You know its ironic ...
  we start doubting God in our lives
when we try with every ounce of our own strength
to keep our lives together....
and it all falls apart because we are not strong enough
or there enough or wise enough ...
then we say "where are You God?" ...
then we try to find newer and better ways of doing things....
and when things fall through
we blame God....

The Irony is that we really lose out in fullness of life when
we are under our own human strength and capacity ...
God makes His Strength Power Wisdom and Guidence available in our lives every moment of the day through Jesus Christ the Lord .... we just dont take it, we Just don't take Him, ...
then we cry about it....



.. I cry too much.

My Story for HIS Glory:

The Testimony of Monica De Asa

Chapter 1

Happy happy happy

Picture perfect family.

White washed brown.

Didn’t know my identity.

Didn’t know spirituality.

Didn’t know much of anything, just what mom and dad showed me.

Dressed pretty on Sunday to sit, kneel, and stand.

Went to confession and made up sins.

Said the “Our Father” to the air.

Saw Jesus in books but didn’t know that He was everywhere.

We drove around the states.

Ate a lot of pancakes.

Chased waves in the ocean and almost drowned.

Made snow angels on the ground.

Climbed up high and took a sled down.

Buford my Basset Hound dragged me around.

Mom looked like Janet from Three’s Company.

Dad looked like Tubs from Miami.

My sister and I would put dances together for their anniversary. 

Then Joseph Anthony was born.

Soon after that the family was torn.

Because mom was sneaking out the back door.

Because dad needed to control.

And then the snowball was on a role...

Chapter 2

Full speed ahead this snowball goes.

Mom’s affair was out of control.

Dad began to have psychotic episodes.

Yelling and violence bled into the walls.

Infusions of evil saturated our souls.

Insecurity with pride.

Selfishness with lies.

Neglect with abuse.

To hell we went, the devil got loose.

Then they were separated.

Thought all the bad would be alleviated.

But things were only aggravated.

Mom began the dating scene.

My sister went collecting marines.

My brother was too young to know.

So I stepped up and took the mother role.

Dad was our escape on Saturday and Sunday.

Fed us well and kept us busy.

Rewarded our presence and love with money.

But Monday came back and through Friday we were lonely.

Mom would leave for days and weeks.

Sister lived it up on a party scheme.

I had to keep him sheltered, I couldn’t let him see.

I needed him as much as he needed me.

Woke him up and cleaned him up.

Walked to school and packed his lunch.

Walked him home and made him dinner.

Washed his clothes and tucked him in.

The next morning did all over again.

And again,

And again,

And again…

I was ten.

Chapter 3

The divorce was now in process.

The stress fed my dad’s psychosis.

Attempting murders and hearing voices.

This mess of sin was just atrocious.

His soul was filthy.

But he was good to me.

I loved him because he was my daddy.

I couldn’t keep it in any longer.

I told dad about the neglect thinking he would make it better.

He took Tony to the Philippines and left me letter.

And my beaten heart broke that winter.

No mother,

No sister,

No father,

No brother,

No savior.

But I’m a survivor.

I’ll get love else where…