Author: Rephidim LLC

My best friend went to see Fences and suggested that I check it out so we could share our thoughts on it. So I obliged and went to see the movie on December of 2016. Denzel Washington and Viola Davis showed-up and showed-out! The extraordinary thing about this film is that they delivered a stellar performance on what was considered an “ordinary” story line. It showed the intricacies that go unnoticed and the progression that life, chance and choices bring. Through that perspective we see that no life is truly ordinary at all.

I remember while watching the movie I turned to my husband and said “Denzel Washington (Troy in the movie) looks like my dad!” to which my husband agreed. Interestingly enough, the similarities between Troy and my father doesn’t end there. Like Troy, spending a few minutes in my father’s presence would leave you overtaken with a belly-full of laughter. On one occasion my brother France and Jaymie (my boyfriend at the time) stopped by the house on their way home and my dad being himself had us all on the floor, out of breath from laughter! We were laughing so hard we literally had to beg him to stop talking so we could take just one breath! Belly-busting laughter was the result of each word that fell from his lips.

As Troy, daddy had a huge personality. It was so big  it would “fill up a room and leave very little room for anyone else outside himself.” My siblings and I would joke about Daddy not being a day over 17. This was evident when after winning $7 Million dollars it took him less than two years to spend it all! And dont think for a moment that it was all on us! If conventional standards were used to measure our “father” and his role in our lives, I know for sure that he would have fallen short.  In truth, my father had his fair share of limitations.

My siblings will tell different stories about daddy’s level of involvement in their lives, but we would all agree on one thing. His home represented fun, freedom and good food. After a long and tiring day at the river, we all looked forward to big show down of a soccer, cricket, site-and-site, Chinese skip or “bat’s ball” game with all the kids on that street on any given Sunday or on a hot summer’s day. We felt protected in his massive presence. His home also represented delicious and nutritious meals because he was such an excellent cook. I would do anything to have his meals right now!

Daddy was present for all the major milestones in my life and although I am not alone when I say that my father was far from perfect, the movie Fences taught me something. It brought me to the reality that from birth to death we are the embodiment of our cultivated and inherited tendencies. Some of us through the help of the Holy Spirit and a supportive community of people are able to make better choices while others for various reasons fail. The discussion held between Rose and her son at the end of the movie helped me to accept my father’s shortcomings on the basis that people are incapable of giving something that they don’t have, but that should never prevent us from loving them. It should never prevent us from respecting who they are even if they don’t measure up to what society considers to be great. Doing this requires acknowledgment and acceptance. Regardless of our perspective, our angst, we cannot change them. We can choose to accept the providence that God did not make a mistake by placing them in our lives. The choice is to love in-spite of,  I understand that more so now.

I can’t help but feel like I lost the time that the epiphany from Fences brought. It feels like it came 15 years too late. Within less than a month of watching this film, I lost my father to the cold, stinging hands of death and if I had it to do all over again, I would have told him I loved him more. I would have checked in on him. I wouldn’t be so absorbed in my life that no room was left for him. I could hear him saying whenever I called “this long time mi nuh hear from you…you can’t call me mon?” and that haunts me. The past, I can never go back and change, but I will spend the rest of my life honoring his memory. My children will hear tales about him, and  I will choose laughter as the medicine to combat life’s challenges.

In the last days of his life the conversations we had were some of the most conscious and sobering we’ve had all my life. Those memories are untouchable and I will treasure them for time and eternity. They are treasured because it was those conversations that led me to believe that God had finally taken up residence in my father’s heart. My fathers life was no ordinary life, it was extraordinary and his legacy lives on through us and his memories are carried deep within our hearts. I encourage you to Cherish the moments we have with those we love…and never miss an opportunity to show them that we love them!

