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Seeds of the Heart
Seeds of the Heart
Seeds of the Heart
Ebook64 pages47 minutes

Seeds of the Heart

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Memories are the fond things we remember about life, or at least they are supposed to be. I suspect that most mamas tell their little girls about becoming a woman. Love is always happily ever after. Growing up should have been marked with beautiful stories about train rides to visit my hometown of Shreveport, Louisiana.

However, life for me consisted of unfathomable wickedness and pure evil by the ones closest to my heart. By the grace of God, a seed of hope was planted, and I was able to find love in an unlovable situation. I expressed my heart through writings and found victory in Jesus Christ. After many years of stumbling through a wilderness, I now have peace, learned to forgive, and live again.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateAug 3, 2022
ISBN9798886164480
Seeds of the Heart

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    Book preview

    Seeds of the Heart - Stormie Clay

    cover.jpg

    Seeds of the Heart

    Stormie Clay

    Copyright © 2022 by Stormie Clay

    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. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

    Christian Faith Publishing

    832 Park Avenue

    Meadville, PA 16335

    www.christianfaithpublishing.com

    Printed in the United States of America

    Table of Contents

    When Dreams and Visions Become Reality

    What Is Life?

    Why God Created Grandmothers

    Help

    Troubled

    When I Pray

    When God Keeps Me

    Waiting on the Lord

    God’s Mercy

    Nobody but Jesus

    No Peace

    Times of Despair

    Jesus’s Love

    Ode to a Lady

    Binding Love

    Without God’s Grace

    Remembering Daddy

    Sometimes It’s Good to Cry

    Guidance

    Thank You

    Remember Me

    Bound by Witchcraft

    Overcoming Witchcraft through Jesus Christ

    In memory of my godmother Effie Tate. also the meaning of why I chose the name Stormie Clay, While going through the storms of life, God enabled me to endure the tests of time, his handiwork has created and formed me into the woman I am today, look forward to hearing from you soon God Bless.

    To all the brothers and sisters who have gone through loneliness, despair, hopelessness,

    only to find out that Jesus Christ has always been there to mend the broken pieces and give hope to the lost

    Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee, because he trusted in thee.

    —Isaiah 26:3 (KJV)

    Introduction

    Yes, God is real. Real in my soul, for He has washed and made me whole. His love for me is like pure gold. Yes, God is real down in my soul.

    Dreams and visions are God’s divine ways of communicating with His people. Being blessed with these gifts can have a profound effect in our daily lives as well as our destiny.

    Before I formed thee in the belly I knew thee; and before thou comest forth out of the womb I sanctified thee, and I ordained thee a prophet unto the nations. (Jeremiah 1:5 KJV)

    When Dreams and Visions Become Reality

    As far back as I can remember, at a very young age, I would go to bed and have dreams. I do understand that everybody has dreams. I can only say that most of mine came true. There were times during the night I would have two or three dreams one right after another. Also, there would be times I would be wide awake, and images of people and places would flash like a camera before my natural eyes. Upon awakening, some of the dreams would confuse me. I would go to my mother and ask her for the meaning. Most of the time, her only response and reply was that everybody has dreams. Then I would walk away, feeling dissatisfied. The more I prayed, my understanding of dreams became more clear.

    My spiritual journey of dreams began during the year of 1960. I would go to sleep and dream the same dream, standing in front of a white house with a white picket fence, staring at the front door, but I would never open the gate to enter. Once again, as before, I would go to my mother, only to hear the same answer.

    I couldn’t go to anyone else because my mother was the only person I lived with. I never knew who my dad was nor had I ever met him. My mother never talked about him. Even when I would ask, she just brushed me off.

    During the summer of 1967, all the family members were notified to come home to Louisiana. Grandma was sick. The doctor said that she could die soon, so we packed our suitcases and boarded the train from Kansas City, Missouri, to Grandma’s house.

    By 6:00 p.m. that

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