Manic Mannequins!

Stay with me here - I think I may have found possible employment for my comedic future: Become a "real life" mannequin. Well, the truth is, when I first read this story circulating about the new thrust of truth in advertising, I was like, "Wow - I could qualify for that!" Then I realized that the story was about the mannequins and not real LIVE women BEING the mannequins. Then I laughed. But here's proof a nerve has been hit from one of the comments made on a picture from a Facebook page -

The lingerie-clad mannequins, displayed in one of the stores in Sweden's Ahlens department store chain, have fleshier stomachs and fuller thighs than are typically seen in stores. Both are far from overweight, as many people have noted in comments about the widely circulated photo.

“Those aren’t mannequins, they are real women, and they are gorgeous,” wrote one of more than 3,350 commenters on the Facebook photo posted March 11 by Women’s Rights News.

"The lingerie-clad mannequins, displayed in one of the stores in Sweden's Ahlens department store chain, have fleshier stomachs and fuller thighs than are typically seen in stores. Both are far from overweight, as many people have noted in comments about the widely circulated photo. “Those aren’t mannequins, they are real women, and they are gorgeous,” wrote one of more than 3,350 commenters on the Facebook photo posted March 11 by Women’s Rights News." -by Eun Kyung Kim for Today Style

Real women. Gorgeous. Real life mannequins, which is quite different than real LIVE mannequins. OK. I got it now. But even so, I could qualify as a stunt double for a real life mannequin. Kind of like being a mannequin for a mannequin...swarming cellulite, rolling belly lines, "very-gross" veins, flabby filler - but a huge smile! Yeah, that'll work! But you won't find me in the lingerie aisle. Nope. I'll be more than happy to be the plump and flashy modest model for the tarp, tent and outdoor arctic gear section of Cabela's. I'm no dummy... :)

There is far more to your life than the food you put in your stomach, more to your outer appearance than the clothes you hang on your body. Look at the birds, free and unfettered, not tied down to a job description, careless in the care of God. And you count far more to him than birds. Matthew 5:26

Also posted on "The music, humor & life of Sue Duffield"

I'll Leave It All Behind

My travel hap-hazard trademark: Leave a little bit of your belongings behind. 

Wish I could say I "leave a little bit of my behind behind", but that never works. :) Of course I left a newly purchased Clinique eye pencil in the hotel room at the Gaylord Texan over the weekend. My roommate "thought" she left her entire make-up case behind, but found it later hiding in the billowing mounds of her suitcase. Good for her. I approach the Lost & Found at the Texan and they suggest, after their eye-rolling sigh, that I just call back at another time. You see, they are FLOODED with items left behind. They let me take a brief tour through their section of the hotel where items are stored that are left behind. Everything you can imagine. Someone even left a "Left Behind" book behind. I had to laugh at that one. Finding my eye pencil in a box of mascaras, lipsticks, purses, eye shadows, brushes, nail polishes - was like wading through the discount containers at a flea market. Mine would still be in the Clinique box, since I didn't take the eye pencil out yet. But there was no box; and there was no reason to waste another minute to excavate a $12 purchase. (Chocolate brown eye-liner, in case you're feeling generous)

Can you imagine being on a recovery team of Lost & Found at a resort like this? I can't comprehend it, even after what I saw. Coats, hoodies, cameras, books, bras, magazines, ©Pam Cooking Spray (this one bothered me for a while), watches, rings, curling irons, vitamin containers, earrings - you name it. I only saw this arsenal of a holding tank at a glance, but I was in utter horror over the things we (consumers) leave behind in hotel rooms. I asked the woman at the counter, "How long do you keep all this stuff?" She responded, "Well, we're instructed to keep it until someone claims it." You're kidding???! Who in the name of Tim LaHaye is going to claim their left behind ©Pam Cooking Spray??

Blissdom 2013 was incredible in every way. Writers/networkers/creatives - real living breathing women - come from all over everywhere. And the truth is, I not only left my chocolate brown eye-liner pencil behind, but I left my heart there too. I left my heart and twitter name with new friends, new inspirers, and new visionaries. I also left my heart behind with my peers and seasoned friendships, to blend with theirs, creating more community than ever. I was a student in the hallways, elevators, late night table-talk and carpet conversations at the Gaylord Texan as much as I was in the sessions. Maybe more. 

