Coach Kinsey

A Personal Note to a Struggling Client


Dear Friend,

Today I'm thinking and praying for you.  Based on our conversation yesterday, I think that you may not have ever experienced deep, personal relating with the Savior.  Rather you have had a relationship with a system of religiosity (which is typical of many Christians).  That system can serve as a nice substitute until it doesn't anymore.  It doesn't produce real heart transformation, its more of a white-knuckle-it kind of behavior modification with the expectation that if we do well at that we will receive some kind of blessing from God.  This is where the reduced gospel we learn ends up being our kiss of death.

Thank God that He doesn't want us to stay on that path.  He has rescued me off of that path (I was miserable on it, yet like you, pushed that way down and went along with the flow).  He has shown me a new way of relating - an enjoyable Savior and Christian life (not easy) but soooooo much better than the other way.  I feel alive and excited about Jesus - and we do life together, every single day.  Circumstances around me haven't changed that much and can be pretty bleak, but God in the middle makes for a really sweet experience.

You're angry because God hasn't delivered.  You put out, but He didn't.  Only thing is, He never made that promise. Somewhere along the line, we believed the lie that if we do good things, we will get good things.  But the Bible never ever teaches that.  It teaches that to live we must first die, to be great we must become nothing, to get we must first lose, and to find the greatest joy is to love the unlovely.  It's opposite everything.  There is nothing appealing about those things.  But the promise is that when we do those things, that's when the real joy comes - that's when we really begin to experience life. I am finding this to be true.

This is just some food for thought. I'm for you more than you know.
If you want real life, I can help you find Him.

Love,

Coach Kinsey

Can any of you relate?  Has Abba drawn you into the Opposite World?  Please leave your comments below.

If you want to learn how to relate to a Savior rather than a system contact me. kinsey@coachkinsey.com

I Didn't Know it Would Be My Last Conversation With Him . . .

What a delightful surprise to see Mr. D and Sandy at a recent funeral.   My heart stirred when I saw them.  I felt compelled to speak words of life and love to my High School teacher.  I wanted him to know how much he meant to me and to so many people. I made a beeline for him after the service.

 “Mr. D, I just want you to know how much you mean to me . . .” But before I could get going, others huddled around, took pictures, shared memories, talked, and talked, and talked.  But I was determined to have this conversation. People moved away, the room was almost empty, so I started again, “Mr. D, I want you to know . . .” 

This time the funeral director butted in, arms waving directions, “We need you to move out of the room, we have another funeral to conduct.” I could tell he was not a man to cross, we left the chapel and went into the hallway.  

I tried again, “Mr. D, it’s important for me to say this . . .”  Someone stopped by and thrust their cell phone in Mr. D’s face, “Hey, my daughter is doing great now, here’s her house, yada yada.”  Seriously?   Can I just have a moment?   

Finally, space seemed to open up, “Mr. D . . .” Oh, for crying out loud, the funeral director was unhappy again. “Could y’all please move out of the hall?  
We have another funeral about to start.”  Sheesh!  
We moved to the lobby.  More interruptions ensued.

Maybe this wasn’t the place or time

But I waited.  Finally, I was able to look Mr. D in the eye and express my gratitude and love.  I don’t remember what I said exactly.  But I do remember being grateful for the chance to hold his hand, hug his neck, and speak life into him.

I had no idea it would be my last conversation with him. Today, June 22, 2018, Mr. D entered heaven. I’ll cherish this picture and that moment forever.

There will be endless accolades from thousands of students over on Facebook about how wonderful Mr. D was on earth.  I look forward to reading each one.  But right now I want to draw attention to this fact: we never know

We never know when our last conversation with someone will be our last conversation with someone.  So, it’s really important to speak up.  Sometimes we feel silly or shy about saying soulful things.  Sometimes the slightest bumps in the road can deter us from our intents. 

Here are my two cents worth:

Stay the course.
Say the words.
Speak life.
Speak love.
Speak gratitude.
You may not get another chance.




In honor and memory of one of the greats, Jay Donmoyer, aka "Mr. D," and his lovely wife Sandy.

Chioma! My New Favorite Word

“How do you pronounce your name?” I asked, noticing her unusual name tag.
“Chee-oh-ma,” replied the Lowes cashier.
"That’s interesting, what does it mean?"
“God is good.”
“Really?  What language is that?”
 "Igbo, from Nigeria."
“That’s a beautiful name. God really is good, do you know Jesus?” my husband joined the conversation.
“I know God,” she said with dismissive air and rang up our potting soil.  Seemed to me that she didn’t like God being equated with Jesus.  But who knows, I could have read her wrong.

