest payphone to call her automobile association. It would be at least two hours before she could be rescued, and she needed to be with her car. Afternoon turned into nightfall as she waited; drenched and downtrodden. Why didn’t God answer my prayer? After all, in His Word He says; Before they call I will answer; while they are still speaking I will hear (Isaiah 65:24).

  When the tow truck driver arrived, he had the same dirty red hair, oversized belly and tobacco-stained teeth she had learned to fear as a child. A scantily clad woman was with him. He instructed Rita to climb into the truck while he attached chains to her car. She feared the filth in the cab would attach itself to her. Once her car was resurrected from its temporary muddy grave, Rita stood in the rain a few more moments to wash away the impurities from that truck. At least she wasn’t physically hurt.

  Tonight, was even worse than that afternoon she skidded into a murky ditch. Traffic signals were down intermittently on US 301. Rita had canine ears as the wind howled. Keyboards, electric guitars and drum beats blared from the radio. She couldn’t take it anymore as the sounds created a symphony with the rapid thumps of her heartbeat. She silenced the radio. The rise and fall of her chest strained against the seatbelt. Her temples felt like fishing hooks were pulling her flesh in opposite directions. The pain was excruciating. She was certain she would pass out. Strength was fleeing her body. Her legs shook although her bladder no longer yearned for release. When she heard, “He’ll never leave you alone,” Rita feared she was losing her mind. The radio was still off, and she had no passengers. She gripped the steering wheel tighter and cried out in the darkness. “Lord Jesus, I need you right now!” She heard it again. “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid (John 14:27).

  The tractor-trailer behind her was too close.

  Why is he on my tail blasting his horn? He can just go around me if he’s in that big of a hurry.

  Suddenly, it was beside her. She didn’t want to die this way. The Klan was active in Riverview. Anger wrestled with fear. Benjamin should have let me stay with Helena. She’s not like the other white people he deals with.

  The honking continued. Rita’s hands trembled. Her legs shook. She panicked when she saw something extending out of the driver’s window. She was sure she was hallucinating when she saw an arm motioning for her. Another honk. She couldn’t identify the driver. Nevertheless, her grip on the steering wheel was tenser as the truck moved ahead of her. The splash temporarily put her in total darkness. Another honk.

  If this big truck is going to ride down the middle of the road, nobody is going to stop it. I might as well follow it as far as it goes.

  Eerily absent was law enforcement. No state trooper. No sheriff deputy. No police. No one patrolling those dangerous streets. No warnings about the possible danger ahead. An occasional siren blared in the distance. Rita prayed ambulances responding were transporting victims, not corpses. She admonished herself for that thought. It couldn’t be her time.

  Rita shifted in her seat. She exhaled and relaxed the stranglehold on her steering wheel. An occasional porch light poked through the steady downpour. Approximately ten miles from the institution lights were flickering inside a convenience store. Her stomach growled. The yellow rice and chicken she ate for lunch were long gone. It was much too late for a full dinner, so maybe she should be thankful for the donuts awaiting her. Another honk. This time she returned the greeting.

  The tractor-trailer driver and Rita played honk-tag for the next five miles. Her Ford Escort kept pace. That’s odd. I can see this truck, but where did all the other cars go? There were plenty when I first left Hillsborough. Rita smiled for the first time since leaving work. Her breathing no longer echoed inside her car. She knew her God had not forsaken her. A calm that surpassed all understanding overtook her as she followed the tail lights in front of her.

  Three loud blasts from the truck’s horn pierced the night before the truck’s left turn blinker winked at her. Rita swerved slightly to the left. No panic this time when she saw something hanging out of the driver’s window. It was another signal. She recognized it. It was a wave.

  As soon as the tractor-trailer made a left turn, Rita shouted, “Thank you, Jesus!” In her view was a fully-functional stop light. It was the last one before she turned into her subdivision.

  It’s after ten o’clock when she found the closest spot to their apartment to park. She was shivering as Benjamin opened the door. He looked at her in amazement.

  Ninety minutes ago, Rita had been a nervous wreck. She’d had thoughts about her husband that she knew had been birthed in fear. He wasn’t totally off the hook, but none of that mattered. She had experienced the presence of God in a mighty way when she needed Him the most. Right there, in the middle of their living room, something got ahold of her. It felt like fire shut up in her bones. Her left arm stretched across her belly as if that could contain it. As she bowed beneath the power, her right arm extended to the heavens. Rita began to moan as tears streamed down. Benjamin had witnessed this before when God delivered his mother-in-law from a stroke. He could only stand by this time as the outpouring of the Holy Spirit filled the room.