You see, "behind" every great writer is a heart left behind. And this time, it's a good thing. Lost and found. Both.

(Also posted on Sue Duffield's blog)

Footprints of Faith On the Beach

I walked in faith believing that a weekend with these special women would be life-changing. It was. But it also came with a fight. A fight that later reveals the struggle is so worth it. If you've ever felt, thought or experienced any of the following before or during a women's retreat, well, girl - you fit right in.

I had a fight with my teenager right as I walked out the door. 
I fell and twisted my ankle.
I have a piercing headache. 
The traffic delays are awful. 
The stress of leaving a husband, house and kids behind is mind-boggling. 
My baby is sick at home. 
No extra cash to buy anything once I  get there..
Can't fit in the clothes I packed. 
The suitcase zipper broke. 
The gal I'm rooming with is not my first choice.
My sister begged me to come, so I gave in.
It's gonna rain all weekend.
I just lost my husband, and I don't know if I can do this.
I was just laid off from work.
My friend and I don't even go to this church.
The meeting room is either hot or cold.
And the coffee? What about the coffee? Where's the hot water for tea??
You can't believe what I had to accomplish before even getting here...
My daughter is diagnosed with a terminal disease.
I don't even DO women's events.
I prefer not to retreat with anyone but my husband, really.
Is this going to be another one of those cryin'/confessin'/exposin' retreats? I can't do that.
Why was this location selected?
I've never been to a retreat before.
I can't sleep in those hotel beds. 
I should have brought my own pillow.
I lost my wallet.
What is the speaker going to speak on anyway?
The Advil was left on the kitchen counter.
This food better be good.
My kids keep texting me.
Seems like there'll be quite a generation gap, with the widening ages of women coming...
The younger girls are planning it this year.
I'm sixty-eight, and wondering, "Do I fit in anymore?"
Probably the best time of the retreat (for me) will be the free time.
I hope they won't be making us do anything that's uncomfortable..
If the women had a clue of what's going on with me, I would SO not be accepted..

Then Jesus arrives. We have a room reserved for Him. It's called the ballroom. Our welcomed, somewhat unexpected guest makes His presence known. We prayed that He would come, but truthfully, we were too busy thinking of all the distractions, the pain, the guilt, the organization, the details, the anxieties, the comforts - to even realize - that once we felt His presence, nothing else would really matter.

I know many women who don't "do" women's retreats. It's just not in their bone marrow to desire a weekend away with unfinished, unmade, imperfect gals. I understand that. But I keep thinking, "If you knew, you would come." A sweet and salty sisterhood has a way of exposing our greatest strengths and our greatest weaknesses. All our differences actually make us the same. And all of our anxieties and imperfections encourage us to grab in desperation for the kraspedon (hem) of Jesus' garment.

We now know. It's in desperation we find healing in Christ. All our inhibitions and worries seem foolish right now. The sabbath we've been looking for has been with us all the time... Jesus IS the sabbath.

So, we walk, we run and we stand - for truth. And yes, we even sink our toes in the sand once more.

A Tempting Savory Snack Attack

Sue Duffield | Singer, Speaker, Humorist | Sue's Blog : A Tempting Savory Snack Attack
A sure chance to chew and spew!

I grabbed the green bag of wasabi peas and put a handful on the table. At the same time, I grabbed a few kitty treats for Annie's teacup chihuahua. Yes, that's right: Lola loves the kitty treats more than dog biscuits. And it's apparent that I must love the kitty treats better than the wasabi peas, because I accidentally put them into MY mouth TWICE! A handful of kitty treats in my left hand; a handful of wasabi peas in my right hand. And the kitty treats win this juggling act. Again...Arrggh.