We all have been touched in some way, shape or form by the cold hands of death. Having experienced the death of a mother I can attest to the fact that death stings. One of the things that I’ve done is to access resources on grief and loss. A very helpful coping technique which I got from the book “Grieve if you Must” is writing letters to the deceased loved one. It is my fundamental belief and conviction that my mother will never be able to read this letter. It is hoped that the sentiments shared will resonate with those who understand the silence of death and those who struggle with the pain of an undeliverable letter may find hope and peace in intense reflection.

Dear Mama,

It’s been almost nine years since you’ve been gone but the pain is still so real. For the most part I cope well throughout the year but some days like, mother’s day, your birthday and the anniversary of your passing are usually harder to get through. On some occasions when monumental achievements are attained I feel sad because I hate the fact that you have missed out on so many of the things that would have made you very proud.

Your departure has left deep wounds that will continue to take a lifetime to heal. I know for me, I struggled with feeling displaced after you were gone. As I sit here trying to use words to capture the feeling that overtakes me whenever I am on my way home, I fail miserably. You see Mama, home for me was always where you were. And that meant so much. In some ways it was my source of stability, emotional support, financial backing and a reservoir of love that kept me coming back for more. When the challenges of life began to set in, a simple call home would help to ease the burden.

I still remember, like it was yesterday, the feeling of returning home during my college days. Oh, how I looked forward to your infectious smile. We shared so much, laughing, singing and talking over some of life’s great challenges. The wisdom gleaned from such conversations has never left me. I sat at your feet and listened to stories upon stories about your childhood years or we would just sit down and laugh at old jokes that we’ve told over and over again. Oh how I wish I could relive just one more of those moments.

I miss being the first to wear one of your classy hats or a nice pair of shoes you bought; I would enjoy a belly full of laughter as I listened to you expressing your complete and utter annoyance and disgust at my audacity. I miss the days when you would get up at 6:00 in the morning, and as you enter my room you’d be singing your early morning chant “come Chauna daylight long time! Get up outta di bed and come fix mi breakfast”. Your deep sense of humor just would not allow you to miss an opportunity to laugh at a joke even if it was at your very own expense. The tenderness and warmth of the environment that you created all added to that homely feeling. The void you left is not fillable by any stretch of the imagination. But I just want to write to express my gratefulness to you for leaving behind a legacy so rich. For generations to come, the mention of your name will continue to bring a feeling of warmth and tenderness to the hearts and minds of its hearers.

Most of all Mama, I want to thank you for introducing me to the simple childlike faith which has served to strengthen my daily sojourn here on this Earth. You weren’t blessed with earthly riches, but you left a very handsome amount in your heavenly bank account. Even to this day, we stand as beneficiaries of the heavenly investments you’ve made throughout the years.  In retrospect, it may have been by divine providence that God chose to remove you from the picture. Your absence has lifted my focus on to where my true home is. You spent your life pointing me to it, but somehow I failed to see it. Today however, it is crystal clear that my life’s mission and purpose is to live a life for God and ultimately claim my true home, my eternal home.

The profound principles and life-lived lessons, which you have bequeathed to me, have removed any possible doubts of your eternal home being anywhere else but Heaven. With sentimental anticipation I savor the inspired words of Guy Penrod

“Knowing we can spend a lifetime reminiscing on the past,

knowing I will see your face again where tender moments last.

It makes me want to go there, knowing I won’t be alone,

knowing you’ll be there makes it easy to go on”.

I will continue the journey on this side of life, yearning for the grand reunion. For now, I will hold dear those memories that have served to sweeten my journey until together we finally make it to our eternal home.

By: Candice & Danny Williams

Recently, I had the difficult task of watching my high school basketball team suffer a traumatic loss in the semifinals of a tournament they had spent the entire semester preparing for. The game came down to a final shot, our leading scorer was able to get off before the final buzzer sounded but the ball rattled in the hoop and bounced out leaving our team once up by 18 points in the 2nd quarter shocked, stunned, frustrated and angry that they let the game slip through their fingers.

