motherhood is beautiful

and hard and, often, way over

my head. especially when it

comes to tough love.



one of my sons lives in a city

close by. he is handsome, brilliant.

can talk to anyone, and write circles

around me.



but living skills?

keeping his word?

meaning to, but doing it is

another story altogether.



i drove to where he lives

ten days ago because he was

needing a bicycle. his walking

to work, two hours a day, demoralized

me, to say nothing of him.



so, i picked him up.

took him to o'brien's market

for his favorite, tri-tip sandwich,

and headed to walmart to check out

bikes.



mom! i have a great idea!

we could use your bank card,

and get me clear-wire service for

my computer. it's only $29 a mo!

well...it goes up to $44 after three

months.



BUT, mom, i have a job, and i

could pay you every month. like,

today is wednesday, and i get paid

friday. i'll give you the first month then.



for a brief moment,

my brain decided to sit on a shelf

somewhere, and i went along

with him. we bounded into the

clearwire store. i asked if we had time

to test it and return it. yes, one week.''



i laid my card on the counter, and we

walked out. tall and proud. i had the happiest

son in the world.



well, friday came, and i called about my

first payment. our agreement. his words

began to slide through me with a chill. a

dark realization. this utterly-amazing son

of mine, finding it hard to navigate life. not

doing what he said he wiould do, had just

displayed his life-worn behavior.



darling. you are an adult.

do NOT tell me you will do something

if you aren't. a person's word is his

character. shapes the form of his life

journey. establishes trust or negates

it.



BUT YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND, MOM!

i bought $50 wowrth of minutes for my phone

so you can always reach me.



AND,MOM, i was so lonely.

so down. so i took a nice girl

(you would REALLY like her!)

on a date.



honey,

the first month, and you already

have failed on your word.



i walked around for two days.

disgusted with myself. my son

does not drink or smoke or do drugs.

his addiction is a specific game online.



i knew better.

again, in a subtle moment of weakness,

(after all, we, as a family, had been through

the wilderness and the flood), i had created

a mess for myself.



and i knew

i'd face hell for

my decision.



day seven arrived.

i drove to where my son

lives, and knocked on the door.

i asked him for the clearwire box

and chords. within moments,

i was scorched by the heat of

rage spewing everywhere.



you are not worthy to be a mother.

you are worse than my worst girlfriend.

ouch! his girlfriends are the bottom-of-the-list girls.

i don't ever want to see you again.

i am going to change my last name.

i am no longer in this family, and i don't

want to EVER again be your son!!



i'll leave out the most choice words.

nasty, and outside my vocabulary.



listen, honey, i know i've not been perfect.

i know i've failed you. will you forgive me?



NO!! NEVER!!



well, no matter what,

i'm taking the box back to

the store. of you can't keep

your word the first month,

there's no question i can't depend

on it.



finally, i quietly walked next door

to the woman in charge of the program.

with young people, 18-21, chosen.

to teach life skills. free counselling. etc.

i needed support. i meant business, and

every single second of this scenario was

excruciating. if i wilted now, all the

tough love i'd doled out for the last 8 mos.

would go down the tube.



i'm a lover. let's be happy.

for the first time, ever, i had

stuck to my guns. unbending

to the schrewed manipulation.



the director

walked out with the box.

i cried, and thanked her for ALL

she was doing for my son.



ann, give him time. it'll be okay.



it sure didn't feel okay.



as i was almost to the freeway

for home, my son called. sobbing.



please don't get on the freeway, yet.

i didn't mean all those horrible things i

said, mom. you and i are close. right?!

i know i'm the black sheep in the family, but...



you are NOT the black sheep in our family.

not for one single second has that thought EVER

entered my mind. i'm so proud to be your mom.

i utterly believe in you. you are my son with

a calling on his life.



i drove back to where he lived.

we stopped and bought two of his

favorite dvd's he could watch on

his computer, and some groceries.



if we don't learn to stand

by our word growing up, then we

are adults still playing the same games.

still manipulating. we become grown-ups,

doing the same games, but more polished.

smoother. easier to dress ourselves in ways

not noticed at a glance.



i wish every morning had a clean,

summer sky. but they don't. some

days the wind swirls. thunder roars. people

have foul moods.



that is what the Redeemer, the Savior,

is all about. redemption. cleansing of

the carnality we are born with.



tough love.

it is not pretty.

but it is the foundation

of our destinies. we owe

it to our children to live through

the pain...to the other side...so

God can depend on us to be

His disciples. His world-changers.