I posted this incident on Facebook and friends were responding, "Oh, the poor dog!" Poor dog - nothin'! She never even tasted a mere morsel of the wasabi's. Nay, I say. But "I" surely crunched a few ©Whiskas Temptation Treats (seafood medley flavor!) long enough to chew and spew (by pyloric valve, catapult-style) across the room. Very impressive. All those years of spittin' pomegranate seeds across the hedge from my front porch, pay-eth off-eth. :)

I wish I could say that I immediately respond (or spit out) quickly the things that repulse or defile me as a holistic and spiritual believer. To say I've been known to "chew the acuity fat" is a bit obtuse (Obtuse. I learned that word from Andy DuFresne!). It's not in good taste to join the ranks of off-color jokes and laugh along with the Hollywood-mindset and their raunchy ways. But isn't it interesting that I invite it into my house, as if an honored guest for the evening, whenever I turn on late night television, Netflix, or RedBox. You could say it's just in the background. The obscene language, vulgar improprieties, and shocking lewd filth. (There. I named it for what it is.) But is it enough that I am greatly offended and spew it out of my mouth or throw the controller out the window? I hope so.

I'm more sensitive than ever to the things that feed and sustain my soul vs. the things that turn my stomach and make me spiritually sick. This is what happens when you feast on good food and understand it's life-giving force. You know the difference. Quickly. And at first taste of the gross stuff, just stand back and hurl with me. I'll be right beside you. Kitty treats and all!



Psalm 19:14 There’s more: God’s Word warns us of danger and directs us to hidden treasure. Otherwise how will we find our way? Or know when we play the fool? Clean the slate, God, so we can start the day fresh! Keep me from stupid sins, from thinking I can take over your work; Then I can start this day sun-washed, scrubbed clean of the grime of sin. These are the words in my mouth; these are what I chew on and pray. Accept them when I place them on the morning altar, O God, my Altar-Rock, God, Priest-of-My-Altar. 
Psalm 19:14 ...God’s Word warns us of danger and directs us to hidden treasure. Otherwise how will we find our way? Or know when we play the fool? Clean the slate, God, so we can start the day fresh! Keep me from stupid sins, from thinking I can take over your work; Then I can start this day sun-washed, scrubbed clean of the grime of sin. These are the words in my mouth; these are what I chew on and pray. Accept them when I place them on the morning altar, O God, my Altar-Rock, God, Priest-of-My-Altar. 

I also find it whimsical too that the treats are called "Temptations". I LOL over that one for a while...

Capital Gains

I noticed this gracious man, chatting with one of the restaurant workers. He catches my eye because he randomly shouts out the name of a State, and then someone from the other side of the room will yell out the corresponding Capital. Funny. Reality TV-like.
"Vermont!", he says.
"Montpelier!", she responds.
"Oregon...!"
"Salem!"
"Montana...."
(pause)..."HELENA!"
Then there's a long pause because he see's that I'm paying attention. I'm a new audience to this impromptu sitcom-in-the-making. I'm also slurping my bowl of chicken barley soup.
"You wanna play?", nodding to me from his table. He orders the Lentil soup. "These girls get tired of me after awhile..".
"Sure", I say. "But I don't know if I'm as good as I used to be on this stuff."
"OK - here you go - NEW HAMPSHIRE!"
(I pause, but pausing's a good thing. I just booked a women's retreat in NH, so I know this..)
"Concord".
"Good! See? You're good at this!" (actually he said, "at dis,"), then he laughs.
"No, I cheated. I just talked with a gal from New Hampshire yesterday, so it's fresh in my mind."
"Yeah", he says. "Not a whole lot is fresh in my mind these days. But that's why I play this Capital game. I don't think the girls here like it much when I do it, though."
I smile. Then I get the "look" from one of the waitresses, shaking her head and mouthing quietly to me, "He comes in here all the time and does this stupid little game with everybody. Hope he's not bothering you...".
That would be no. He's not bothering me at all. In fact, I now take the intiative..
"Maine!", I shout out loudly.
(silence) Everybody in the restaurant looks at me..
Then my elderly friend says, "Uh oh, that's a toughy. I sometimes get all those New England states mixed up. Wait a minute, I'll get it........  (long pause) (I wait)
"Augusta!", he shouts.
"YAY!", I respond and clap. "You got it!" Now both waitresses walk away and shake their heads at us.
Then he says, "Do you know that the nickname for Maine is the Pinetree State? Did you know that Maine is the number one producer of blueberries in the US? Did you know that about 40 million pounds of lobster is caught yearly off the coast of Maine? (I'm getting set up here..) "Did you know that Augusta is the most eastern capital in the US?"
"Wow. You sure do know a lot about Maine, and here - I thought we were just playing a capital game."
He looks down at his soup, and kind of mumbles to himself, "Yeah, that's what I thought too, until you brought up Maine. I like Maine. A lot. Haven't thought much about Maine until today."
I get up from my table, smile at my new friend and thank him for a wonderful conversation. As I got to the register to pay my bill, I hear him yell from the back of the room...
"Tennessee!"
(I shout back, turning my head) "Nashville!"
Then his quieter voice says, "I figured you should know that one - I saw the tag on your car. You don't talk like somebody from Tennessee."
"I'm from Jersey."
"That figures."
"And you don't talk like somebody from Virginia either."
"Yeah, I know. I grew up in Maine......... HEY - VIRGINIA!"
"Richmond!" 