The leading scorer was especially devastated as was our starting point guard who missed several key free throws in the final moments of the game. “It’s my fault,” seemed to be theme of their mournful lament and both of these key players were inconsolable for a good while after the game ended. I left that scene with two important lessons: Basketball is a team sport. Individuals don’t win or lose games contrary to how the star obsessed media portrays sports highlights. Sure the hero gets the credit in the end, or blamed if he made a mistake at the end of the game, but that is not a true reflection of the outcome of the game. Team sports are won and lost by teams not individuals.

Every blown defensive assignment, every time a player failed to box out, or follow his shot, every missed free throw, every missed layup, every unwise pass by individual players from the beginning of the game until the end impacts the outcome of the game for the entire team. Similarly, in life we don’t live exclusively for ourselves. No man is an island…we are all are affected by each other’s mistakes, some of which might have happened at a seemingly insignificant part of our lives. But there is no insignificant part of our lives.  Every action counts, every decision is critical and impacts the whole outcome. We must never lose sight of the fact that our actions will always impact more than our individual selves.

Secondly, as I stood in that locker room after the game and witnessed the intensity of their grief, I wondered why is it that for die hard athletes competitive sports are so much more than just a game–for some it can seem to almost be a matter of life & death. As the popular saying goes for so many, “Ball is life.” Why is this? What if anything did our young players need to understand? Well I couldn’t say it any better than one assistant coach to a distraught young player, “You are more than this game…you are an amazing person”.  Talk about life lesson! I can’t tell you how many days I needed that one, and if we are honest I think we all do from time to time. Tough as it was to admit, that very important game wasn’t the sum of everything.

Of course no one will ever be able to minimize the sting of failing to win that game, but loosing might have very well had a more lasting impact on their character. You see, failure is unavoidable….but it is also compartmentalized. Every now and then we all need to be reminded what mistakes might have been made, but those mistakes don’t make us, so why stare at the rear view mirror and in the words of Indie Arie “wreck your future, running from your past”? Disappointments, they are inevitable, but discouragement need not be the choice we perpetually make. Choose instead to allow the lessons learned from failure to guide you to true success. I don’t know where you are today, maybe you needed to hear the timeless message for yourself, or maybe you can help someone who is struggling by speaking those words “you are more than this….you are an amazing person,” to someone else today. You see, we are all on the same team. Beating yourself up, or watching someone near you do the same benefits NO ONE!!!! Whatever “THIS” failure is, we are all more than IT. Somebody special thinks each one of us is worth way more than the sum of our past mistakes.

It’s the season of love and Aprons ‘n Heels will be celebrating the blessing of intimacy within marriage for the next couple of posts. By design, marriage was created to be the most intimate relationship on earth. In this post Candice Williams sought to capture an episode of a wife daydreaming about an epic encounter with her husband. I hope as you read that you will be able to recreate a similar experience with your spouse in this the season of love.

I am vividly aware of the imprint of your hands caressing my body even though its midday and you’re not here. Thinking of your voice, that sweet whisper only I am allowed to hear when the sky is brushed with rich hues of indigo, orange and yellow. The sun is setting but here I am nestled like a sweet child in your arms.

Your diamond eyes search me through and through. There is no denying how deliriously I am in love with you. Every cell, every fiber of my being responds to your call. You have the keys to my heart. My breath is perfumed by one touch from your lips, and I am never satisfied, I am never full. Give me more to drink, my lover and friend. I am your instrument; play me like Beethoven’s 5th symphony and I will respond.

The intensity, the ferocity of your touch alarms me yet I am not afraid because you hunger for me and only me. Take from me to fill your desire, go deeper and deeper still. “Sun, stand still so I may know the depth, the width of his love”. But hush, I hear the beating of a drum in the distance; its rhythm is an enchanting one. Our hearts beat in sync and as we move to the beat of this drum, we who are two become one.