"commend me to a bruised brother, a
broken reed. for the Man of Sorrows is never
far from him." robert murray mccheyne

hmmmm.
bruised and broken.
like Jesus. our goal.

can i keep the devil from taking
my song? pastor bobby's
words still ring in my ears.

plant my feet
on the Solid Rock.
held steady by Jesus.
when the storms roar, and
i sway in my pain, may the song
live!

the business goes under.
you lose your job. someone you
love more than you love yourself
dies. can the devil take our song?
can't let him do it.
can't let him win.

it was a normal week day.
i drove to modesto to see my
doctor. picked up a steaming-hot
bowl of cheesy-potato soup to go.
cradled the bowl, with a plastic lid,
deep in my lap. as i pulled right, onto
the main street, making a sharp turn,
the soup flew.
lid off. all over me, and toward the passenger seat
where i had important papers.
as i reached to grab the bowl,
i automatically turned the steering wheel
in that direction, and jumped the curb
on one side.

standing by my car. stunned.
soup down my black dress. chew-
ing on my bottom lip. unable
to bring the car back over the curb.
i stood.
cell phone forgotten at home.
my song fading.

a police car pulled up to see that
everything was okay. i explained my
delimna. before i could mentally devise
a solution, the officer looked at me, and
said....i can tell by your eyes that you
have been drinking!

excuse me?!! what did you say?

you have been drinking!
i can tell by your eyes.

too stunned to tell him i was ten
days away from eye surgery on the
muscles of my eyes...that one pupil
or the other wanders to the outside,
i just gaped at him.
speechless.
unable to dialogue that i have NEVER
liked alcohol. how it tastes or how it
makes me feel. i NEVER drink.

but before i knew it, they were
putting me in the backseat of the
police car. charging me with a DUI.
no breathilizer. just because..my eyes.

the song?
it was gone.
replaced by a dirge of terror and
horror and shock.

through the grid in the police car,
my voice trembling, i said, draw my blood!

it was done by a nurse.
i was booked into the women's jail
in the next city, in the middle of nowhere.
stripped. finger-printed. face mugged.
one phone call allowed, and i could not
think of one phone number. not one.

brokenness.
a path to higher ground.
well, i didn't like it. didn't want it.
knew i had been wronged, and did not
want any music.

finally, i was led outside.
three massive, tilled fields between
me and the road. was told i had five minutes
to cross this spanse, and catch the last bus
of the night to modesto.

run!
my instincts kicked in.
i knew how to run.
kicking off my
flip-flops. eyes down so as to miss
the holes. face covered in tears, i
started running for my life. as the bus
was pulling away, i slapped the door, and it opened.

today,
my eye surgery is done.
all charges have been dropped
because no alcohol or drugs were
found in my blood. it was a dear friend
who called out of the blue, who retained
an attorney to represent me. i had told
every young woman arrested after me about
Jesus. and He, through it all, did NOT aban-
don me.

i flunked with my song.
i wasn't noble in my brokenness.
but God used this in my life. the pain
DID become my gift.

"i want to scale the utmost heights,
and catch a gleam of glory bright;
but still i'll pray 'til Heaven i've found,
my prayer, my aim is highter ground." (old hymn)

"i will exalt you, O LORD, for You have lifted
me out of the depths and did not let my enemies
gloat over me...weeping may remain for a night,
but rejoicing comes in the morning." ps.30

pastor bobby said
the devil can't take my song!

i shout out
huh-uh! no, sir!
it is mine to sing, and
he is NOT going to quiet
my music.

oh, the devil tries. yes, he does.
he reminds me of all my
failures. he whispers that i am
weak. not worthy. but he can't
have my song!

my sister has cancer.
one of my children feels
very alone where he is.
i'm not always sure how
i will pay the bills. it is not
always easy to hang on to the
music, but the devil
can't take my song!

it is not hard to sing
on good days. when
everything just seems to
fall into place. the children
are thriving. friends embracing
me. enough money in the bank.
there is music everywhere.
i hear it in the trees. in
the laughter of those around
me. the chirping of the birds.

but, i trip, and fall
on little things if i'm not
careful. a criticism.
a minor collision. a miserable
work-out at the gym.
and my song begins to fade.
like the sun crawling below the
horizon. so subtle, the way
darkness settles over us. the way
music leaves me.

but...
just when the devil
thinks my song is gone,
i reach out to you.

let's join in our sorrows,
and our struggles. let's
become a choir. our voices
raised to the ONLY One
who can make the music.
the only One who knows the
song. let's sing!

never!
no!!
the devil can't
take my song
because he knows
NOTHING about melodies.
there is NO music where
he dwells. we will not
hang our instruments in
the trees. we will NOT
be quieted.

pastor bobby got it right.
the devil doesn't get it,
but he can't take away
our song.
even the rocks and hills cry out.
the song lives!

