Psalm 32: The Joy of Forgiving

By Amanda Lamb

I was born and raised in a small town in south Alabama where I’ve lived most of my life and am now residing. I am a member at Harvest Church in Dothan, Alabama. My oldest daughter Jordan attends South Alabama in Mobile, soon to graduate and my youngest daughter Makenzie attends Troy University in Troy, Alabama. I’m a self-taught arti

• Language: English
• Publisher: LitFire Publishing
• Release date: Nov 8, 2019
• ISBN: 9781643984469

Amanda Lamb

Amanda Lamb is a professional television journalist with 23 years of experience. She covers the crime beat for an award-winning CBS affiliate in the southeast. Amanda is also the author of six books, a wife, and the mother of two little girls. She received her undergraduate degree from Duke University and her master's degree in journalism from Northwestern University.  

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Psalm 32

‘The Joy of Forgiving’

Copyright © 2018 by Amanda Lamb

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher or author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Although every precaution has been taken to verify the accuracy of the information contained herein, the author and publisher assume no responsibility for any errors or omissions. No liability is assumed for damages that may result from the use of information contained within.

ISBN: 978-1-64398-446-9

Printed in the United States of America

LitFire LLC

1-800-511-9787

www.litfirepublishing.com

[e-mail]

Psalm 32

‘The Joy of Forgiving’

Amanda Lamb

Contents

INTRODUCTION

PART ONE My Journey and Sacrifice

CHAPTER ONE Living in Fear

CHAPTER TWO Stepping Stones

CHAPTER THREE Hearing His Voice

CHAPTER FOUR A Lamp to Light My Feet

CHAPTER FIVE God Has This

CHAPTER SIX He is Always With Me

CHAPTER SEVEN I Will Follow You

CHAPTER EIGHT He is My Everlasting Light

CHAPTER NINE We All Have Scars

PART TWO The Deliverance

CHAPTER TEN In His Timing

CHAPTER ELEVEN He is Our Comforter

CHAPTER TWELVE Learning to Be Still

CHAPTER THIRTEEN Love Anchors the Soul

CHAPTER FOURTEEN Living in His Glory

EPILOGUE

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I would like to dedicate this book to my friends

and family that put up with me while

I was fasting and finding my true calling,

AND for pointing me in His perfect direction.

Katie, Kristie, Rob, Cheryl, Delbra, Aunt Barbara and Amber.

Thank you Spencer and Whitney Sanders!

I would like to thank my daughters for being my sweet angels on this earth!

Jordan and Makenzie- I love you two girls

more than all the pizza’s in the world!!!

My Mom- I love you So Much,

you‘ve Always been my shelter from the storm.

My Dad- Thank you Daddy for my life and

your love for me even if you didn’t know how to really show it.

And to God be the Glory!!!

Thank you Jesus for your Forgiveness,

Grace and Mercy!

In loving memory of Chuck Lamb,

may you be forever young.

Faith is confidence in the destination -

Faith is taking the first step even when you don’t see the whole staircase.

- Martin Luther King

INTRODUCTION

My life has been full of tragedy, destruction, alcoholism and anger, passed down from my father, his father and his father’s father. We have been afflicted with a Generational Curse passed down from generation to generation to generation. The term Generational Curse comes from the Law of Generations which God revealed to Moses.

And he passed in front of Moses, proclaiming,

"The Lord, the Lord, the compassionate

And gracious God, slow to anger,

Abounding in love and faithfulness, maintaining Love to thousands,

And forgiving wickedness,

Rebellion and sin.

Yet He does not leave the guilty unpunished;

He punishes the children

And their children for the sin

Of the fathers to the third

And fourth generation."

Exodus 34:6-7

My father talked very little to us about his childhood. I usually heard bits and pieces of his family life when it was screamed out in fights. He revealed some things to his wife, which is my mother. He had a lot of anger that seemed to rage up out of nowhere for no real reason. This anger was taken out on all of us, especially my mother and my oldest brother, his first born. I’ve always known my father to drink heavily straight from the bottle mostly and it was usually whiskey.

I was the third born after two older brothers. I have been in my slowly spiraling storm of life, sometimes feeling desperate for an answer, desperate for a safe place, running and never finding where I truly belonged or who I was. Subduing and drowning my fears at times with alcohol and sleeping countless days and nights to not just forget, but to get through this life. I find myself in another day, another month, yet another year. Not embracing the true meaning of the life that God gave me.

PART ONE

My Journey and Sacrifice

CHAPTER ONE

Living in Fear

I find myself in a huge room sleeping in double beds connected around a huge circular window that reached from the ceiling to the floor. The glass was very clear and I could see people starting to drive by outside, into the office parking lot. There were many others sleeping in here as well, it seemed like twenty or more. I felt as if I knew them, as if I worked with them. Everyone’s comforters were of a rusty-orange color. The traffic outside made us awaken, we began to move around and stretch and talk amongst each other.