Romance novels have never told the tale well of two hearts united and blessed from above. Earth cannot contain us, and we beat against heaven’s door, catching a glimpse, if only for a moment. My love is quieted, and I am in his arms content as a suckling child. It’s midday and in an instant I’ve relived that moment so vividly, I cannot wait to come home.

Candice Williams is a Nurse by profession but is also an excellent writer, wife, mother and friend. She is currently working as a missionary in the Federated States of Micronesia.

Most of us may have been affected by the situation written about in this guest post by my dear sister Roxanne McKoy-Chambers. Life sometimes gets in the way of our devotional lives and we just don’t get around to spending quality time in communion with him. As Roxanne shares her experience, I hope you will be able to see the love that God has for us even in these moments. 

My limited vocabulary would not allow me to adequately express the joy I felt as a mother  welcoming my second child (my baby girl) into our home. It did not take me very long to recognize that with this beautiful bundle of joy comes a major shift in every aspect of our lives. Our schedules were rearranged, there were constant demands and time spent with my older son seemed to dwindle.

Aware of the new challenges that this very major change would bring, I had a plan of action or so I thought. At an early age it was instilled in me that morning devotions were like a vaccination. This vaccination I concluded, would protect and help me withstand any challenges a day could bring. I soon realized that the shift also included my vaccination time. Not being able to cut out sufficient time at the beginning of each day made me feel as if I was lost and drifting far away from that still small voice of God.

I felt exposed and fearful that at any time the turmoil of life would just overtake me. My all or nothing approach to my devotional time caused me to look with disdain on a rushed word of prayer while I was busy attending to my motherly duties. I felt like I was disappointing God since He and I knew I was hurriedly rushing through the pages of the bible.

My motherly duties were competing with my need to spend quality time with God, but despite the pressing demands that came with my new reality, I still managed to be consistent with reading to my children their Sabbath school lesson.  A feeling of consolation swept through me as I reflected on my actions. It almost seemed as if I was saying “well I might be drifting from God but not you my children, you will stay close to him”.

Little did I know that studying God’s word for my children was as much for me as it was for them. Even though I was unable to fulfill my daily devotions the way I had grown accustomed  to, God did not expel me from His presence. He was still interested in me and would send a word of comfort when I really needed it.

The title of the lesson: “Paul and the shipwreck” immediately arrested my attention. In some ways this title was mirroring how I felt on the inside. Since I was suffering from the pangs of sleep depravity, I began reading the story emphatically while yielding the added benefits of allowing my children to remain interested. The story is recorded in Acts 27 and it tells of how Paul and the others were on a ship and the sea was calm when all of sudden a storm came and ravaged the ship. While everyone else around panicked Paul was calm. Unbeknownst to the others on the ship, an angel told Paul that not one of them would die but the ship would be lost.

As I sat there with my children enthused by the story and staring at the pictures, God spoke to me in a profound way. He pointed out that our lives are a lot like this story, there are times when everything in our life’s experience is going well. Then without a warning the storms of life inserts itself in the worse possible way. In this trying process we may lose our ship. Our ship may be our health, job, money, marriage, or even a loved one. God never promised that our ‘ship’ will always be speared the brunt of the storm, but we can claim the promise that during our time of despair, hopelessness, loss or time of spiritual drought that “whosoever call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved (Rom10:13).

These words from my children’s Sabbath school lesson were akin to “apples of gold in settings of silver”. Within a very short timeframe  of receiving these words of reassurance, I came face to face with my personal storms. Both my son and father were hospitalized at the same time. The demands of catering to their needs, the hospital visits and caring for my newborn began to take its toll on my body physically. I was not able to pray, meditate or do my bible studies, but God’s word stayed with me.

