I have spent my entire adult life trying to figure out what my passion really is...or better put "Why did God put me here?" James' passion is finance and serving the inner city. So together we started a financial peace ministry in a lower income area of our community. While I enjoyed doing this, it really wasn't MY passion.
I always thought I would mentor younger women in marriage and motherhood. Unfortunately I didn't get married or start a family until I was well into my thirties, so I'm right there with the twenty something brides and moms soaking up somebody else's valuable knowledge.
Add on to the fact that while I love being a mama, it doesn't come natural to me. My advice would end up being, "Girls...come Friday you will feel like you've been run over by a very large truck. A truck that ran over you and backed up and did it again. And It's okay. Hiding in the closet with a glass of wine is totally normal."
(Then word on the street would be, "Boy that Barnett lady's advise? Really Bad." And nobody would show up again.)
I have a dear friend who mentors single woman to wait patiently on the best that God has in store for them. She is AMAZING at this and her ministry and grown far beyond her expectations. I would love to do something like this, but I imagine that grace and patience are not the first words people would use to describe me.
I guess this was a lot of words to say that I did not choose a ministry; one was chosen for me on the worst day of my life. On May 29, 2012 my mom passed away very unexpectedly. I was in shock, heartbroken, bitter, angry and very very pregnant. While I would have loved to stay and set up house in that dark pit, I couldn't remain there for very long. The stress and anger were doing a number on my body and I still had to make it through the final five weeks of pregnancy.
Since Valium and vodka are frowned upon during pregnancy, James thought it would be best for me to talk to a professional, which would have been golden assuming I wanted to talk. Thank God for a couple of friends who had also experienced great loss and were really persistent. One friend lost her husband when their son was a few months old. She brought me books, called, knocked on my door, and forced me to talk. Another dear friend lost her mom almost a year prior and walked me through every emotion...right down to the ugly acceptance.
Now that the anger and bitterness have faded, I can see clearly where God needs me most. So here it is, my name is Anne-Michelle and I have the suckiest ministry around and I honestly hope nobody shows up. Ultimately, I didn't have to be patient, graceful, wise, or knowledgeable. I just had to walk through the valley and make it back to tell somebody else, "I know what your going through, it hurts like hell, and while it may not feel like it now, by God's grace you will survive."
One of my best friends lost her dad two weeks ago after an eight year battle with cancer. Stephanie and I have been friends for over thirty years so she is like a sister to me. I had known for a little while that the end was close, and made sure that I was there for her because I knew. I knew where she was mentally, I knew where she was physically and worse, I knew where she was going to be in a few days. What I didn't know was that while I was ministering to Stephanie, Mr. Brown was preparing to be an even greater minister to me with just a few hand written notes.
Mr. Brown's entire eulogy was delivered solely on the hand written notes in the margins of his Bible. (Just take a second and let that soak in.) He would write down specials dates, versus, store love notes from his wife, and jot down what God was saying through His Word. I learned that while Mr. Brown prayed for physical healing, because miracles happen every day, he mostly prayed for God's will and found peace in the eternal picture. Mr. Brown knew that every day was a gift. An extra chance to tell your family you love them. An extra chance to heal hurts and ask for forgiveness. An extra chance to walk closer and deeper with God. And an extra chance to make the margins count.
Good bye Mr. Brown. You truly were a good and faithful servant. We will see you soon, but in the mean time, go give mama a hug and y'all have a good laugh that Catholics and Baptists really do both get to heaven. : )
Add on to the fact that while I love being a mama, it doesn't come natural to me. My advice would end up being, "Girls...come Friday you will feel like you've been run over by a very large truck. A truck that ran over you and backed up and did it again. And It's okay. Hiding in the closet with a glass of wine is totally normal."
(Then word on the street would be, "Boy that Barnett lady's advise? Really Bad." And nobody would show up again.)
I have a dear friend who mentors single woman to wait patiently on the best that God has in store for them. She is AMAZING at this and her ministry and grown far beyond her expectations. I would love to do something like this, but I imagine that grace and patience are not the first words people would use to describe me.
I guess this was a lot of words to say that I did not choose a ministry; one was chosen for me on the worst day of my life. On May 29, 2012 my mom passed away very unexpectedly. I was in shock, heartbroken, bitter, angry and very very pregnant. While I would have loved to stay and set up house in that dark pit, I couldn't remain there for very long. The stress and anger were doing a number on my body and I still had to make it through the final five weeks of pregnancy.
Since Valium and vodka are frowned upon during pregnancy, James thought it would be best for me to talk to a professional, which would have been golden assuming I wanted to talk. Thank God for a couple of friends who had also experienced great loss and were really persistent. One friend lost her husband when their son was a few months old. She brought me books, called, knocked on my door, and forced me to talk. Another dear friend lost her mom almost a year prior and walked me through every emotion...right down to the ugly acceptance.
Now that the anger and bitterness have faded, I can see clearly where God needs me most. So here it is, my name is Anne-Michelle and I have the suckiest ministry around and I honestly hope nobody shows up. Ultimately, I didn't have to be patient, graceful, wise, or knowledgeable. I just had to walk through the valley and make it back to tell somebody else, "I know what your going through, it hurts like hell, and while it may not feel like it now, by God's grace you will survive."
One of my best friends lost her dad two weeks ago after an eight year battle with cancer. Stephanie and I have been friends for over thirty years so she is like a sister to me. I had known for a little while that the end was close, and made sure that I was there for her because I knew. I knew where she was mentally, I knew where she was physically and worse, I knew where she was going to be in a few days. What I didn't know was that while I was ministering to Stephanie, Mr. Brown was preparing to be an even greater minister to me with just a few hand written notes.
Mr. Brown's entire eulogy was delivered solely on the hand written notes in the margins of his Bible. (Just take a second and let that soak in.) He would write down specials dates, versus, store love notes from his wife, and jot down what God was saying through His Word. I learned that while Mr. Brown prayed for physical healing, because miracles happen every day, he mostly prayed for God's will and found peace in the eternal picture. Mr. Brown knew that every day was a gift. An extra chance to tell your family you love them. An extra chance to heal hurts and ask for forgiveness. An extra chance to walk closer and deeper with God. And an extra chance to make the margins count.
Good bye Mr. Brown. You truly were a good and faithful servant. We will see you soon, but in the mean time, go give mama a hug and y'all have a good laugh that Catholics and Baptists really do both get to heaven. : )