  Praise the Lord, my soul; all my inmost being, praise His holy name (Psalm 103:1). Rita’s body rocked back and forth. Every time her right hand thrust upward, she shouted, “Thank you, Jesus! You’ve been my protector and my deliverer. Oh, I just want to thank you. I love you. I love you, Lord!”

  Benjamin rushed to his wife’s side when soft moans replaced the louder praise, and he saw her body relax. He scooped her up. He spoke no words as he held her in his arms until he lay her on their queen bed. Compassion, not passion, radiated in his hazel eyes. That was the intimacy Rita had craved last night.

  “You’re drenched.” Benjamin removed her shoes, then tugged at her pants. The dampness kept them hostage around her hips. Rita pushed them down into his hands. He dropped them atop her shoes. Her glasses were somewhere on the living room floor, so her blouse was over her head in one motion. Benjamin retrieved one of her favorite robes. The pink, blue and white paper-thin robe was a high school graduation present from her grandmother. Rita laughed when Benjamin abruptly turned away from her. “I better go. I’ll go get the coffee going while you finish getting undressed.”

  Rita slipped on the robe and joined her husband in the dining room. Her favorite coffee cup was already full, and the lemon filling was oozing from her donut. Both would have to wait. Her voice was a pitch higher when she leaned toward Benjamin and placed her hand on top of his.

  “Baby, let me tell you about the angel on my tail that got me home safely tonight.”

  Rita knew without a doubt that God had dispatched His angel to earth to protect her in the raging storm. Her guardian angel had commanded a tractor-trailer on US 301. Just as God reminded the Israelites of his presence with them in Exodus 23:20 when he said, “I am sending an angel ahead of you to guard you along the way and to bring you to the place I have prepared,” he did the same for her. Her angel also ministered to her with the reassurance that God had not forsaken her and had heard her plea. His written word came alive as she truly came to know Him once again as an ever-present help in her time of need.

  She didn’t recognize it at the time, but God had reminded her of His forever goodness toward her earlier at work. When that inmate who once was an eighteen-year-old adversary walked into her office, she had remembered the physical attack. She had been dazed, disoriented, her vision was blurred, and the headache was worse than any she’d ever felt. Though she had suffered harm, her life was spared. One direct hit by a metal bat, instead of just a fist, could have killed her instantly. In the natural, she never saw angels encamped around her, but after tonight, she was convinced they had been her protection.

  And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age (Matthew 28:20).

  Robin R. Pendleton attained her Bachelor of Arts in Psychology from the University of North Carolina, Master of Arts in Criminal Justice from the University of South Florida, and Certification in Public Management from Florida State University.

  As a Christian, Robin strives to operate in the fullness of the gifts God has given her. She is a member of Mount Bethel Ministries in Fort Lauderdale where Bishop C.E. Glover is the Senior Pastor. She serves in the Women’s Ministry, Children’s Ministry (Nursery) and the Kingdom Entrepreneurs Ministry. In April 2017, she was chosen to be the ministry leader for the newly formed Mount Bethel Book Lovers Life Group. Robin has been faithfully serving the Lord since being baptized at nine years old.

  Dream Angels

  Karen Deslandes

  The problem with death is that life goes on. At the very same moment that your world seems to have frozen in place, the rest of the world is still moving at the same pace it has always moved. It seems that no one is aware of the profound impact this loss has had on me. The house still needs to be cleaned; bills need to be paid; children still need our attention; spouses have needs; bosses want their reports. However, I have changed, and I wish the world would stop, take notice and acknowledge that things will never be the same in my world.

  Most professionals agree that the five stages of grief are denial, anger, depression, bargaining, and acceptance. In our lives, at one point or another, we will experience one or more of these stages. It can be something such as the death of a loved one, the breakdown of a relationship, moving away from family and friends, losing a job, the loss of a friendship, coping with illness, financial difficulties and loss. Whatever it is, we will experience the grief of some magnitude.

  For me, at some point in my life, I had heard of and read about the stages of grief. I’d made a note of them when I’ve seen other people struggle through the stage of denial.

  Little did I know that very soon, I would be taking a roller coaster ride through the stages of grief myself. And what a ride it would be, but I’m thankful to know I wasn’t alone. God was always there with me. During the times when the pain would become too much, God would find a way to comfort me through others. At other times, He would guide me, as I processed my grief, through the gentle reminders He conveyed to me in my sleep through dreams. It was through these dreams that God would remind me of something I had lost sight of. In facing one of the greatest losses of my life, I would also come face to face with the one who was always there – God.

  Hearing His Voice

  As far back as I can remember, God has always spoken to me through my dreams. This has been the most profound way God has talked to me. I’ve concluded it must be because this is the time when I am still and have no distractions. Whenever there is an event about to take place that will impact my life as I know it, the revelations have come to me in a dream.