When I couldn’t carry myself anymore, God carried me upon His promises. His words of reassurance that “no power can take out of His (God) hands the souls that go to Him for pardon” (Patriarchs and Prophets 516) was held dear to my heart. It was right then I realized that it was never about my ability to hold on to God through my rituals but it was all about God’s ability to keep me through whatever circumstance I faced. I have now learned that my moments of quiet undisturbed quality time with God is not only meant to vaccinate me against the storms of life but it also keeps me in times of drought. The word was hid in my heart and when I needed it most, it spoke and said “I will never leave you nor forsake you”(Hebrews 13:5).

About the writer: Roxanne McKoy-Chambers is a mother, wife, friend and sister who enjoys sharing the word of God both in writing and through the  spoken word. A teacher by profession, Roxanne enjoys her role in shaping the lives of future generations. She is also an international speaker who has traveled to several countries sharing the good news of salvation.

This guest post by Candice Williams is guaranteed to inspire you as you seek to chart your course for 2016. Candice Williams is a Nurse by profession but is also an excellent writer, wife, mother and friend. She is currently working as a missionary in the Federated States of Micronesia. Please read and be blessed.

New Year resolutions seems so simple but hard. Part of that commitment means to forget and forgive the past. Forgetting and forgiving means choosing to set you free on a course where the biggest obstacle is no longer the flashing neon sign that says “Me”. The solution to resolutions is not merely to make new ones, it is also choosing to let go of memories that invoke fear.

Such power they hold in controlling the mind, though dead they come alive to taunt and ridicule when attempting to do things anew. These memories are like “minions” of the mind and they don’t care if you try, as long as you do half your best and never fully achieve the success you’d hoped for. Then the recent “failure” is seized and used as an effective tool to wreak additional havoc.

In medicine the term croup-countercoup comes to mind, it is an injury involving the brain where both sides are damaged following a sudden impact. The side that received the initial impact (coup) or blow and the side opposite the initial impact (countercoup) occur when the force of the initial blow is so great that it causes brain damage at the site where the brain hits the skull. Then the force of this “initial impact” causes additional damage as the brain moves in the opposite direction hitting the other side of the skull. I liken it to the brain playing “ping pong” within the skull.

Similarly in life, our initial experiences serves as the impact and the force of that experience hitting against us causes pain, and rightly so; however, further injustice is done when we allow that painful experience to control us, forging us into a weapon used against ourselves. No other weapon is as effective and proves to be as fatal! That is why it is necessary to forget. Forget what is behind and forge ahead, isn’t that what the apostle Paul said (Philippians 3:13)? Paul knew that a life well lived is a life straining towards a mark, a life with purpose.

Forget that you’ve tried a hundred times before, and try once more with the same excitement, the same determination as if it were the first time. Next, forgive yourself and forgive yourself again! I’m sure you haven’t met the 70 times 7 quota. It’s not just meant for others. Humbly look into that mirror and pardon “you”.  This gift called the “present” is meant to be seized. Be fully committed to the here and now because herein lies the power to awaken desire and the will once awakened is a great force of nature, not to be trifled with! Do you have doubts? Have you seen the will of a two year old in action? Seize the moment! Gain victory after victory and strength will be added to resolve which in return towers over the failures of yesterday.

God has done this! God has given you my friend this incredible mind that can turn any failure into the best success story. Won’t you trust Him with the heart of a child to forgive and forget the past?

Mornings usually include waking up at 6:00 AM to have my private devotion and then to wake the girls up by 6:30 AM to get started on their day. So as to be on time, I have allotted a 2-3 minute buffer for this activity since I must daily debate, I must argue and ultimately convince them that going to school is important and waking up at that time is not an option. My husband has a much easier time and just at the mention of their individual names they awaken from the deepest slumber with such ease. Since nature has not granted me that deep, full voice that vibrates even to the panels of the wooden floor, I’ve accepted this daily struggle. Amidst all the chaos that follows, intermittently my eyes would gaze at the clock to see whether or not I am on track in my morning routine. Every activity down to the girls unscheduled bathroom trips has an allotted time.