Anyway, intrigued by the name Chioma, I later did a google search online.  Sure enough, it means “God is good.” Don’t you just love that? It’s my new favorite word now.

Chioma!  God is good.
Yes He is. Jesus too.

We prayed that the beautiful African girl that works at Lowes comes to know that in her heart.
And you too for that matter.
Have a lovely day.

Chioma! Spread the word.

Messy Gospel. Messy Me.

It couldn't have happened at a worse place.  Thick traffic, narrow lanes, crazy drivers, and there I was fighting to stay awake.  Seriously, right there in the center of Atlanta, at malfunction junction, my eyes were crossing.  After a week with very little sleep, I had finally hit my wall.  So at this point, it was imperative to be off the highway. I prayed, gripped the steering wheel and looked for the first available exit. 

Finally, a billboard boasted a Cracker Barrell, exit 44.  I would be able to walk around, get some coffee, call the Preacher and try to wake up. But that’s not how it played out. 
 
Exited in the wrong lane, had to go with traffic flow.  Desperate to get out of the car, I pulled into the first fast food restaurant available.  Hardees.  I never eat at Hardees. Ever.
 
God had plans to wake me up.  There at the entrance was a homeless woman, with all her worldly possessions at her feet.  Oh dear Jesus,  I would have to pass her on my way in.  Can we say awkward? I greeted her kindly and walked right past her, good Samaritan that I am.
 

“What’s up with that homeless woman by the door?” I asked the cashier.
“Oh, she just needs some money.”
“How long has she been out there?”
“She’s been coming for about 2 years.”
“Oh mercy!”
 
It’s not my first time to see a homeless panhandler, but it’s always unnerving.  Bells and whistles, inner turmoil, guilt for having a home to return to, guilt for having a life basically. Compelled to do something.  What is that something? 
 
Was that an angel out there?  An angel, taking notes and reporting me to God. 
 
Angel reporting to God: “Kinsey walked past, she gets credit for the smile and greeting, but she did walk past.” 
 
God: “That’s not good enough.  I’ve given her a very cushy life in comparison.  She should invite that woman to go home with her and live with her and take care of her for the rest of her life.”
 
I’ve already been condemned to hell in my imagination.  Deep soul sigh.
 
Am I the only one with this type of internal dialogue?
 
The very fact that it could be an angel meant that I had to act.  I don’t want to let an angel down, do you?

I mean, I can walk right past a human who bears the image of God, but it’s absolutely incomprehensible to walk past an angel and do nothing.  That's holy logic at work, right?
 
So I ate a burger while I ponder these things.  Didn’t taste a bite.  Didn’t enjoy it either.
 
Exiting the same door, I moved next to the woman, careful not to trample her little bags, leaned back on the wall, looked at her and asked, “What’s your story?”
 
Surprisingly, she smiled and spoke very intelligently. (I had not stereotyped at all.  Eyeroll.)
 
Hard times, no family around, just needed money to stay in a hotel, yadda, yadda.
 
“What’s your name?”
“Angel,” she replied. 
 
(Not really, I just had to get you there)
 
“Princess,” was her real answer
“Princess!” I mused, “Are you God’s Princess?”
“Oh yes!” she said with a big smile.
 
That opened up the door for more conversation.  I tell you I thought my heart would break in two.  Here was a child of God with deep pain and no place to stay.  Here was an image bearer with no home.  Where was God in this woman’s life?  Why wasn’t He caring for His daughter?
 
I have no answers.
 
Over the course of our conversation, I prayed with her three different times. It felt weak and pathetic.  What kind of God allows this?  The gospel doesn’t seem enough here.  How do the four spiritual laws apply?  God loves you and has a wonderful plan for your life?  Seriously?
 
She was very grateful that I took the time to visit.  I gave her a hug (with permission) and all the cash I had.
 
I got back in my car and cried.  This world is so wrong.  So, so wrong.
 
The gospel at times seems messy.  My living out the gospel is messy.
 
I’m still bothered by it all. I think I should be.
 
 
What does it stir in you?  



A Surprise Kiss from God

There it blossomed, in the dead of winter, snowy white against a periwinkle sky. 

I braked and dismounted my bike to get closer. The flower was a burst of white petals surrounding a small yellow center; from a distance, it resembled a daisy – but this was a tree.
   

How is it that I’ve biked this route for years and never noticed this daisy tree

But today it begged my attention, standing in stark contrast to the surrounding landscape of brown grass, dead leaves, and barren trees.

