i had one of those dreams you

don't ever want to awaken from

i had one of those dreams you

don't ever want to awaken from. I was, say

28 yrs. old. lithe and willowy and dressed in

wrinkled linen. a flower pinned in my hair.

a large room. somewhere in the south. packed

crowd who had hired my father to be their pastor.

that frightened me because he was so human.

so...i smiled. radiantly. holding a beautiful, frizzy-

haired little girl that we, as a family, had adopted...and

adored. love rained down. and i felt ebbulliant. captured

with joy. of course, my father had not spoken yet.



george clooney was even in the dream. eyes focused

on me. flirting. obviously, a fantasy. i haven't ever...even...

dreamed of a movie star. nor has one, i'm positive,

ever dreamed of me.



the sun slid into my bedroom.

spilling the reality that night was done.

over. and i awakened to reality. i am no

longer young. my children are 22, 23, 26, 27.

my hair has to be high-lighted. often, i am yanking

little white hairs from their roots.



the most beautiful, shivering joy that remains

unmarred is my pure passion for Jesus...and my

sons. every day, i search for opportunities to speak

the name of Jesus. so much POWER in just saying

His Name. and my children? i am the

richest lady on earth because i get to be the mother

of taylor, brock, colson, and brandt. we have had

so many hardships that not even silly contradictions

among us quiver with the raw, tight, coarse rope of love

that binds us. uh-huh!!! when one of my sons calls, and

i am on my way out the door. arms loaded with stuff, and

lots to get done. i stop. drop everything to the floor.

plop down. and listen. silently praying for God to guide

me in advising them. God's given us so MANY answers

and promises in those moments.



if you are younger than 55 yrs. of age,

listen to those who have walked much farther

down the road. shhhh. listen. hear the rushing

water of lessons learned. let the roar of trouble

lead you to those who have lived long enough

to know the ways of God. roar, waters, roar. then...

quiet us so we can hear and see and brush the

troubles far enough beyond us that the

music becomes a choir.



please forgive this blog.

i typed an original story of hope,

and realized that only the first few lines

were all that took hold. everything else was gone. disappeared.



don't let magnificent dreams

excuse you from the adventures

that can only be learned by the laid out

footprints of rugged, holy living. remember,

dreams can only live if they first die. and

sunrises come when we finally lay down our

sorrows, and keep our faces turned skyward.



Jesus lives. Jesus lives.

hallelujah, He reigns.

is someone reading this blog
have a perfect child? or someone who
believes he or she has perfected a piece of living?
being a parent. or wife. or writer or pro football player?

because,
i want to meet you or your child.
just to see what pefection looks like.

all my life, i have wanted to be perfect for
Jesus. strong enough to see my father happy
because, somehow, my brother would become
a Christian. and protect jan, my twin, from harm.
i vowed, in my young adult mind and heart, to never
disappoint the Lord. you know. to stand strong and faithful.
to stay pure until marriage. have an amazing relationship with
my husband, and deliver babies that were going to set the
world on fire for Jesus.

well, my babies were just about perfect. and
today, they are strong. resilient. unbelieveably
precious to me. but they are special because of
Jesus. never ever have i parented perfectly. and
NEVER will they make it without deep devotion to
the Savior. uh-huh...i've failed in almost everything
i had vowed before God to be.

BECAUSE WE ARE ALL BROKEN,
yep, every one of us.

but,
every morning, the sun rises.
every evening it slowly dips down
and touches the long, often golden horizon.

when we need food or friends or a touch
of sunrise in our lives, He provides. comes through.
makes a way. not because we are perfected.
NEVER. just because He so LOVES us. He tells us
to not seek great things for ourselves. that He loves
the meek and the broken. that He understands we are
dust. He knows our frame.

so, for all of you today,
living with the repercussions of disobedience
and sin, i sing to you. a beautiful song. of love and
redemption and the pure chords of deliverance.
you will find the music by reading psalm 91, the Living Bible.

i have messed up alot.
have gotten lost and confused.
but i know it is my difficult journey that
draws us together. i love you. let us sing
the song together. and listen for the roar of the
oceans and see the giant redwoods and laugh with
friends over even silly things, and utterly understand
that nothing is too hard for God. He lives. oh, yes,
He lives.

i believe.
i believe.

i believe when the sun
is not shining. when my prayers
seem unanswered. when i am misjudged
by others. when the rains come, and the
rivers are swollen, and my life is torn by
pain and inadequacy.

i believe that my children
will never be disappointed by God.
that what i have tried to live out for them,
and teach them, will stand steadfast in their
darkest hours. their entire lives.
that His love will pursue them in places
shadowed by disobedience or failure.