"He has given me a new song
to sing. a hymn of praise to
our God. many will see what He
has done. they will put their trust in
the Lord." ps.40:2-3

"i'm not afraid of storms
for i am learning how to sail
my ship." louisa may alcott

long ago,
i decided if i didn't make friends with
pain, i would be a miserable person. a
new storm has always been brewing somewhere
on the periphery of my life.

in my latest book, seduced by success, i made
a BOLD confession. this specific experience
shattered me. a tsunami that shredded my peace
and terrified me.

at 27 yrs. of age,
i lost my virginity to a
married man.

i was dean of women on a university
campus outside boston. one of my superiors,
highly regarded by all, fell for me. he was married,
with children, and i was utterly unprepared for the
wiles of some men. jan, my sister, had just married,
and it made me feel very alone. vulnerable.

this man, twice my age, was so subtle in wooing
me that i was in before i realized it. and didn't know
how to get out.

with all my heart, i was pure
about Jesus. He, my Star and Savior, was
everything. until this, i had never stepped my
toe outside the line of spiritual responsibility.

then,
beyond imagination,
a storm gust picked me up,
and blew me into a world of nightmares
and blurred truth beyond anything i had known.

i had saved myself for marriage, but in
one night, one moment, lost all the years
of purity. crossed a line that i could never
change.

he told me we were different.
that the commandments against adultery
and fornication in the Bible did NOT
apply to us. he called us exceptions.

how could that be?!
what was truth? scrambled brain.
terrified contradictions that i literally
could not match up. i became completely
lost.

many nights,
i would get into my sport's car, and
drive through winding streets in my
neighborhood. screaming and screaming.
retching out the pain. the horror and shame
of genuinely being lost from truth.

tears streaming down my face.
a wound so deep. slicing the clean, pure
journey into shards of ragged aching
utter misery.

Jesus! Father God!
help me. show me truth.
Lord, i am lost.

it was a big night.
i was speaking to a packed
coliseum. a lean, simple form
sitting on a stool. telling my
story of one young woman plus
a great God and love, changing the
world.

after,
as soon as i closed the door
to my hotel room, i fell on my face
by the bed. it didn't matter who had
walked there. what had been spilled
there.

nothing mattered.
nothing at all, except Jesus
coming and opening my eyes and heart.
a glorious night of blessing at the huge
auditorium, shrouded by a dark secret.

and even worse,
truly not knowing
the truth.

in time,
God led me out.
miraculously. the chains
of bondage removed. my soul
washed in God's glistening truth.

are you in the middle
of a storm? lost and shattered?

i promise you
that the Cross is far
more powerful than the lies
and deceit.

Jesus knew my heart.
He protected me. led me out.
confess and watch Him do the
same for you.

"there's room at the Cross
for you. there's room at the Cross
for you. though millions have come,
there's still room for one. yes,
there's room at the Cross for you."


"In the world you will have trouble, but be courageous-I have overcome the world!"
John 6:33

"Lord, i want to be a Christian,
in my heart. in my heart.
Lord, i want to be a Christian
in my heart."

can you hear the music?
the heart's earnest melody?
with longing; a purity that
pierces the darkness?

in my heart.
where only God sees.
full-figured. skinny.
those sitting on a park bench, or
flying via foot. running in the early
morning mist when the sun begins to
settle on the far horizon. stretching its warmth
up and down streets, in the
neighborhoods everywhere.

in my heart
where it REALLY matters.
where we leave judgement
by the side of the road. in God's hands.
set it apart. love,
with no exceptions. shining in our eyes.
we look at people, and they can see
compassion and kindness
in spite of our own frailties and imper-
fections and sin.

hey, brother, can i take your hand?
little boy, do you want to play catch?
popcorn and laughter and a million red
balloons. all because Jesus REALLY lives.
and He is in us. in our hearts where the TRUTH
really shows. can you catch the melody?

tomorrow,
my oldest son turns 25 yrs. old.
will and i knew he was the most
beautiful baby in the nursery. and
the fact that he, at one month, rolled from
the middle of a king-sized bed, and fell off?
well, that classified him as a genius!

he, and my other three sons, melt my
cells and arteries and bones into gushing
pride. humility and gratitude. but do they
catch the rhythm of God's magnificent orchestra?
Lord, can they see my heart?
do they know, in the my quiet living out
of life, that YOU are my heart? you are ALL
that matters? do they see You in me?
in all the ways that count?

skin color means nothing
to me. social/economic status?
nothing. body size? nothing. nor
achievements can turn my head in a
different direction from the Song. oh,
i pray for my heart in this polluted, self-
absorbed world.

happy birthday, taylor.
welcome home from the university.
for the summer. catch that sweet,
clear music in the air. can you track
the rhythm of love that i've painted on
the walls? stamped the chords on the doors
so all can enjoy.

