One Mother's Story

By Beverly E. Romanow

A daughter's rebellion followed by her shocking, untimely death in a jail cell, brings unthinkable grief and a search for truth. Anger and grief prevail in the mother's life as she struggles with suppressing anger toward crumbling societal foundations and toward God. God responds through a modern day prophet, by instructing her to write a book and further challenges her to devise a strategy to mobilize people, advocating change in the criminal justice system for greater safety and safeguards for children who are in conflict with the law. As days turned into months, then into years, life and peace begin to return to a sorrowing mother's heart as she learns to focus heart and mind on the Living God, just as promised in His word. He had been there first. He, too, had lost a child. He knew. God's only Son was perfect. Leanne's behavior, far from perfection, yet she was deeply loved. Left behind, her sister and mother search for meaning and answers in a far from perfect world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Word Alive Press
• Release date: Jan 4, 2015
• ISBN: 9781770693487

Book preview

Conclusion

Introduction

I believe God does send prophets to provide clarity and to focus our hearts on the issues He wants us to examine in our lives. Dennis Cramer is a modern-day prophet from Pennsylvania who, at the invitation of a group of churches from Regina, Saskatchewan, ministered in my area several times between 2004 and 2006. His Christ-centered, Bible-based, prophetic ministry, books, and prophetic schools have been an undeniable encouragement to me. God is definitely working though him.

This book is written because of a prophetic word that was spoken over me by Dennis Cramer. I knew that the word was true, and, obedience being essential in our relationship with the Almighty, I took seven years to write this story. It was a painful journey, but the destination has definitely been worthwhile.

This is the full text of the prophecy:

Woman of God, I’ve been dealing with you.

I’ve been talking to you.

You have struggled throughout your life wondering, Was that God or did I make that up?

You’ve been a humble servant; you’ve not wanted to get ahead of Me.

You’ve many times said, Lord, I need some signs, I need some wonders; I need to know what is God and I need to know what isn’t.

But the truth is, Little One, I’ve not mapped things out for you quite the way you’ve wanted them. I’ve had you on an adventure. I’ve had you on a spiritual ride you didn’t sign up for. In fact, six months ago, you said, Lord, I’m too old for this. But the truth is, you love it. You love the ride you’re on. You love the kingdom that you’re in. You love the supernatural. You’re a supernatural junky. You love the supernatural power of God. You do. You love to worship Me.

You’ve been hooked on praise for seventeen years. You’ve been hooked on My Word for seventeen years. You’ve been hooked on My kingdom for seventeen years. And over the next three years, I’m going to finish several key lessons that I’ve been teaching you in your life. You’ve got thirty-six months of further training left. After that, I’m going to open doors. I’m going to advance you, then I’m going to let you establish your own ministry. I’m going to make you a great influence on the prairies. I’m going to let you travel from the West to the East, from the East to the West.

Woman of God, I’ve been telling you to write a book. I’ve been telling you to write a book. I want you to write it. I want you to have Chapter One done before Christmas. I want you to get it done because I want you to begin to devise a strategy to mobilize people. I’m even going to give you a heart for young teenage girls, and you are going to find yourself a mother to many—the Mother Teresa of Canada.

I’m going to direct you to go to the aboriginal people. I’m going to send you as a little, blond-looking Caucasian girl. I’m going to send you to the First Nations people and they will receive you as a prophetess.

Oh, I’ve been talking to you. I’ve been telling you about a prophetic call and you’ve been getting all nervous about it: O, but God, I am not a Deborah. No, you’re not, but you are a prophetess and the prophetic anointing shall double through the laying on of hands. Word of Knowledge, Word of Wisdom, Gift of Prophecy, and Discerning of Spirits shall begin to bubble up. Bubble, bubble, bubble, bubble, bubble, bubble.

Doors will open—supernatural ones. Do not promote yourself. In fact, I want you to go hide, and I’ll go find you. It will be a proof that My hand is upon you, for promotion does come from Me.

I was unable to interpret this prophetic word until 2011. In the prophecy, the Lord spoke to me, You’ve been hooked on praise for seventeen years. You’ve been hooked on My Word for seventeen years. You’ve been hooked on My kingdom for seventeen years. I was forty years old when the Lord granted me a spiritual healing and deliverance, and now I am fifty-seven. It has been precisely seventeen years that I’ve been hooked on Jesus.

I am now able to envision the spoken word of this prophecy coming into focus in my life. The Lord is a good Father. He only gives us what we can bear, according to our level of development and our readiness. It is exciting to anticipate what He will do next, as I look forward to being alongside Him for the ride.

1

At 04:23, August 14, 2002, I was awakened by a loud knocking at the front door. The knocking was growing louder and more persistent as I pulled on my housecoat, hurrying toward the sound. The place felt strange to me at that hour of the morning. We were housesitting for two weeks in the home of friends who were out of town for the summer. Our old house had sold and our new home was being redecorated with fresh paint and carpet.

The light over the front entryway flickered and burned out as I hit it, but the outdoor light shone on two people, a middle aged man and a much shorter, dark-haired woman. I asked who they were as I opened the inside door. The man said, I am a police officer, ma’am. We need to talk to you.

I wondered about his casual dress: a tan zipper jacket and nondescript pair of pants. He looked desperate, like he needed to spit something out. The woman had an expressionless face. Neither appeared professional in any way.

Do you have some identification? You don’t look like a police officer to me.

He began nervously searching his pockets, saying, Please let us in. You can believe we are from the police department. He told me his name and rank, and her name. We really need to talk to you. I am a detective. That’s why I am not in uniform. He also explained that the woman next to him wasn’t an officer; she was a volunteer with Victims Services.

It was his sense of urgency that overcame my uneasiness to open the door to them in the dark of the early morning. I wondered if Leanne could be in trouble. She often stayed out all night, and was frequently in trouble with police. Her most recent charges had been related to smashing windshields on cars on South Hill; she had already been on probation related to operating a vehicle over .08.

I had given Leanne a choice. She could either follow our now bare-bones house rules, or she would have to get her own place. Leanne had chosen to sleep with her boyfriend in her room, both of them knowing well that I disapproved. My expectancy had been made clear to them; if Andrew stayed over, he slept on the couch. Leanne had done her best to control me by manipulative behaviours.

It was Leanne’s second night out of the house. The last words she had said to me were Fuck off as she strode out of the house in a huff. Considering her history, I knew she would be back with an apology.

I opened the door to the two strangers on the step. Come in. I’ll go ahead and turn the lights on in the kitchen. I still think it’s strange you don’t have any ID. The bright kitchen light revealed their sombre faces as I turned to face them.

You’d better sit down, Bev. I’ve got some really bad news, warned the man. He stood facing me intently. I looked at him in silence as waves of fear and dread began to flow through my heart and mind. Please sit down, we have some really bad news we have to tell you, he said again. My mind began to race…was it a car accident? Leanne? Melissa? Mom and Dad? The urgency in his voice…the solemn look on the face of the woman with him…I remained standing, stunned in fear-filled expectancy. You’d better sit down, he repeated.

What is it? Just tell me. I looked at the man steadily. Tell me now.

Leanne was arrested tonight and hung herself in cells. She’s dead.

What? Are you joking? I said in angry disbelief. Is this some kind of horrible joke? Waves of nausea joined in the horror.

No, it is not. It is the truth.

This has got to be a horrible joke, I said, but the