“Mommy, why are you crying?” I urged, while my mother, younger sister and brother and I vacationed with my grandmother in North Carolina. Hot and humid in NC, I discovered, at age nine, that I would not be returning to our milder summer at my Ohio home.
Daddy clinched the deal on his first movie in Hollywood, and he was backing out of his marriage. Why? When? Three months later, in spite of my mother’s pleas, my parents’ divorced. To this day, I never revisited my Ohio home. I never bid my friends goodbye. I never experienced life with my Dad in the home again.
Residing “next door” to my grandmother and “around the corner” from every relative (exaggerating) on my mother’s side of my family rewarded blessings…and stories! My bantam hometown remains a hamlet, even titled Hamlet. I specialized in the simple life there. Today, I consider that specialty a jewel in my treasure chest…choosing to live simply.
During those days, Daddy propagated wrong choices. He married two more times, and adopted the three sons of his third wife. All the while, he did not remit child support for the three of us, his biological children. In fact, 17.5 years elapsed without paying support to my mother. Daddy telephoned. The years offered empty statements and unfulfilled promises.
Inevitably, the unpaid child support bill swelled such that my father appropriated the unofficial number one “deadbeat dad” title in the state of NC. “Unofficial” due to the fact that all three of us reached adulthood. NC “cracked down” on deadbeat dads.
A successful author of military and western paperbacks, a guest on mainstream news shows, a speaker, a Karate Hall of Fame inductee, Vietnam Green Beret vet, and even “knighted,” my dad forfeited the opportunity to enter NC without arrest. Eventually, Daddy paid.
After our move to NC, my mother taught business (at a prison, my high school, and our community college.) She labored tough. Daughter of the mayor, working in her family’s grocery store, president of her class, and home-coming queen at Hamlet, my mother receded home broken. She fought for the remains of family. She maintained two and three teaching jobs. She kept us in church, and she wasn’t afraid to tell three teens “no.” She lived within her means. She never remarried. She was faithful. Of course, mom made mistakes as every parent does, but she placed her children above herself. She placed the Lord above all.
Other family members intervened and bore the burden, in many ways, for my father’s choices. They did what Jesus required.
Still, the weight of parenting and the brunt of provision fell upon my mother. My widowed grandmother contributed much.
Daddy quit. Daddy left. We couldn’t change it.
But I share the good news! I have a Father…One who will never leave, One who never quits, One who sent His Son to die for me, One who loves me with an everlasting love. Daddy quit, but God did not.
For He Himself has said, “I will never leave you nor forsake you.”Hebrews 13:5
God has not quit in your life either. Whatever your situation, if you are like me, and your daddy left, maybe not physically, but emotionally, God can fill you with His love, and He wants you to receive His Fatherhood. He is a perfect parent. If you are a mother, raising your children alone in Christ, your Heavenly Father parents your children and He honors the heart cry prayers of a mother. God will strengthen you to remain faithful. If you are in between and the Daddy in your family is on the run, stay “weak” at the feet of Jesus. As you depend on Him, He will show Himself strong in you. God never leaves. Jesus never quits.
Moment by Moment in Jesus,
Brooke
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Twenty years later, I met my dad face-to-face. My father now professes a relationship with Christ, and was baptized in the Colorado River near his residence. Prior to this, the Lord granted me forgiveness toward my dad, just as Christ forgave me. My father is married to Shirley, for thirty years now. Shirley currently battles leukemia. Consequences to those years of rebellion remain. Christ continues to work in this situation. If the Lord leads you to do so, please pray for Shirley and my dad. I am honored He dedicated his latest book, Strongheart, to me. I desire that he dedicate his next books to my siblings.
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For more on the Practice of Forgiveness, visit:
As I sang during a college missions’ conference, “Yes, Lord, yes…to your will and to your way…yes, Lord, yes, I will answer and obey,” I knew the mighty voice of God called my name, Brooke, to go and serve him wherever his Spirit led. Within six months, this eager, young woman boarded a plane for 
Seventeen years ago now, a poor college girl, the first-born, addressed her single mother and shared that God would raise $4,500 for her travel to a spec in the ocean on the other side of the world to tell children about Jesus. Imagine a mother’s reaction! Laughter. Shock. Fear. I am sure my mother experienced all of those emotions, but she nevertheless supported me in that step of obedience to the Lord. God touched the hearts of many supporters, and the finances arrived for the venture. The other young lady and I trained in St. Louis, MO, with 
If you have ever traveled on a mission trip, you know that feeling of the first step off the airplane. Immediately, the sounds, the smells, the sights overwhelm you. Soon, the tastes would challenge you, too. You push through the discomfort. Home is very far away, and you are quite attune to that fact! Adrenalin pumps through your veins. You experience a nervous excitement. Keenly aware, you know the Lord is near. Oh, He is always that close to you! This time, though, you are so dependent upon him that you draw closer to God.
