I’m no saint. Far from it.

cropped-img_5106-e1520700510702.pngI am saved.

That’s my powerful testimony.  A wretch. Saved. Me.

As Christians, those 3 words which consists of 8 letters are priceless.  I look forward to the day that I will soar on eagle’s wings and be in the presence of the Master that rescued me from an eternal fire pit.  Me.  He found ME worthy.  I can’t grasp that.

I absolutely love sharing this journey that God and I have been on since He created me in my mother’s womb. The first 25 years were rather boring, but the last 22 have been action packed.  There’s a truth in the saying that being “saved” does not make you immune to trials.  The trials will and do come.

In a few weeks,  I have the privilege to go and share with my friend, Tonja’s, women’s ministry.  I get to share the miracles that I’ve seen.  I get to talk about finding God in a hospital.  I get to talk about the power of praying women.  I get to talk about one blessing after another.

Exciting, right?


Satan has been on attack at every corner.  He’s reminded me of the time I saw a social media post from a family member that said I wasn’t the “saint” I have portrayed myself to be.  He’s reminded me that I’ve struggled with anxiety and found myself wallowing in self-pity. Ol’ Lucifer reminded me that I’m deaf.  I have no business speaking in front of others and will make a fool of myself.  He’s reminded me of how someone had negative things to say about how I go to church every time the doors are open because I’m a goody-goody.  He has reminded me of the ugly thoughts I’ve had against my co-workers at times.

The old slitherer had me so worked up that I reached out to Megan.  I shared with her that I felt like I needed to cancel my speaking engagement. The old crow “ripped me a new one” as we say in the south. She told me I needed to get my “crap” together.  She reminded me that this isn’t about me , per se.  It’s about being real and raw.  No masks.

I’m no saint.  Far from it. I’m the scum on the bottom of a true saint’s shoe.  I’ve yelled at my kids.  I’ve yelled at the car in front of me. I go to church every time the doors are open because I need it.  It keeps me focused on the Master and not me. I don’t always like people. I’m deaf, but the good Lord gave me eyes to hear.  I struggle every single day of my life.   I’m a mess. But I’m HIS mess.

After the crow was finished with me, I didn’t  send the message to cancel.  You’ll find me at Frontline Biker Church sharing this journey that God has chosen me for.  I pray that he’ll use me to give another sister hope:

I know he’ll be right by my side, as always.

Ain’t God good?

The Beancounter.







2 thoughts on “I’m no saint. Far from it.

  1. Donut

    Put your big girl panties on and suck it up!! Did you think Satan would let you get off that easy?? He sure hasn’t me!! So raise your hands to God & straighten your crown & remember who you are!! A princess! A child of the one true king!! Now…..chin up butter cup!!! 😉


  2. woffordgamecock

    Yay for the Crow! People need from people like you- who’s lives are not perfect and who don’t put themselves out there as perfect. They will relate to you and thus you can inspire them. Go get ‘em!



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