i believe that God is love.
and when i am weak and broken and sinful,
He still celebrates my life. that my sins are
really buried in the deepest, dark places of
cold oceans and seas. vanished and forgotten.
that He is so good and so omnipotent that He never
sways in His love for us.
never. ever. ever.

i believe that God makes up
for all our injustices. that if we have faith,
as tiny as a speck of sand, He will honor it.
He will expand our horizons, and surprise us
with beautiful tomorrows.

i believe that a clear, morning sky
and a stunning, setting sun are God's
creations. that He is greater than all earthly
boundaries, and the Heaven of heavens.
He cannot be contained.

i believe in faith.
in the simple confidence that
God is who He says He is. and
that He will do everything He promises.

i believe in dreams.
that God plants them in our hearts.
and if we never, ever give up,
they will live. that we should stand,
and turn our faces to the sky. and lift our
arms. and shout and yell. and cheer and dance
because He is a glorious God. who loves to give
His children good gifts.

i believe we are in a Race.
all running, side-by-side. along
the often narrow and chastising road,
to the Celestial city. i believe we should
grab hands. and pick each other up when
we fall, and whisper hope even when our
spirits are down and we are weary of the
twists and turns of life.

i believe that if we abide in Him, He will
abide in us, and mountains will quiver and
be leveled. and paths will open through the
deserts. and we can walk on water, and not
drown.

YES!
i believe.
in a Savior who lived and died for our sins.
and because of Him, we are free. free. untangled
and delivered from ourselves and our addictions.

"how precious is the Flow
that washes white as snow...
no other Fount I know.
nothing but the Blood of Jesus..."
(old hymn of the church)

please.
believe, too.

"i have finished the Race.
i have kept the faith." 2 timothy 4:7

i looked, and found, a
celebrate recovery group close by.
the Christian version of AA. for me,
when i attend a meeting, i go to do
WORK. on myself. my struggles. my
bent to addictions of performance and
praise and pain pills. i call it doing
BUSINESS.

this night,
there was a new woman in
the group so we went around to
introduce ourselves. the circle came
to me.

hi! i'm ann.
an addict. and
probably, like each of you,
genuinely broken by life,
and my human bent to
fix things on my own terms.

sharing started.
my name is....., and i am
a shoplifter, with many convictions
behind me. i need prayer as i get
ready to go before the judge with my
latest offense.

next:
i am an alcoholic,
among other things. i am
really struggling. every night,
God says to me, "go to bed
with your husband."
but i like this t.v. program. or...
i'm not tired. or...i just don't want to.
God keeps calling me, and i keep resisting.

my name is lindsay (not real name).
i'm an addict with an anger problem.
pregnant, and very impatient with my
three year old daughter. my husband
comes in from work. blood-shot eyes.
tense. exhausted. not always very nice,
either. i need prayer. i just know how
hard it is going to be when this baby comes,
and i'll also have a toddler running around.

it is quiet.
earnest. big, black boots
of fear and failure and terror start
rolling around. stomping.
making noise inside our heads. telling us
to be quiet. that the great shame that
owns us needs to stay inside us.

my name is rosie. i'm an alcoholic. i've hooked
up with EHARMONY because i don't want to
be alone the rest of my life, but then i keep
asking myself if any guy will want me if they
know of the gay relationships in my past.
tears glistening in her eyes.

all of us so broken that we cannot
imagine even holding the mildest judgement
toward each other in the circle.

a tiny seam of light flickers. the whisper
that deliverance can be ours. God promises...if
we fully grasp that we are POWERLESS in and of
ourselves...and look to Him, the ONLY Power greater
than ourselves...then we can find hope. we are all enslaved, and Jesus,
beautiful and pure, listens. to our ragged, raw breathing
slicing through the thick enslavement of ourselves.

well, i am ann.
i flew to a speaking date
last week, and instead of
receiving my negotiated fee with
the speakers' bureau, the sponsor coldly handed
me a check that was just pitance for my
flying across the country to speak. i
was rushed out of the large church,
tears streaming down my face. stunned.
hurt. no, devastated. i'm struggling financially,
but worse was the feeling that i wasn't worthy
of my assignment. never once, in my thirty-plus year
career of speaking and writing, had this happened.
i feel like a worm. no good. as with
others, tears began to balance on the lids of my
eyes, and i was trying to hold onto them. to NOT
reveal how deep this wound felt.

psalm 91:1, 2, 4, 14, 15
"He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High
will rest in the shadow of the Almighty....
He will cover you with His feathers, and
under His wings you will find refuge;
His faithfulness will be your shield and rampart...
I will deliver him and honor him..."

keep marching, warriors.
do not let fatigue and failure
lure you to hopelessness.
the Son shines for us. the warmth
healing our deepest hurts and failures.

ann kiemel anderson

colson berry anderson
married christina, and took,
as his own, her beautiful, baby daughter.
in a small cove by ocean waves above san
francisco.

