I remember when...

I remember when I went to my first 12-Step meeting at the Trust Clinic in Washington, DC. The first person I saw that I knew was Frankie, my hit doctor.

For months, I looked for Frankie but He was missing-in-action. As my hit-doctor, I normally paid Frankie $5.00 or a portion of my heroin to find a vein in my neck willing to receive the contents of my hypodermic syringe. Nobody could “hit” me like Frankie. He was gifted--and missing no more.

On a side row of chairs with the sunlight streaming through the open blinds, there appeared to be a halo framing Frankie's tall, lean body. He smiled and seemed to take no thought of his missing front teeth as he chatted with the young woman beside him. His legs were crossed as he confidently sported feet clad in opened-stringed, dull-but-shined black combat boots.

“Frankie! Hey Frankie, where you been? I’ve been looking for you!”

“Hey girl, I been right here. Coming to these meetings. I’m clean now.”

“What? Clean! Frankie, you not shooting dope no more?”

“No, Stacey. I been clean for 9 months.”

“9 months, Frankie! 9 whole months!!!!”

“Yeah, girl! Glad to see you here, have a seat. You’re gonna be alright. ”

Bewildered, I sought further explanation. “Wait a minute, Frankie, you ain’t using nothing? No reefer? No liquor? No beer? Nothing, Frankie?”

“Nothing, Stacey. For real! Welcome to the program. We've been waiting for you.”

“We?”

I was interrupted by a heavy-set woman in the chair in the front of the room, “Hello Family, My name is Della and I'm an addict. Welcome to the noon meeting of…”

I glanced back at Frankie. He smiled and in a low voice said, “Just keep coming back, Stacey. It does get better.”

I scanned the room filled with of people of various races and ages. I settled into my end chair about 3 rows from the back of the room. As I looked across the room at the serene-version of Frankie, my ex-hit doctor, a peace flooded my soul. I sensed that my steps were indeed ordered by the Lord and that if He could change Frankie’s life, surely He could change mine.”

So began my journey in the 12-step program. My one-day clean has become 20 years of one-day-at-a-times and counting. For me and for Frankie.

Father God: When I'm experiencing doubts of any and every kind. Doubts about the plans and purposes that you have for my life and I wonder how can I get there from here--wherever the here is at the time I'm there. When I feel like I'm not as far up the road of my life and in my relationship with You as I think I should be, help me remember when... And upon remembering, may I fall to my knees and say, "Thank you, Father. Thank you for what you given, thank you for what you've taken away, thank you for the struggle for it has been in the struggle that I found my One true love. The lover of my soul--YOU!" Amen. So be it.

© 2005 Stanice Anderson, www.stanice.com

Photos May 1986: Friends help me celebrate my first year clean and free! L-R: Tina, Dorine, me, Francesca, Barbara. Dorine & Francesca are in stories in my book, I Say A Prayer For Me: One Woman's Life of Faith and Triumph.

Upon Becoming 55

Already it’s Thursday.
Days melt together
as quickly as
chocolate squares
in a warmed copper pot.
Tomorrow never came so fast.
And Yesterday never
started at 10 p.m. today.

The future is here.
And the past seems
a hundred years
to the left of then.

Where does that leave me?
Standing on the corner of now,
Feeling the days drip between my fingers
like a handful of water
scooped from a murky pond on a clear day
and still
I’m grateful.

© 2005 Stanice Anderson

"Love" read by Stanice

Author Donates Poem, Tell Me, to People Affected by Katrina

I sent the following communiqué to the Red Cross and news media today. I wanted to share it with you and ask that you distribute as you are led. I believe that God will use the poem to comfort and empower thousands upon thousands. If you want me to send you an electronic version of the poem which I have formatted three on a single sheet for economic printing, easy cutting and distribution, please email me at stanice@stanice.com or print linked file* below.

Author Donates Poem, Tell Me, To People Affected by Katrina

My name is Stanice Anderson and I am the author of I Say A Prayer for Me: One Woman's Life of Faith and Triumph published by Walk Worthy Press/Warner Books.

While I have given money and offered up prayer, I feel a deep desire to give something that is truly unique to me. Something from my soul and heart to the souls and hearts of women, children, and men who are suffering physically, emotional, and spiritually in this time of crisis in our great nation. When I look at the photos, video clips, and listen to the stories, I see and hear the right-now heart-cry of my poem, Tell Me.

Thus, I donate my poem, Tell Me. Please copy, with my complete permission and distribute in donation bags, toiletry kits, tables in shelters, etc. It's about listening to their stories and sharing our true stories of faith with them.

Tell Me

Tell Me
A Story that I have not heard
Lead me to prayer
Give me an encouraging Word
Tell Me
A Story that will teach me how to see
That God loves and cherishes even me
Tell Me
A Story of God’s Goodness and Power
So I won’t give up in this next hour
Tell Me
A Story of what He’s done for you
Then maybe I’ll believe that
He can do the same for me too
Sometimes I get weary
I get weak, I feel worn
Tell Me
A Story so I’ll know it is not by mistake
That I was born
Tell Me
A Story of how God leads the way
Tell Me
A Story so that I can get through one more day
Tell Me
A Story so I won’t feel alone
Tell Me
A Story of how faith is grown
Does God really work in mysterious ways?
Does God care how I spend the hours of my days?
Does He love me? Does He Care?
Will He always be there?
Tell Me
A Story because sometimes life just ain’t fair
Sometimes I feel like I’m living in a lion’s lair
Tell Me
A Story and please make it true
I need to know God loves me
As much as He loves you.
Please Tell Me.

