Always pleased to meet His Angels in disguise!
I'm naming this page STORIES but don't be surprised if you'll find a little bit of this and a little bit of that! At times they'll be just fiction and at other times they will be true life experiences, either my own or someone else's. So please feel free to send me what you've got - I will review and let you know about the posting
JIM "BUBBA" BAY - Effective 3/25/17 This post has been deleted.
Mindy Silva
Have you ever delivered the message of salvation to someone, and the very next day the person ends up murdered? Murdered, not died of natural cause, or from an accident or disease.
What I am about to describe is a true story. I was thirteen or so and attending a Pentecostal church with my family. We lived in Hell’s Kitchen at the time, in NYC. My best friend lived in the building right next to ours and her father and mother owned a factory not too far from there.
One day, I was standing outside our building and her father was on his way home. He stopped to chat briefly and I invited him to our Church services that coming weekend. It was Thursday. The man reacted to my invitation a bit vociferous, telling me he didn’t need to go to Church, etc., etc. I snapped back with the gospel telling him he might not have another chance to make a decision to go, as I kept urging him to find God. He didn’t need to find God he said.
This was my first one-to-one encounter in preaching the gospel. I had done so from the pulpit, on the streets of NYC, in evangelistic rallies, in other churches across the five Boroughs, and even overseas. But never one-on-one. Not having done so previously, I was still very insistent.
The next day, during the evening, we heard loud shouts and screams floating up from the basement of the apartment building.  Now, considering where we lived, this was nothing new. So, we didn’t meddle, figuring it was gang-related.
My friend came by the next morning, Saturday, telling us her father had not come home the previous night and that they were all worried, for he carried the bankroll on him. Then I told her what we had heard the previous night.
The police came and after asking me some questions, went down to the basement. Her father had been murdered...not too far from where we had stood that Thursday and I had asked him to give his heart to the Lord.
I buried that memory, hardly ever resurfacing again throughout the years, but this morning it popped out of nowhere.  I can remember the fire that burned within me as I tried to tell the man to accept Christ. The memory is too vivid, as if I was there all over again. And I relive the fire.
When we feel that fire in our heart to speak to someone, or put our words in writing, there is a recipient waiting at the other end whose ears or eyes need to hear the message.
We may find ourselves at that moment, questioning ourselves, but we shouldn’t. Thank God that at that age I was young enough not to know any different.  Now, after living for the Lord for so many years, I can look back and pray that as this man was being murdered, he had the conscience to cry out to God to save his soul.
The other day I wrote a piece on relationships; the roles sometimes assigned by default by the husband to the wife. As I wrote, I found it strange, for I knew it was not something I was going to post. As I was nudged to keep writing, I knew enough to know it was meant for someone to hear this, I just didn’t know who.
Right after I finished typing it, I received a long-distance call from a very close friend who is taking baby steps in her new walk with the Lord.  As she spoke, it became evident to me; she was the person I had to deliver the message to.  As I read it to her, things clicked into place for her and the situation facing her.
The message we are responsible for delivering through our lips or our pen, cannot be diluted, or ignored, or put off 'til later, unless it is meant to, for reasons not obvious to you at the moment.
Many might think that a title, or degree, is needed to bring this message across. It might, or it might not – it all depends on the audience of your mission field. The results might be evidenced immediately, or they might not. But if there is fire in your heart behind the message, then there is fire in the results of the message, one you may, or may not, get to see.
And, as His messengers, it is not for us to see, but to sow.
©Mindy Silva 2014

Yesterday,  had an appointment with my Podiatrist, and was nearly slain by the frantic drivers trying to get parking spots. (The hospital has a "campus" where 2,000 doctors have offices, and there is parking for 30 or so cars. Most drivers are ancient, like myself, and are focused only on moving that car into that empty space. Oh...there's a pedestrian in the way? Too bad! I don't want to be late for this appointment, which I am an hour early for...and I am entitled to do whatever pleases me, so there!)
I discussed the possibilities of wearing a "camo" outfit next month, armed with a Glock special for shooting out tires...or sending warning salvos across the prow of the offending auto...or a ninja suit with springs on my feet, enabling me to leap from car hood to car hood...BUT...
I did ask him, in case I am suddenly deceased on the way to his appointment...that he run out and clip my toenails before my mortal husk is carted away. I don't want the coroner's report to note that my toenails were in an appalling and indescribable condition.
He was laughing so hard...said most would ask for a priest, or a "man of God...” but my dying request would be for someone to get the Podiatrist ASAP.  (His office is on the first floor, so I do not think I am asking too much!)
We then discussed the appropriate attire for a Podiatrist at his viewing...instead of a waxen face...his feet will be upon the pillow, toes gloriously highlighted...perhaps a spotlight to further display from whence sprung his vast wealth...a soothing rendition of "Burdened by Bunions No More" playing softly in the background...
And so...another day in the life...
©Louise Hudson 2013
Mindy Silva
This story is a bit different from the usual stories but it does have to do with His mysterious ways, how His love transcended the physical barrier of communication between human and animal.  I’ve had my two cats since 2006 when they were less than three months old kittens. I got them on a Monday from a coworker, and the Friday of that same week, I had to put my Beagle to sleep because he was too far gone to be saved. So, my cats and I developed the same close bond I had had with my Beagle.
The story involving one of my cats took place in 2008. I was going through some emotional upheaval in my life having to do with my failing marriage and with some other things taking place side by side to this at the time. I needed to hear from the Lord on things that were puzzling me, and my soul needed comforting. Then one day, as I was lying back on my bed crying, this particular cat who is used to making himself comfortable on my chest or my thigh, was laying close to my left thigh. Between my tears, I happened to notice he was looking at me very intensely. I talked to him then, like I usually do, telling him I knew he understood and that someday we would all be in heaven and how much I loved him and that I knew he loved me too. Then he blinked his eyes at me very slowly. (Cats and dogs tend to do this to let you know they love you.) So, I said to him that if he understood what I was telling him, to blink his eyes again at me twice. He then moved closer to me, put out his little paw, touched my thigh, and looked straight at me and… blinked his eyes twice! But, not only that, I asked him for him to do it again, and he then laid his head on my thigh, looked up at me and blinked again twice! 
I was so comforted, and my spirits lifted for I knew only God can get pass the physical barriers to reach us with His love and comfort!
© Mindy Silva 2013
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