Showered with hugs and presents, and each clutching the gorgeous local flower, the girl and I joined the family for a car ride across the island to their home….our home…for the summer. With windows rolled down, we squeeze into the tiny car. For the first time, we realize we brought too many things in our suitcases…things we thought we must not leave. Well-coached to down-size, we considered one giant suitcase each as very minimal. How naive! God quickly changed our mind-sets. God still worked through our short-comings. Lavished with items from America, we knew those things would be of greater use in Mauritius.
Upon traveling by car, the wind and the dirt blew, and tasseled, and dirtied our freshly brushed hair and newly washed faces. With gorgeous volcanic mountains along the clear, blue waters which rolled onto the sandy shore, the beauty of God’s incredible design on that island took my breath. Mauritius served Europe as Hawaii served North America…as an exotic island get-away…with resorts designed exclusively for the rich and famous.
Just as I thought I would burst from all the beauty, the smell of the fishery in the city and the unbelievable smog from the harbor ships and vehicle fumes, took my breath in a 
different way! Too many buses, cars, mopeds and people crammed into small spaces. Trash lined the streets. Tin huts erected for homes. People bargained for lower prices in the markets. Children played outside wearing only a filthy shirt, a cloth diaper, or no clothes at all. Did the wealthy fly to this place, and partake of the “good life” while they ignored the extreme poverty all around them? 
According to the father driving the car, they sure did! “Only the love of Christ compels one to genuinely care, and impact lives eternally,” the family stated.
As we rode in the vehicle, the culture continued to shock us. The way the natives drove their vehicles, passing in the grass, passing in the lane of on-coming traffic, blowing the horn constantly, and swerving back into the correct lane just before impact, nearly stopped my heart! Were there no traffic laws on this island? Where were the police? What type of social norms existed in this society? And why was that skinny cow in the middle of the street, anyway?
Finally, the other girl (now a friend, wife, mother of three, and attorney) and I arrived at our destination. That summer, God revealed to us more about himself. We cried out to him for everything! Through Good News Clubs in churches, in homes, and even in little tin shacks, many children accepted Jesus as their Lord and Savior.
Joyously in mid-July, I stood in front of a crowd of children in one of those tin shacks, holes cut for windows, thin fabrics for curtains, shifting slightly in the breeze, and received a “Happy Birthday” song in French Creole. I gasped with gratefulness that God allowed such a special moment for me…and for the children. Some even recorded my birthday as their “spiritual birthday,” the day they asked forgiveness for their sins from the One True Living God, Jesus Christ.
Most definitely, that summer proved to be one of the most exciting experiences of my life! God did “more than I could ask or imagine” during those months. God changed my heart for the world. He opened my eyes to the needs of others in greater ways. He cultivated a heart of compassion and deep gratitude within me. He revealed more of my own sinful nature and my selfishness. And he graciously used me to spread the gospel in Africa!
My nephew, Daniel, now receives the fullness of the blessings of being a part of his family. Not only has he been adopted by Jeff and Brenna, but He received the free gift of salvation through Jesus Christ. He is redeemed from sin, cleansed and forgiven. Daniel is assured that he will live forever with Jesus, and with his earthly father and his earthly mother, who partook of the gift, too. Their family celebrates the adoption of Daniel every year, termed Gotcha Day!
Thankfully, Avery rebounded. After so many visits to different hospitals throughout the state, it made sense to return to Raleigh to be near one major hospital because the new norm involved hospital stays. So, we embraced a new year of new schools for both girls and a new job for Burwell. A few months passed. For the Fall Festival at church, we dressed Avery as a bumble bee. 
Then, friends brought a birthday cake to our place and celebrated Avery’s fourth birthday with us. But a week later, Avery didn’t have her best day at school with tummy issues. Lindy and I sang with her at bed time…”Jesus Loves Me.” Avery always smiled a huge grin when we sang that song. I asked her, “Avery, do you know Jesus?” She smiled even wider.
When we returned home, we scooped Lindy into our arms. “Sissy went to the hospital,” we stated. “Yes, I know,” Lindy replied. As noted, this was normal. “Avery went see Jesus today.” Lindy smiled with joy for her, and then, she realized. Lindy cried. At five-years-old, it hit her. She understood. We shared, “Avery isn’t coming back to our home, but we will see her again.” The greatest thing to Lindy at that time was for God to answer the prayer she asked for Avery every day…for Avery to ride a bike. Very seriously, Lindy peered at us and said, “I bet Avery is riding her bike on that street of gold right now.” I said, “I bet she IS biking with Jesus, Lindy. I bet she is.”
Hello! I'm Brooke.