brandt, his brother, was best man.
and i held my one grandbaby, colben,
sitting next to my first daughter-in-law,
jasmine.

taylor and brock were proud of both
their younger brothers. speaking love
and commitment to them. i sat, with humble
gratitude at the amazing way God's vast love and
grace have followed us through so many beautiful
AND tumultuous years as a family.

roar, oceans, roar,
shine, glistening sun, shine.
and may rewards come.....and
surprises live....as we toil,
day in and day out of our ordinary lives,
tangled in extraordinary adventures and
struggles.

i'm a softie as a mom.
will believed that almost everything should
be absolute, and i have always held to only a few
absolutes, but many negotiables.
two years ago, colson was home. smart. clever.
a genius as a salesman and a writer, but he wasn't
going anywhere. he announced, one day, that he was
moving back to modesto. another quick decision.

okay, colson.
but you cannot come home when it gets tough.
i spoke with tears in my eyes, and silent prayers of
deep resolve. one evening, he called.

mom, it is pouring rain, and i am
cold and hungry and i have no money. will you
please come and get me?

oh, honey, i'm sorry. i'm just walking into a
prayer class. find a bathroom somewhere, and
get on your knees and pray. tell Jesus what you need.

YOU MEAN YOU ARE NOT GOING TO COME GET ME?!!!
you are going to LEAVE me here like this?!!!

tears running down my face, i calmly said,
yes, darling. it is just you and Jesus out there.
today, he tells a sad story (makes me feel horror and pride)
of being homeless. sleeping on a bench some nights.
it was the most difficult, hands down, task I had EVER taken
on. forcing colson to find his way in this big, hard world.

he went to colorado. via train. for awhile.
back to modesto. a hard worker. had good jobs.
and when anyone peeled back the rough exterior, there
could not be a sweeter, more honest and loving heart than
colson's. he KNEW God. he had a moral conscience. and
he would vulnerably confess things to me. i would chew the
inside of my gums, but be silent while he talked. hugging and
kissing him after, and reminding him that some day, i felt he
would run my ministry of dreams and changing the world
for Jesus.

well, colson perservered. and i did.
i loved and pushed and prayed. hanging onto his shirt
for all my might, but not letting him come home except for
a family get-together or a week-end. and i would cry and cry.
but he could not hear me.
he did not know. God was
helping me make a man out of my son.

so, when april 23 came, and colson, with christina's father's,
and my blessing, married, i threw balloons through the air.
i laughed at the sun. i danced on all the trials and sins and temptations
colson had conquered, and i wrapped my arms around another
beautiful daughter-in-law and a new, grandbaby girl. buying her
ballerina slippers and lots of pink.

and i knew that my son, and i,
and his brothers, understood
better than ever before, that Jesus died and lives and
always, always, always promises
bright, happy tomorrows after the
darkness of hardships.

glorious Savior.
beautiful grace.
the glory of motherhood, and the suffering, too.
believe! believe! believe!
stay on course and watch the lip of the horizon
as it rises and sets, finally, on your dreams.

hit the wall.
drop the jar.
touch a hot iron.

listen to the noise of chaos.
hear the cries of pain.
feel the torch of rejection.

and stand. quiet and still.
feet flat on the ground.
paint the glory of the Cross
on your forehead. your breath
even and calm while life shakes
and rattles around you.

nothing about growth and faith
and hardship is easy.
nothing.

it is late Saturday night.
my day started with the early
service at church. then, lunch with
a friend.
and a quick drive to san francisco
to see jan. whatever positive and beautiful
and kind that I could put into today is over.

did i smile at those around me?
grab a warm hand and squeeze it?
feel no judgement for anyone?
only love and compassion and hope?

we live in such a critical, judgemental
society. and more Christians are addicted
to judgement than anyone else in the secular
world.

life can rattle and shake
all around us, but Jesus is our Conqueror.
our steadfast Hope. the music of His songs
still the waters and renew our urgent
longing for deliverance from ourselves.

remember,
we are warriors. Jesus is our passion.
and we march together. deliverance shines
on our faces.

i love the artistic, beautiful, little house
i rent from my friends whose
large house in front is theirs.

and, yes, i am hopelessly smitten with my
three month old grandbaby. my daughter-in-law,
who i truly love, is being deployed to dubais for
four months (brandt was deployed to bagdad a year ago),
and i get to take care of colben. he has a head of
black curls. smiles. blows bubbles. and tries to
carry on a conversation. all at 3 months.

let's not judge anyone.
love is the ONLY hope.
love! so simple and clean and
pure. always believing God has
the real picture of all our hearts so
He can do the judging and we can
love unconditionally.

fight the good fight.
stay the course.
i love you.

proverbs 3:5-6