"Lord, i want to be a Christian
in my heart. in my heart."

that is ALL Jesus is about. His beethoven
of sorts. sit up. poise your instruments.
the common houses, on ordinary streets,
can tap to the beat of Christ's glorious
music of love.

come sing with me.
join the chorus.
we have work to do.
in all the heartache. all the
searching....for Someone...anyone...
to PLEASE play the song.
and tell them they will laugh again.
that joy comes in the morning.
and the shadows NEVER last
forever.

Single Parenting Q & A with Ann Kiemel

Two young girls wrote in to Heritage Builders and wanted Ann to address specific questions in regards to ministering to children from single parent families.
Her responses are thought-provoking and worth posting for others to read.
Here are their questions:

Thanks so much for being willing to help, we really appreciate it. Just to give you some context, our main idea for ministering to the kids in single parent homes was to send out a small quarterly magazine.

What are some similar emotions that kids in single parent situations probably share? For example, would they have anger, insecurity, rejection, or a sense of being un-loved?

What is the best way that kids (in general) receive encouragement?

What kinds of things might offend kids in single parent situations? For example, do you think it would be offensive to offer them a magazine labeled specifically for kids in single parent homes, or to offer to make dinner for them one night so they can spend time with their parents?

Do you think we could show God's love to them better by sending out the magazine, having events like Bible studies or movie nights they can come to, or doing random acts of kindness for them?

Now about the magazine... Do you have any suggestions on content, a program we can use to put it together, making it look appealing, etc.?

Do you have any other advice for us about working with these kids, the magazine, etc.? Any will be appreciated.

Again, thank you so much for taking the time out of your schedule to help us. We really value any input that you can give us.

And Ann's response:

dear girls,

my name is ann, and i am a single
mom who works with heritage builders on this
subject specifically. i hope these answers
will help you.

there are many things i don't know.
what age, generally, are you talking about?
what is the social-economic status?
do you do this full-time? i was deeply
touched by your passion and genuine
love for these single-parent kids. you
must be very special, and make a great
team!!

1. best way for kids to receive encouragement?

love. love. love. pick them up (one at a time
if you can), and go get ice cream together.
listen to them talk. about their day. about
their moms or dads. about hard stuff. maybe
letting them have your phone numbers so they
can always feel free to talk.

2. similar emotions single-parent kids feel
vs. all the others who live in two-parent houses?

it is easier today than it once was. today,
every l in 2-3 families is single-parent, so
children don't feel obviously disjointed and
separate from all the others. my husband
died 8 yrs. ago with cancer. i especially...and
still do...dread Father's Day. it makes the loss
feel so obvious. BUT, so much depends on the
mothers. some women can't imagine being alone,
so they hook up with men. bring them into the
home. etc. look at these kids you work with.
BUILD BRIDGES to the single parent. as you
work with the children, do something for the
mothers.

3. should we cook a special meal so they can
spend time with both parents?

yes. yes.
beautiful concept.

4.should we do Bible studies? random acts
of kindness?

again, tremendous ideas. not
knowing how old most your kids are, let me
tell you what i did when i was single, and out
to change the world for Jesus. i'd tell the guys,
who wanted to play on the basketball courts
in my neigborhood, "okay. no problem. BUT,
you have to spend 30 minutes with me in a
Bible study." i had all kinds of guys coming
to the Bible study, and then playing basket-
ball to their hearts' content. random acts of
kindness? you can never fail with this. just
be careful that you don't exhaust yourselves.
that you put into yourselves nurturing and rest and
love, or you will burn out.

5. the magazine?

i hope to meet you both
some day. you are so whole-hearted. creative
and passionate. a magazine is a BIG undertaking.
maybe once a month. each mag. should be clean
in its layout. simple to read. only three or four
pages. maybe featuring two kids an issue. pics
of them. what they love. then, it reinforces to each
one HOW special they are. most kids aren't into
alot of reading. school all day. homework to take
home. i know several women who produced beauti-
ful mags for kids, and eventually, the demand was
way down. not worth it for just a handful. how
about cards for the kids, from you? i'm a computer
idiot, but i receive cards, often. made, somehow,
online. OR, keeping a camera around, and each wk.
do a brief youtube with them in it.

