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This Is A Custom Widget

This Sliding Bar can be switched on or off in theme options, and can take any widget you throw at it or even fill it with your custom HTML Code. Its perfect for grabbing the attention of your viewers. Choose between 1, 2, 3 or 4 columns, set the background color, widget divider color, activate transparency, a top border or fully disable it on desktop and mobile.

Meet Christine

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Meet Christine 2017-04-20T00:39:12+00:00

Christine Malkemes is a writer. Her dream is to encourage, equip and inspire women and men around the world in a deeper relationship with Christ.

Her journey is filled with adventures, hard knocks, and great responsibility. The poem Life reveals her beginnings. She’s credentialed with the Assemblies of God, a retired Army Officer and a former member of the Women’s Army Corps. Her love is for her family, but her passion is to know God and make Him known to others. She writes with a prayer on her lips, an open Bible and a trusting heart in the Holy Spirit to lead, guide and teach.

The featured photo above is her family: Her husband, Bob, and two grown children, Matthew and Cheri. That was a few years ago. Her son is married to her daughter-in-love, Nicole, and they have one son, JP.

Her daughter, Cheri, has not found the love of her life yet.

Bob & Chris today:

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“Pull up a chair and let’s get better acquainted.”

I’m a well-worn book, with over sixty years of life, filled with pages of hope, chapters of violence, and paragraphs of drama, beauty, ugliness, salvation, fear, joy and so much more. 

It’s a work in progress so each turned page reveals something new – a mystery, a love story and splashes of humor. I’m human so this a book with familiar chapters and dog-eared pages. Look closely and you’ll find beautiful verses hidden in places that may cause you pause thinking how they feel so familiar. A snapshot picture on my journey to a yielded life.

Here’s a page from my journal you might enjoy: simple poem my journal called Life

Blessings –

Unknown

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Life

Life.
The word sits there so benign.
Memories like snapshots flip through
The inner recesses of my mind.

The run-down shack.
Water flowing from the creek out back.
Arizona sunshine bursting off mountain oak.
Wood burning stove releasing morning smoke.

Momma tip money fills our bodies lean
Biscuits, potatoes and beans.
So many children in one bed.
Eight from head to head.

White bread hidden in the cupboard high.
Momma’s husband breathes a sigh.
Hush little children, Don’t you cry.
He’ll be gone by and by.

Momma sleeps the night shift away.
Braided hair, slipped on shoes, in a hushed way.
Close the crooked door to this world.
Kittens on the couch curled.

Walking two-mile dirt road for the bus
School, an escape for us.
Jostled, dirty and spat upon.
Silenced by such wicked fun.

Hush little children, “Don’t you cry.”
It will all be over by and by.
One breathes a heavy sigh.
Wondering, “Why?”

Days pass into weeks and weeks into years.
The children grow up moving from fear to fears.
With barefoot feet, one runs away
No void is felt in the fray.

With one look the mean streets take her in.
There piled on her head sin after sin.
Pain added to her familiar feel of fear.
Only in the dark you see a tear.

“God if you’re real, You’ll get me out of here!”
She screamed to the past and crystal blue air.
Silence. Silence. Silence. Was the reply.
Falling down she cried, “Why?”

In the unknown world of love.
The prayer traveled to places above.
With a lifted head of His dear Son.
Whispered answer, “I’ll be the one.”

Angels sent to her side.
On a plane, she did ride.
At O’Hare, she landed sweet.
Into her Uncle’s arms, she did meet.

Takes her home to rest her head.
Days she sleeps in the given bed.
Prayers lifted up for her keep.
Jesus met her in her sleep.

Lifting her weary head
And into her heart He said,
“Never will I leave you; Never will I forsake you.”
He removed her fear, pain and darkness too.

The rest is history.
That child was me.
A yielded heart I did receive.
This daughter sweet He’ll never leave.

Life.
The word sits there so benign.
Memories like snapshots flip through
The inner recesses of my mind.