  I had two distinct dreams when I was about sixteen that made me realize that dreams were one of the ways God communicated with me.

  Dream

  I was walking to school with my friend, Mary. She fell to the ground and was having a seizure. As I knelt to try to assist Mary, she looked at me and said, “I have to go away.”

  When I woke up, there were tears coming down my face, but I wasn’t panicked. Mary had had seizures before, but I didn’t think this meant she was going to die or was gravely ill. I didn’t know what it was at that moment, but my heart didn’t sense death.

  As we were walking to school that morning, Mary stopped me.

  “I have to tell you something,” Mary said to me, not making eye contact.

  As I watched Mary struggling for the words to say to me, it became clear what my dream had meant.

  “You’re moving, aren’t you?” I asked as I sighed.

  “Yes,” Mary said, as she hung her head.

  I was sad because Mary and I had become very good friends. We hugged each other and cried. As most people do, we promised to stay in touch. That didn’t happen, but I was okay. God had let me know through my dream that that season of friendship for me was coming to an end.

  Dream

  I was standing at the edge of a dark pit in the ground. It was wide enough for two cars to park in the open space in the ground. I kept seeing women I knew falling into this pit. As they were falling, I could hear their screams. I was standing at the edge crying, as I looked down to see if I could still see them. I would try to reach out to pull them back up, but they were too far down.

  Even while I was awake, I could still hear the screams of the women. I remember taking the bus to work one day, and a beautiful woman walked down the aisle past me. On the outside, she looked beautiful, but all I could see was the darkness on the inside. As she sat near me, I could hear the same crying that I heard in my dreams. I shut my eyes, hoping that if I didn’t look at her, I could drown out the sound as well.

  It would be years before I totally understood what this dream meant. I knew I was meant to work with women, but I didn’t have a clear picture of what that would look like. At the time, I thought it meant I was supposed to be a preacher. I had even gone to my pastor to let him know that I felt a call from God on my life. Back in the 1980s, if you felt a call of God on your life, you became a preacher. I realize now that ministry has many different looks.

  My Long Season of Discontent

  My parents had taken me to church since I was a baby. My entire family was heavily into the church. I committed my life to God as a young teen. I knew how to be a good girl and follow all the rules.

  Yet, at the age of thirty, I found myself divorced, with two children, angry, broken and bitter towards the church I had been attending.

  I tried attending different churches, but because of the bitterness I held onto, my focus was no longer on God. I allowed the actions of people to turn me away from the church for a long time. My heart had grown cold towards the church and in turn God.

  As far as the church goes, I remained stuck in anger for a long time. I realize now that Satan will use whatever device is available to get to you (Ephesians 4:26, 27). The anger that I wouldn’t let go of was the opening that was used to keep me stuck. By holding onto my anger, it affected every decision I made from that point on. I walked away like “I tried to do everything right and look what it got me.” I suffered abuse, betrayal and lies all in the house of God. I was done and felt justified in my doneness.

  I thank God for the prayers of my family. It is because of those prayers that I was never able to stray too far away from God. However, I no longer wanted to be ‘friends’ with God. I was very intentional about making sure that God and I remained familiar acquaintances, but my walls remained up, surrounding me in a dark place for a long, long time.

  When My World Came Crashing Down

  It’s amazing to me how we live our lives day to day, not seeming to realize just how fleeting life can be. Life can change on a dime, and what was once important becomes trivial. Some of the things we take for granted becomes precious.

  My husband, Steven, and I made plans to spend the night at my parents’ house in New Jersey. Steven had a meeting early the next morning in New Jersey and didn’t want to travel the hour and a half it took from our house in Pennsylvania. I liked when our work situation allowed us to spend extra time with my parents. I always let my mother know we were coming so she would be prepared. I didn’t always tell my father so that I could surprise him.

  Normally when I walked in my parents’ house, I immediately looked to my left to see my father sitting in his brown recliner, watching television. On this day, when I walked in, my dad seemed extremely tired. I walked over and kissed him on the forehead.

  “Hey Baby,” he groggily responded. “What are you doing here?” Then he nodded back out. As I responded, he opened his eyes momentarily.

  “Steven has to work late tonight and again early in the morning, so we’re going to spend the night,” I said.

  He smiled. “Oh, Stevie is coming too,” my dad responded, and drifted back to sleep.

  He slept most of the time I was there. Normally, we would chat as we watched old westerns or Law and Order on television. Not this day. My dad seemed lethargic.

  My dad woke again when Steven arrived but mostly slept. At some point in the night, I watched him head into the bedroom with my mother for the night.