© 2002, Stanice Anderson,
Poem from I Say A Prayer For Me:
One Woman’s Life of Faith and Triumph
Walk Worthy Press/Warner Books
www.stanice.com

Click to hear Stanice reading her poem, Tell Me.

*Print copies from .pdf file -- Tell Me

contact info: Temple Hills, Md., USA, telephone 202.491.6968

In the Midst of the Storm

Photo: Pray It Say It e-cards

I feel an urgency to get this offering of “In The Midst of the Storm” out especially to those of you within the path of the hurricane. And to those of you with loved ones in these areas, pass this on. I wrote the following story after God brought me through Hurricane Fran.

Light in the Dark

On Friday, September 6, 1996, at 3:00 A.M., I got a wake-up call that I will never forget! The ferocious winds accompanying Hurricane Fran sledgehammered my sweet dream. I awoke to a world void of light and no silvery moon. I was in the basement of a wood-framed house surrounded and held captive by flag-pole-tall bending and breaking pine trees—disoriented, scared, and alone. It was like living inside the color black.

Fear choked me as I crawled through the house in what I hoped was the direction of the bathroom. Death knocked at the windows and doors begging for entry. But I wasn’t answering. I bumped into every wall, felt each sharp corner of furniture, and shouted in an attempt to drown death’s call. “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me” (Psalm 23:4, New King James Version). I shouted the same verses repeatedly with ouch’s mixed in like choruses. I knew that if I could get to the bathroom, which was in the center of the house, I would be safe.

As I crawled and listened to the hurricane that raged all around me, I realized that it could very well be my last night on earth. I felt the coolness of the ceramic tile under my hands and knees as I made it to the safety of the windowless bathroom. I felt the toilet seat, propped myself up, and grabbed the Bible and mini-battery-powered clip-on book light out of my magazine rack. I turned to Psalm 119 and read, “Your Word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.”

In the background, I heard the crackling and thump of snapping trees. Thunderously loud wind, crashing glass, and tree branches slashed all around the wood-frame house. Through my tears, I recited out loud, “Your Word is a lamp to my feet and light to my path. Your Word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.”

Yet, still—I thought of death.

I wanted one moiré chance to tell my mother, father, and especially my son, Michael, “I love you.” No excuses. No long talks. I wanted them to know that I genuinely loved them—since forever—and until forever is no more. And then something happened.

Peace washed over me like the warm waters of a baptismal pool. It was like God wrapped His loving arms around me like a loving father comforts his child awakened by a nightmare. The wind seemed muffled. Time stopped. Whether I lived or died did not seem to matter. An incomparable light flooded my spirit. The tiny book light shone like a beacon illuminating the vast night sky that surrounds it, beckoning the troubled ships to shore.

I whispered a prayer, “Even if I did, I know that you are with me. If I live, you are still with me. Whether I live or die—all is well with my soul and for that truth I am grateful.” I stretched out on the bathroom floor and fell asleep.

A loud tapping sound woke me. I opened my eyes to the light of dawn filtering through the slit at the bottom of the bathroom door…**

© 2002 Stanice Anderson, excerpt from I Say A Prayer For Me: One Woman’s Life of Faith and Triumph, Walk Worthy Press/Warner Books

While "Light In The Dark" is a true story from my book, I believe that God wanted it to be for times such as these…freely God gave to me…and freely I give to you. And now, I feel compelled to pray.

Dear Heavenly Father,

I pray a special prayer today for those of us who Hurricane Katrina threatens. Thank you God that you are greater still than any hurricane…than any one thing and any combination of things. You alone are God Almighty and you promise never to leave us nor forsake us. Father keep us safe, keep our loved ones safe, keep even strangers to us who are no strangers to you SAFE. Station your infinite number of guardian angels around us to protect us, minister to us especially in the darkest hours. Lord for those of us that don’t know you as their personal Lord and Savior even during the storm let them experience first-hand and personally Your grace and mercy. Let them know that you are just a prayer away and that You are The Light that dispels ANY AND ALL Darkness. Grant us peace that surpasses all human understanding. In Jesus’ Name, I pray. Amen. So be it.

--------------------

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You Are A Miracle

Click here: You Are A Miracle Flash Movie by Terri McPherson

Walking on Water

What am I doing?
I’m living so completely contradictory to what man says. Mine is not a traditional life but only life as I’ve come to know it. A series of leaps of faith, walks on water, climbs to mountaintops, exiles to deserts, dodging shadows in valleys and refusing to be a Jesus cliché. Everyday I awake expecting miracles, favor and success. My bank account says “it ain’t happening.” The bills say, “You’ve got to be kiddin’. Debt-free? We ain’t having it.” The mortgage company says, “Just half-step one time…” But the Holy Spirit empowers me call what is not as if it already is and believe that the impossible is highly probable and that the possible is just too easy for God--anyway.

