JESUS DOING MIRACLE IN THIS CURRENT YEAR

I was age five, growing on six, when my Momma first taught me the lesson of having faith in a God that is unseen. 
You see, back then growing up on three meals a day was unheard of in our house.  The four oldest kids were old enough to go to school.  I thought that must be the greatest place in the whole world, because they always came home with nice smells on their clothes and had small smiles on their faces -- or at least until they got home.
You see, breakfast, as many know it today in America, was out of the question.  Our midday meal consisted of grits, salt and some dirty stuff that I later learned was pepper.  Dinner consisted of bony chicken backs and some green split pea soup.
Those were the days when things weren't going so well.  Our apartment was in a basement. We had so many rats and roaches throughout our apartment house -- I thought my Momma bought them to keep us kids busy.
Even in my small mind I felt she had the nerve to keep spending all the money on buying more of those things, when I couldn't even find a glass of milk or a piece of bread to eat.  The only reason I eventually believed Momma wasn't using money to buy them was because she would try to help us kill those rats and roaches; chasing them away from our bowls of food, or my baby sister's baby bottles. Yet they always came back with more of their friends.
I used to hear my Momma cry a lot back then.  I don't know if it was because of the rats running through the walls and squeaking and scratching all the time, or because she couldn't keep enough food in the house to feed us kids.  But she used to cry and cry and call out to this person named Jesus that we never got to see.
Momma and her make-believe friend Jesus spent a lot of time together whenever Momma was crying. 
I do know this: one evening food was so low I saw my momma sifting through the kitchen trash bags for the potato peelings she had thrown in there two days earlier.  She was sitting there crying loudly ' talking to her Jesus, begging for him to help her.  Now I loved my Momma more than life itself, and every time she cried it made us younger kids cry. 
My sister, Ella, and I walked into the kitchen to see what was wrong with Momma. She only shouted for us to let her be.  But I crawled down on the floor with her anyway and started picking out those old potato skins with her like it was a game.  But Momma only cried out harder and pulled me to her breast and started saying stuff like:  'Lordy, Jesus, Father God ' please help me.' 
Anyway, after Momma washed them skins and fried them, I can swear it tasted like the best meal I've ever eaten.
One day I woke to hear Momma arguing or screaming about something.  I thought it was those pesky rats again.  But my mother was trying to get all of us kids to cooperate in her game she called: 'Going Shopping.'  She used to play games with us a lot, mainly to keep our thoughts off the pain in our bellies.  She started giving out orders about who was to do this or that and what was to go where.
Momma was on a chair by the icebox cleaning out the cabinets like we were preparing to put real groceries away.  This game went on and on until long after dark.  Finally, one by one, we kids began to drift away to some corner of the apartment, mainly because we were weak from lack of food.  The only reason it lasted as long as it did was because it made our Momma smile and sing songs. She was singing how this Jesus was so good to her and all she had to do was call out to him and he would come by to see about her.
This went on for two days. We kids suffered to the point of Momma thinking the younger babies were dead . . . or about to breathe their last breath.
I awoke to panic - loud voices - the older kids screaming and laughing  - running feet and banging doors.  I walked to the kitchen doorway.  I couldn't believe what I was actually seeing with tired eyes.  But to this day, God be my witness, my Momma was on that same chair putting real canned goods in the cabinets and food in the icebox.
There were real groceries that covered our small kitchen floor, table and those the older kids had in their arms.  I watched and listened to Momma thank her friend Jesus for answering her prayers. 
Momma's faith taught me something so real that even to this day I know without a doubt that God is able to make even the impossible possible, and it doesn't matter what the situation looks like or how you may feel.  God hears our every prayer.  Even in the hardest of times when it seems that the Lord is so far away and so removed from your pain and heartache  . . . He is hearing your heart's cry and feeling your pain.  If we can just quiet our soul for a few brief moments and tell Him "Thank you, Father, for this time of great trial, because a loving Father only allows  what is ultimately best for us, and I confess you as my one and only heavenly Father.  I know somehow ... You are working good out of the affliction I am going through. 
Prayer and trust does change things.  Sometimes it's external circumstances or events that get changed.  Sometimes the greatest change is in our heart.  Keep the faith that God will provide what He determines you need no matter what your eyes may see before you, or what circumstances may seem to be indicating.  Be willing to change what God is asking you to change. Be willing to admit if you made a wrong choice.  He'll always grant you the grace to do what He desires for you to do, if He desires for you to do something other than what you already know to do. 
Just remember ... God is never your enemy.  He's always your friend, even if everything in you at the moment says you would rather not be friends with Him.  He didn't put you on this planet for lack of a better place to put you.  Your purpose for being here at this time, in the situation you are in, is the highest purpose God in His infinite wisdom and love had for you before the foundation of the world itself.  The pain you might be in right now is neither a mistake on God's part or a lack of his love for you.  Rather ... because He  loves you so much ... He is shaping you into a creation of beauty beyond your wildest comprehension.  Scripture promises it.
As I write this from my prison cell, I chose to believe the very same for myself, though at weak moments I sometimes have to get on my knees before God and ask Him for grace to make it through the day.  Logically, I could say all these things outside of these prison walls just as well, but then if I was outside of these prison walls, maybe I would be like so many others who may never take the time to write them.  And maybe ... just  maybe ... I would never have been able to write them in the first place, had I not have gone through some of the fiery trials I've gone through here in prison.