Someone was Going to Die

On April 5th, 2013, a series of timeline pictures came across my FB news feed, and I knew in that instant someone was going to die. I could smell death. Feel death. Almost see death crouching in the corner.

Concentric conversations like heavy rain crashed against our imaginations, threatening to drown us all. Hope was almost lost.What do we do? What can we do? How many attempted interventions had epically failed? How many times had we been hoodwinked? How many tears shed? Prayers prayed? Time and money invested?  And to what end...

We battled fiercely amongst ourselves, searching for a solution. 
Presented cases. 
Built alliances.
Realigned alliances.
Drew lines in the sand to only falter under heavy pressure, scribble them out, and draw new lines in the sand.

Finally, perhaps a viable solution percolated to the top.  It was a long shot filled with much risk. It seemed too crazy, unrealistic, and an impossibility to pull off.

Afraid to move even one little pawn up one little space, we did the only thing we knew to do: In the most desperate of times wisdom consults the elders among you. Cherry and I decided to take our crazy idea to the Big Papa. We knew if our plan had validity, Popee would affirm it, and if it didn't he would swiftly shoot the idea down with an, “Are you crazy? Y'all are insane!”

Mom, Bernie, Momee, Popee, Cherry and I gathered. Ladies and Gentlemen court is now in  session.  All rise...In anxious tones, we presented the predicament-- having to uncover things we dare not uncover. We outlined the germ of an idea for a possible solution. Not  much back story was necessary. We had all endured together this tortuous merry-go-round cycle of loving a person that is living a life of the half dead. For the past 9 years our entire family suffered under the great oppression brought forth by heavy addiction, binding us all in suffocating chains as we whirled around in circles. The difference this time was we knew we had no more time. The merry-go-round had spun its last time. Someone was going to die. 

The Plan: My sister, Rayanne, and her beautiful 3 year old, Breleigh Marie, would go to the House of Promise in Colorado for a two year program that seeks to break chains, and restores mothers and their small children to a healthy, joy-filled existence.

Big Papa's response: “Well, call them Monday morning and see if they have any openings and we will go from there. I will do whatever I need to do to get them in the program.”

The gavel wrapped loudly. Did my ears deceive me? We had the green light!? Maybe we weren't completely insane? Maybe God was truly up to something! 
Mom, of course, was not in favor of the verdict. For obvious reasons, her concern was Breleigh. We still had work to do to convince her, but the Big Papa had spoken! 

Court adjourned. We left that space, knowing the battle had just begun. The spiritual world lit up with activity. Both sides marshaling their troops, readying reinforcements. All the while, in the natural realm, we did all we knew to do: Prayed, plotted, and planned. Waiting for our next moves to be revealed...

The first of a series highlighting the beginnings of what I hope is a miraculous journey of transformation...


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