Saturday, December 6, 2014


Linking up with others at Tuesdays @ Ten for another "word prompt" post!  Check it out here and join the link-up!  The word is received on Monday night and you have 'til the next Monday's word to get your post written.  I am joining late this week; but am working on getting it done today...

So, this week's word is FEAR:

My life was changed 16 years ago - exactly 16 years and almost 3 months! - when I suffered an attack at the hands of one person who came to the door at the church where I was working.  He had actually been there about a month earlier, asked if he could do some work around the church to earn a little money; and when I said we didn't have anything, asked for a cup of water.  The first time I opened the door and handed him a cup of water; and he left. (I felt it was my ministry, to the church and its surroundings, to do what I could for those in need).

The second time he came (and I did recognize he had been there before) when I opened the door to hand him the cup of water...he pulled a gun out and shoved me back inside, knocking the cup of water to the floor.  When I screamed he hit me, knocking my glasses off my face; then he pulled me through the office door into the fellowship hall.  He made me lie on my stomach and tied my hands behind my back; then pulled a cloth from a nearby table and covered my mouth.  He kept asking for money, and I did not have any to give him.  He kicked me several times in both of my sides and threatened me with the gun.  I kept shaking my head and trying to say "no money."  I knew all I had was 35 cents and that no money is kept at the church.

Well, I somehow managed to point him to the kitchen where I thought there might be some change in the refrigerator; we kept canned drinks and waters there for members of the church to buy, if needed.  When he went to check it out, I slowly got up and went into the office and tried to lock the office door behind me.  He realized I had gotten up and ran back across the fellowship hall and busted the door down.  He then hit me several more times with the gun and dragged me back across the stage and down the steps into the fellowship hall.  He threatened that he would kill me if I tried to get away again.  I lay still, as if unconscious (or worse), but still was aware of where he was and what he was doing...and I prayed!

Talk about fear - yes, for once in my life, I was afraid!  But, I was more afraid that somebody else would stumble upon what was happening and become another victim.  You see, the organist was in the Sanctuary across the courtyard rehearsing for the following Sunday's music; she would not have been able to hear anything until she walked into that part of the building.  And there had been several elderly members stop by earlier in the day, including the pastor who was in her 80's!

From where I was lying, I could see him going through my purse; and I could hear him going through the drawers and cabinets in the office - then...I heard nothing.  I couldn't be sure if he had left, or even when he did leave.  I continued to lie still until I heard my name called..."Barbara?"  It was the organist...I just kept praying that he wasn't still there.  When I heard my name called, I said "Be sure the bicycle is gone."  (Somehow I had worked the cloth from my mouth while lying there).

So, the organist - my rescuer - called 911 and after giving them the information, she came to attend to me; she wiped the blood from my face with a damp paper towel.  The emergency units came and checked me out; then took me to the emergency room, where my pastor, my husband and family were contacted.

The following words are the beginning of a poem I attempted to write - sharing a cup of water seems such an easy task to do, doesn't it?  And we are called to do just that for our sisters and brothers who are in need.  But...could I ever do that again, after what I went through that one day so many years ago? 

Only a Cup of Water...
What Could That Hurt?

Just a cup of water, you say?
Whatever I do to the least of these...
I have done to you.
Share a cup of water?
Why, of course, I will -
What could that hurt...?

Reach out to my sister;
Reach out to my brother.
Give what they need - 
Share what I have.
Just a cup of water, you say?
What could that hurt?

Could I ever again share with another of God's children?  The answer to that last question is - Yes!  I can help my sisters and brothers who are in need; but I can do that with the faith and assurance that God is with me...because, He was with the that day; and He is still with me even now as I put these words out there to share with others.  And, I refuse to let what happened to me continue to victimize me for the rest of my life.  It took me a while to "get over it", as if we ever do completely get over it!  But I did - I survived and my life goes on...

I refuse to remain a prisoner of his attack!

And he is not as big as he thought himself to be...
Because now he is the one in prison!


  1. Wow what a powerful testimony. Perfect Love Casts out all fear. I am so glad that you are safe and that you can share what the Lord did in and through you that day.

    1. Thank you for reading and commenting, Jackie! It seems a long time ago - yet it doesn't feel like it...I AM safe and do hope that by sharing it helps someone else in their struggles.

  2. Oh Barbara, I'm speechless. What a truly awful, diabolical, thing to have happened. I am so, so glad you were saved and that you have managed to overcome the (bulk of) the trauma xxx

    1. Thank you, Helen! God had a reason for saving me...and I thank him for that. I don't know the why or what His plan is for my life; but I DID survive and as I said, my life does go on. I appreciate your reading and following along with me on my journeys. I cherish the friendships I have made with my blogging...Pen Pals of sorts!!!

  3. Oh Barbara, I am so sorry this happened to you. I was employed at my church for over 9 years until recently. I did encounter those who yelled, spit at me, cursed, but never did physical harm. I am so very thankful your life was spared.

    1. Barbie - I am Barbara Jean! I have been called Barb and Barbie and my grandmother called me Bobbie Jean...but Barbara has been my name all my life with few nicknames. Oh, and when I went to work for a Barbara (who was a manager, then a VP), they nicknamed my B. J. which has stuck for those co-workers...I worked about 8 - 9 years between two churches; it was part time, so I did one in the morning and one in the afternoon for 4 of those years. I don't remember anyone yelling or spitting or cursing at me; that one incident was the worst. But, yes, I SURVIVED and am still here today to talk about it - while he ROTS in jail. Not very Christian-like of me; but he chose the lifestyle he lived and the things he did...Thanks for reading and seems we are very much alike!!


Thank you for stopping by to read my post today! I appreciate your reading and commenting - your comments are a welcome encouragement for me to continue one of my favorite things - writing!

You are special to me; and your words help in more ways than I can number...Thank you just isn't enough!