What am I doing?
Calling what is not as if it already is. With a child’s heart, I’m choosing to believe and take God at His Word as poured on in Jeremiah chapter 29, verses 11 through 12. “For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart”

What am I doing?
Trusting God!

© 2005 Stanice Anderson

Letting Go

Perhaps like me, God has been teaching you the art of Letting Go. Letting go of the old in order to embrace the new. Letting go of what is not working so that He can bring to me what is. Letting go of trying to fix it or work it out on my own...and letting Him bring His perfect will and plans into my life.

Letting go of the old ideas that are not based on the THE living WORD of God but soul-draining stuff grafted on my mind over years of listening to what the world has to say...simply because what God has to say is contrary to the lies I've been bombarded with all my life. Lies and misconceptions like from the poem, Invictus, by William Ernest Henley, which I had to learn in high school, "I am the master of my fate the captain of my soul."

Then ushered in by the Madison Avenue ad agencies was the "me generation.” The world instructed me to look into the mirror and repeat affirmations like, "it all about me and my inner child." And let's forget the golden-arched message "you deserve a break today." What I deserved was death by inverted crucifixion but what I got was God's unmerited favor! He sent his only son, Christ Jesus to die on the cross for me and my sins; so that I could have life and that more abundantly. I'll be honest with you. It would be extremely difficult for you to pry my "only" cup of coffee out of my grasp--even at the expense of 3rd degree burns on my hands. Give up my only son? Any son? Any child? For anybody? Unthinkable! No way, ever!

Yes, letting go of the hype and replacing it with God's truths. Letting go of the bitterness so He can replace it with His Love. Letting go of the anger so He can replace it with His peace that surpasses all human understanding--especially mine. (Philippians 4:7)

Letting go of the plans and dreams I have for myself or allowed others to force-feed me so that He can orchestrate into my life His perfect plans prepared long before I was born. (Jeremiah 29:11-13)

Letting go of the fear-based procrastination and embracing the life and reality of God's words, "For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind." (2nd Timothy 1:5) Letting go of all that's broken in my life--relationships--emotions--ideas--concepts--beliefs about myself and others.

LETTING IT ALLLLLLLLL GOOOOOOOOOOO. The burdens, the frustrations, the hopelessness, trying to understand the profundity of life when His ways are so far and above our ways and His thoughts higher than our thoughts could ever hope to be. (Isaiah 55:9) The most viable and empowering solution eludes me like my own shadow in the blazing afternoon sun -- Free-Falling back into the all-powerful and loving arms of God and RESTING. Resting like David who in Psalm 131 wrote, "I have stilled and quieted my soul; like a weaned child with its mother, like a weaned child is my soul within me." (Psalm 131:2)

A group of us discussed such things in the last Feast on THE WORD Gathering. The Lord brought to my remembrance this poem which I printed, distributed and now, I feel led to share with you.

"Broken Dreams"

As children bring their broken toys
With tears for us to mend,
I brought my broken dreams to God,
Because He was my friend.
But then instead of leaving Him,
In peace to work alone,
I hung around and tried to help,
With ways that were my own.
At last, I snatched them back and cried,
"How can you be so slow?"
"My child," He said, "What could I do?
"You never did let go.

Author Unknown

© 2005 Stanice Anderson www.stanice.com

I am

I am but a miniscule fragment
of God’s imagination
A grain of sand
on the Seashore of Life
And still I matter.
I am because HE IS.

© 2005 Stanice Anderson www.stanice.com

Stanice On Writing

I’ve been writing since I learned how to construct a sentence. One of my poems was published in school magazine when I was nine years old. It seemed like, in the millisecond, my happy childhood ended, as the verbal and physical abuse at home escalated. Coupled with being raped at 14 years old, I was emotionally silenced and sequestered by the secrets. I remember making a vow to myself—“No one must ever know.” Therefore, the written word became my saving-grace.

As I grew older, I attempted to show the world a well-adjusted, funny, and extraverted woman. It was only in my writing that my real voice could be heard. It dared to whisper a different story. Words befriended me, flowed from my soul, and spilled onto thousands of pages over the years. However, as if by tried by a jury with my warped sense of self as foreman, most of my pieces were sentenced to life in file folders neatly stacked in corrugated boxes and exiled to the backside of closets.

Resurrected Dreams, one of the stories in my memoir, I Say a Prayer For Me: One Woman’s Life of Faith and Triumph, best describes my relationship with the written word.

“Out came the sun and dried up all the rain. In my forties, writing found me again. It helped shatter the chains of my painful and shameful past. Words fed my starving spirit and soothed my aching life. In spite of the fact that I abandoned the words and left them to die by the side of the road, they waited for me at the crossroads of life to point the way, ‘Just believe!’ they insisted that we and you are one.’ The itsy bitsy spider went up the spout again.”

As an exercise of my belief, I send my words out into the world.

© 2005 Stanice Anderson, Author and Inspirational Speaker, www.stanice.com