Its beautiful bloom sang out to me – there's life, there's hope, there's growth! Dark seasons give way to light.  Mourning gives way to laughter.

Touching its delicate leaves, I could feel the breath of God infusing me with hope, anticipation, and joy.



The first signs of spring are always the most treasured;

 perhaps because they follow a season of decay.


Yet I was still mystified, how had I missed this tree in the past?  I pass it frequently.  Could it be that my soul was more thirsty this time?  Or maybe God just wanted to surprise me.

The same thing happens when I read scripture.  I round the corner of a chapter, riding in old, familiar territory, then a verse will jump out and capture my attention. It’s like I’ve never seen it before!  I brake, dismount, and allow the new revelation to seep into my soul.

Some people call these moments kisses from God.  What a wonderful thought.  It surely does feels like that – a God-kiss. Nice.

God’s-kisses are all around us.  Every day.  It’s just that sometimes we glide right past and don’t notice them. Oh that we might see them all.


Would you ask God to open your eyes today? 

Ask Him to show you where His kiss is hiding.

He wants to kiss you.


And when you get your God-kiss, stop pedaling, get off your bike, and receive the infusion of His love and grace. 


Then would you share it with someone?  
Or better yet share it on our FB group page?



After I got home I googled the bloom and discovered that it is called
Magnolia stellata the ‘Royal Star.”
But just between us, I think I'll call it the Daisy tree.  Smile.
You can learn more about it here: 



Sometimes we can't hear from God or receive His kisses because we are stuck, or our internal life is too noisy.  As a Heart Transformation Coach, I help you move past the barriers to reconnect with the lover of your soul.



or contact me at:
Kinsey@coachkinsey.com


For a PDF version of this story - maybe to share with your women's group,

©Kinsey Oglesby, January 25, 2017

This Really Happened at Winn Dixie!


While putting my groceries in the back of the car, a lady tried to pull into the empty parking space beside me.

"Ma'am, " she spoke to me from her open car window, "am I going to make it?"

I turned to survey the situation, "No ma'am, you're not. You're about to hit that car. " I warned.

"Oh dear, " she lamented, "I don't have reverse in this car."

I took stock of her vehicle. Oh my! Only in Alabama! Let me tell you, this car was held together with duct tape and chains! I'm not kidding. It looked like she drove it off the scrap yard. See for yourself:


She got out of her car and tried to push it backwards to avoid rear-ending the other car.

My mind scrambled, "Oh dear, she needs help and I have a bad back; I can't help her. Or, can I? What am I to do?" I threw up a prayer to God and helped her push the car, very mindful that my first back injury occurred when I was pushing a car. Eek!

We pushed it just enough to avoid collision - (I even had to help her turn the steering wheel because she also had no power steering).

She safely parked in another space and I returned to put the remaining groceries in my car. As i did, I prayed, "Papa, please provide a better car for this woman."

"Give her the orange car." God whispered.

"Yes!" my heart jumped at the idea. The "orange car" was the Preacher's old Dodge Neon that we've been trying to sell for a few dollars or find a needy recipient. God landed Doris right in our laps.

Closing the hatch, I walked toward her. She was moving toward me as well.

"I wanted to tell you thank you," she said with appreciation. "Most people don't take the time to help."

"No problem," I returned, "And, I think I may have a car for you."

"Really, how much?"

"Not sure, let me check with the owner, and I'll get back with you."

We exchanged phone numbers and went on our merry way.

The Preacher was more than happy to give the orange car to Doris when I shared the story with him. So the next morning we carried it out to her and transferred the title into her name. Can I just say that we HAD SO MUCH FUN doing this?!



We discovered that Doris lived in a little RV in a park not far from us. Doris met us with her neighbor Ricky. So the four of us, the Preacher, Doris, Ricky and I stood in front of her beat-up-duct-taped-chained car and fellowshipped a bit. We all celebrated how God had orchestrated the events. Lots of hugs and thank you's and giving God the glory. 

When we drove away, Doris had her purse on her arm, keys in hand, and was ready to take a test drive in the orange car. The old Honda was being retired at the ripe old age of 400+K. Oh happy day!


Me with Doris and Ricky, Picture courtesy of the Preacher.
I love it when God shows up in the routine of life and whispers in our spirit to follow His lead. Listening to Abba on a regular basis helped prepare me for that moment. I'm so grateful. There is nothing more satisfying than participating in what God is up to in this world.

And, drum roll please, no back pain!



©Kinsey Oglesby, September 5, 2016

Please share with me what God has been doing in your life!