6.clues to working with single-parent kids?

relate to them as if they are whole, and not
defective. divorce and death are not their fault.
what is each one's favorite candy or snack?
challenge them to DREAM BIG. to ask God
to plant a dream in them, and with all their
effort, and God's, never give up, and watch for
miracles. focus on them helping others. there
is so much healing when we give our lives away.
detach them from what they don't have, or can't
do. instead, help them to serve. to give. to
believe they can change the world. one person
at a time. our world is our neighborhood. i was
a youth director, once, out of college. big, wealthy
church. i told them God and i were going to
change the world, and if they wanted to join
me, they should meet me at the altar at 5:30 a.m.
on saturdays. prayer and breakfast (could be
fast food, with an allotment of how much they
can order).

girls, i wish my four sons (now, 20,21,23.24)
had had two gals like you in their lives. what a HUGE
difference it would have made. just remember: ask
God to make you creative. to give you ideas. and love
purely. YOU, both, ARE changing your world.
love,
ann kiemel anderson
heritage builders


If you a have question and/or set of questions for Ann, feel free to email them to
info@annkiemel.com.

have you ever been
to an AA meeting?
or celebrate recovery,
the Christian counterpart?
once you have been,
you are never the same.

it is where Jesus visits.
the broken. the enslaved.
the struggling. the desperate.
we gather. in our yearning.
to touch Him. to crawl under
His arms of love, and feel His warmth
and compassion. to breathe the
same air. to inhale His grace. to find
communion with each other. where
it does not matter how we look. what
we are wearing. where we live.
we are grasping. reaching. lost in our
muddled lives for more of HIM.

on sunday mornings,
at church, it is eons away
from the huddled masses on the
outskirts. people drive to the
beautiful, steepled churches.
bound out of clean, shiny
cars. dressed in their best.
smiling. radiating vibrance and
enthusiasm. trying to exhibit
some level of perfection. sitting,
side by side. singing about God's
vast love. nodding at friends. ministers
with perfectly-knotted ties and boisterous
enthusiasm. i am sitting next to you.
but i don't know..not really..anything about
you. nor you, me. all of us too afraid
to share our darkness because then we
might feel rejected in the ONLY place
we are supposed to find unconditional
love.

last night,
i went to celebrate recovery.
heard a young man tell how,
in seven years, he had never gone
a day without smoking pot. yet, here,
he found hope, and is four days clean.
wonder on his face. in his voice. then,
i went to the women's substance abuse
group. single mothers, wives, young
women who have fought battles all week.
somehow held on until they could come.
sit in a circle and talk. complete trust
that what is shared there, stays there.
no pretense. no compromise of truth.
joined, not by our social-economic status,
but by our brokenness and failure and
struggles.

i'm ann. i'm an addict.

hi, ann.

some of you know i shattered my
femur. broke my hip, and cracked
my pelvis a yr. ago after a fall. i
had fourteen years of recovery under
my belt. my doctor gives me four
pain pills a day. i try to only take two
at night to sleep. i struggle. i
want to be pure for God. perfect.
yes, i want to be perfect for Him.
the Savior and Star of my life. but
it is so hard. am i wrong? right?

everyone listens. nods
in understanding on some level.
i've taken my darkness, and laid it
out in front of them. humbly.
with courage, dredged out of pain.

then, charity (not her real name) spoke.
i'm a mess. i'm 27. i can't help myself.
i'm smoking heroin, and really want to
shoot up so bad. i can tell i'm pregnant
again. i've had four kids so i know. my
boyfriend's abusive, but i don't know how
to live without him.

and she starts to weep.
stunning young woman.
externally flawless. but, shattered
of soul and spirit. grief and fear and
shame hanging on her. stooped over.
eyes downcast. combing her hair away
from her face with her fingers.
utterly destitute. terrified. i went over
and threw my arms around her. she buried
her head in my shoulder. i kissed her face.

i came home
knowing i had seen a
touch of Heaven. Jesus, the Savior
of the world, crucified for us all. and
though church on Sundays looks good
on the outside, behind every glistening
facade, there are secrets. troubles.
rebellious children. women who have had
abortions in their youth. moral failures.
all of us trying to hold it together, and
forgetting that Jesus came for us. not
to make us perfect. only HE is perfection.
but to take our hands, and
lead us down the road with grace and
tenderness. promising deliverance. giving
comfort.


it's ALL about the Blood.
the Blood of Jesus. He was
wounded and scarred and hung for our
transgressions. drink from His Cup
today. "there is power..power..wonder-
working power in the Blood of the Lamb."