In a few minutes we were all dressed and ready to start the day. I walked into the kitchen where our boss was standing, which was my mother. She said no one would be working today because there was not enough work for us. I was then in a dark corner overlooking a large room that was much like my childhood living room, but much larger.

My mom was in the middle of the room laughing and talking to two small children that I didn’t know. There were many others waiting to speak with my mother, not children though.

As I stood in the corner watching her I could feel the love radiating from her being. She was so loved and everyone just wanted to talk to her and be near her. I started crying and I was trying to get to her, but I couldn’t reach her. I wanted everyone to know that it was her wedding anniversary. I wanted them to tell her that they were happy for her and to wish her a happy anniversary.

I really wanted to see her, to talk to her, but I couldn’t get to her. I went to the line of people and I just couldn’t seem to get the words out.. I then found myself outside with one of my friends. We were beside a chain linked fence at the end of the yard around the corner. The roads were unpaved and everything seemed really dirty where we were walking. In the distance I look up and I could see my father and one of his brothers walking side by side in our direction.

I think to myself, I thought you were dead. He was heavily intoxicated and he started talking to my friend beside me. I wanted to ask him Why? Why had he done the things that he had. I stood there speechless and scared with my mouth gaping open. I then started looking at the dark muddy ground that saturated my shoes and my jeans.

It was like the mud was creeping up the walls of my dream. I couldn’t listen to what he was saying, it was all running together. I just wanted him to go away and stop talking. His voice was irritating and making me feel uncomfortable and disgusted.

My father then looked at me, after what seemed like forever. He had a recognizable rage in his eyes and in his face that I had seen many times before. I began running and he began chasing me. I ran through the woods behind me, trying as hard as I could to get somewhere safe, anywhere.

I seemed to be on a path that led me to a long darkened hallway made of a dark stained wood. I believe I was now in my family home where I had grown up as a child. Every time I looked back he was behind me, still chasing me. I’m not sure where I am now, but I have a feeling I’m in my bedroom, my childhood safe place.

I stop in the middle of my room which was dark and empty; he then catches me. I start screaming and crying and trying to break free from his deathly grip on my arm. He turned me to face him , he was looking at me as I’m crying and pulling away with every ounce of energy that I have in my much smaller frame to his six foot large build, I try to break away and run. He then throws me backwards.

I awake, in a panic. My heart racing, my pillow is soaked from all the tears in my dream and now the tears I wipe away from my drenched face. Another bad dream, another childhood nightmare, another start to a potential bad day. Where do they end? I have an overwhelming feeling of anxiety and the deep need to go back to sleep. Not to dream, but to try and forget.

I am home alone. My teenage daughters are at school. I have no reason to be awake so I go to the kitchen and reach into the cabinet and grab a bottle. A small pink and white pill falls into my hand. This should let me get at least a few more hours of sleep. I just want to pass some time by until my daughters are home.

Looking in the mirror at my mascara streaked face; I then run a washcloth under the water faucet. Not caring if the water is scalding hot or as cold as ice. I then run the soothing wet washcloth across my face, wiping away every memory of the dream, of the nightmare that has awoken me to this now not so productive morning. All my ambitions of the day are now mixed with water, mascara and tears as they begin to flow into the sink and down the drain. I then go back to my bed. Not thinking about anything, not thinking about dreaming, just thinking about sleeping.

As I lay there, alone, I think of my life at forty. Where am I? I’m at least half-way through my life, I think. I have no one but my mother and my daughters. I feel so alone and I question why my life has been so hard. God said he would not give us more than we can handle. I believe he has put too much faith in me and I not enough faith in Him. I can’t handle anymore.

I wonder why some people breeze through life with no worries, no burdens, it seems no major problems or issues. My life has been a struggle since, I guess, day one. Not that I remember that far back because I can’t really remember where all the chaos started in my life. Except that it began at my home on Reid Street, in a small town in Alabama. I was born in November of 1971, a little girl born after two older brothers. My mother went into labor during an Alabama verse LSU game. Not such good timing on my part.

My father was intrigued with the game and was waiting for the final score while my mother was pacing the floor. Her water finally broke and my dad asked what that meant. Well, they usually break my water. My dad then grabbed my mother and rushed her to the hospital.

As my father was signing my mother in, someone from the delivery room came out announcing that my dad had a new baby girl. He shook his head and replied, You must be mistaken. I’m just now signing my wife in. Anyway, I only have boys. The hospital worker then asked, Is your name Mr. Lamb? My father replied, Yes. The