Kisses for Bobbie: A story of a Daughter's Love

I wanted my mom to love and cherish me. To teach me how to dress, wear makeup, choose friends, show hospitality, and find a mate. To hold me when the world was harsh, to comfort me when my dreams were shattered, to listen with rapt attention to my ideas and prattle.  To be proud of me for starring in the school play, to slip me notes in my lunch.  To crawl in bed with me and giggle, tell me stories, hold me tight, and kiss my eyes closed. She never did.


It was difficult for mom to raise five children.  Kind words, encouragement, and praise were seldom spoken. Disparaging remarks and criticism were more the norm.  Mom scared me; I never felt emotionally safe with her.  Most of my childhood was spent flying under the radar, avoiding the fray.  As I grew older, my wounds became the breeding ground for resentment and bitterness.  By the time I left home, I wanted to walk away and never look back. 

But God.

God taught me a better way;  the way of love.  Mercifully, He would not let me walk away. He would not let bitterness and resentment define me. It took years of messy work to uproot those enemies. He helped me see the deep pain in my mother’s soul that prevented her from receiving and expressing love.  She was gripped with fear and anxiety and inner sufferings of her own.  God graced my heart with compassion and forgiveness.  He helped me to let go of my expectations and to treat mom with respect and dignity.  But He didn’t stop there. He taught me to love her in the ways I longed to be loved.


Long story short, when mom was no longer able to live independently, the Preacher and I took up residence with her.  For years we watched both her mind and body decay.  She was utterly dependent on us for every need.

Not only did she need us to watch over her, but mom’s body needed attention. Touching my mom was uncharted territory; the thought of it made my stomach queasy.  Don’t get me wrong, I love touch; it’s one of my love languages.  But touching my mom?  That was a different story.  There was no familiarity and no emotional connection; caring for her body took me to a whole other level.  I had to cut her nails, clean her nose, irrigate her ears, wash her hair, change her diaper, bandage her wounds and do all manner of stuff too personal to write here.  Our loving Father used this experience to close the gap on love. I did all these things dutifully and kindly. 
Mom, aka"Bobbie"

But God. 


(There are those two words again). 

He spoke to me one day about mom.  “She’s my princess, my darling Bobbie.  Thank you for caring for her.  I love her so much and I can’t wait until she is here with me.  Until then Kinsey, let her know how much I love her. Be me with skin on.”   Whoa.  When He exposed His heart toward my mom I was floored.  I saw her in a new light; she was one of God’s greatest treasures.

God flipped a switch in me. The next day I went into her room with an awareness that I was entering sacred territory.  God’s princess was lying in the bed, His beloved “Bobbie.”   I bent down and smothered my mom’s face and neck with kisses.  That day my touch went from holy duty to holy relating.  The healing in my soul was complete.  Praise God.

Since then, I’ve lost count of the kisses and tender touches I’ve given mom.  But it wasn’t me, it was the God of the universe loving on His princess.  I was just the vessel.

In my life I’ve made a lot of mistakes, wounded many people, and failed to love.  But there is this one little place in my soul – where love won out. And if I don’t get anything else right I can revel in the transformation of my heart towards my mother.

Mom went to Jesus a few days ago.  I had one hand on her head, brushing back her hair, and one hand over her chest feeling it rise and fall.  Her breath became shallower and shallower, the rise and fall became barely noticeable.  Then it stopped. She left this earth while I was touching her and entered into heaven where Jesus was waiting with “Kisses for Bobbie.”
Mother's Day 2016


When I die don’t cry for me
In my Father’s arms I’ll be
The wounds this world left on my soul
Will all be healed and I’ll be whole.

It don’t matter where they bury me
I’ll be home and I’ll be free
It don’t matter where I lay
All my tears be washed away.



I love  you Mom!  I can hardly wait for us to look in each other's eyes and love deeply, purely, and completely from a place of perfect holiness.


Postlude:

Mom did love us; she just didn’t know how to express it.  We have found some of her prayer journals in which she desperately sought God’s transformation of her tongue and heart. She matured into a very generous woman who sponsored countless orphans through Compassion international, and other good works for God.  Additionally, she was a gracious and loving MeeMaw to her grandchildren.

Broken people can be used by God.  In fact, it’s the only kind of people He uses!  Like me, Mom got it right in some areas, and not so good in others.  It seems contradictory, but that’s how it is when God is in the process of cleaning up our messy hearts and lives.  Some things won’t be fixed until glory.  Until then, we need to give each other’s imperfections wide berth.  God is transforming us all in His own time and way.  One day we will all live in holy love.



©Kinsey Oglesby, Soul Care Coach, Writer, Speaker