It’s inconceivable to be out of sync, as my whole day depends on the seamless execution of my morning ritual. There have been times where just a couple of minutes off proved to be disastrous to the rest of my day. Traffic signals stand still, no parking at the school for drop off, and honking horns remind me of my failure to be true to my timeline and for me, my day can kick start or die at a specific location. That place is none other than Old Swede Road. Old Swede Road is a major thoroughfare that can make or ruin mornings, and what’s more it has the power to spread its deadly tentacles to send the rest of my day to hell. To hell because that’s what it feels like stuck behind a school bus going 25mph on a road meant to be driven at 45mph! There is no redemption and I’m left with time to think of the million ways I could have avoided this undesirable encounter with Old Swede Road.

You may be laughing at the frivolity of this morning ritual but it is a hypothesis that has been tested and proven. Like clock-work (pun intended), whenever I miss this important milestone I find myself encountering more red lights on the way to school, then the school doors are shut so I have to ring the bell, then I just stand there waiting for the door to be opened, then my daughter seems flustered so I have to go in and make sure she’s fine and the list goes on and on and on. These delays further contribute to me arriving late for work and with a series of ongoing negative outcomes, my mood is thrown off and I mentally prepare myself for a very bad day.

Being able to successfully meet Old Swede Road within the desired timeframe is the key to the success of my days, weeks, months and even years! On one occasion, I sought to share this ritual with a friend and the word she used describe it was “sabotage”. As soon as the word descended from her lips I had an epiphany. She was right! I was sabotaging my days by making my mornings the barometer through which I gauged my entire day. In anticipation of a day that was ruined, my mind was already programmed in a negative way. Achieving something great that would have normally taken little effort now seemed impossible due to the bad start. I had successfully used my disappointment in a minuscule area as a crutch to hang my failures upon, and in one sweep robbed the other activities of my day from the positive energy that I would have normally given it.

Can you identify your Old Swede Road? How many times have your days, or life been thrown off by one event that was considered to be a failure? How many days that turned into weeks did you allow an argument to dictate your mood? Could your Old Swede Road be that childhood experience that left you grief-stricken, broken, lost, or abused? Is it the academic goals you failed to achieve before arriving at a certain age? Is it that goal weight that you have been working on since the birth of your first child who is passed the age to blame? Could it be the mistake you made as a wife, mother, sister or child that has left wounds that will last a lifetime? And are these events preventing you from living a wholesome life? Do you feel that because of these failures everything else in life deserves little or no effort?

As justifiable as it may seem in our human experience to make excuses for the outcome of our lives, based failures, hurt or disappointment encountered, there are lessons to be gleaned from the life of the prodigal son. The prodigal son chose failure. Though not all at once, his life was a downward spiral and every day the decisions he made sunk him lower. It seemed that he couldn’t get past the junction of his “Old Swede Road” when he entreated the father to give him his portion of the inheritance. I imagine that the day of that exchange kept playing like a broken record in his mind, and only when he stood at death’s door did he have the gumption to face that junction once more. His life my friend, provides a stark reminder that as humans we are going to do what humans do we fail. We fail to meet deadlines! We fail to attain our goals! We fail to say the right things to the ones we love! Let’s admit that we are all failures, but mercy says we don’t have to stay there! And we shouldn’t need a brush with death to awaken us either! Boldly come to the throne pleading for mercy to pardon you and grace to empower you to live a victorious life (Heb 4:16). The Father has His arms wide open and in His arms  we can lay down our burdens.

So you’ll be glad to know that Old Swede Road remains the same, but the difference is me. I don’t know about you but I am ready to forget the mistakes and failures of 2015. I am ready to walk into 2016 anticipating great things! I am not interested in sabotaging my progress by entertaining a negative mindset. I am ready to be “transformed by the renewing of my mind”, to bask in God’s bounteous love that extends beyond my mortal weaknesses. To walk in the positive and my Old Swede Road experience will no more prevent me from doing that, how about you?