What a capital conversation. I had everything to gain. Nothing to lose.

No Right To Bare Arms

More and more, I see women my age wearing sleeveless dresses, blouses, shirts - you name it. It's one thing if you're a size 2 and 25 years old, having firm, toned, targeted triceps... but many I see, don't. (Please cover them up. It's not pretty!) I also don't think the 50+ boney looking types look good either.. I don't get it. 

At one time in my life, I had very firm athletic guns. Very proud. I could throw a softball through a window 30 yards away (and did, a few times!). But now? I have appendages resembling my grandma Ann Beatty's fluffy wingspan. Ugh. I have to say though, I miss her embraces; those enveloping cushiony hugs that felt like a warm blanket. 

So, just as MLB spring training is right around the corner, I've decided to break out the weights. I'm even going to pack them in my suitcase and take them with me. They're only 2 lbs. each, but feel like 20 lbs. at this point. My goal is to turn these flabby upper-limbs into two sexy, sleek, firm branches. The trunk of this tree needs work too, but I'll deal with that later.

I have no right to bare arms just yet, but I will soon! :) I found this great site called eHow mom. Good stuff on getting the arms in shape! The better to hug with! The better to wave, praise and flag down a taxi - without knocking someone over. Who's joining me? :)

Laughter Is A Habit!

We're standing together in the Southwest A-List line. I'm A-22, she is A-23. She is talking on her phone when suddenly this astounding laughter burst forth cleansing the air! She has my attention. Sister Ann was wearing her habit; I was in my Phillies cap, telling her I had a "habit" too - at home - consisting of a pair of "holy" gray worn-out stretchy pants and I couldn't wait to get into them. Sister Ann laughs out loud, throwing her head back. Again - what a contagious laugh it is! All around us, travelers snicker and smile, thinking we're long-time friends. That would be no. We just met 2 minutes ago, but somehow the instant connection we feel comes from the sacredness and sarcasm of an infectious laugh. Sisters...

We knew each other, without knowing each other. I call this the merriment magnet. A good laugh can turn a boring moment into a sanctuary of healing. I asked Sister Ann to sit with me on the plane and this was her reply, "Oh boy, we better not. We might make a scene!" She was right. This flying nun and I must be separated. Too much at stake. One hundred and forty five passengers would be our captive audience, and we all know what a drug that is!

So, we aborted a potential Sister Act! :)

Click here to see this post on Sue's website.

Whatever You Bury Inside, Buries You

I heard Dr. Janet Maccaro say on a network show, "Whatever you bury inside, buries you." She is the author of “A Woman’s Body Balanced by Nature.” Sounds like a book every woman should read. A woman in balance. A nature balanced woman. A woman I know very well, comes immediately to mind. I'm planning on ordering this book for this woman. Her name is Sue. And she is me. :)

You might think of your year in seasons like, winter - spring - summer - fall. This sugar-addict-turned-holistic-attempting-dried-fruit-nut, used to categorize my year this way: Valentine candy hearts, Girl Scout Cookies, Easter peanut butter eggs, candy corn and Christmas cookies. That's my definition of the seasons. And since I'm aware of my insatiable desire for sweets (no matter what it is), I bury all the reasons why I have such an addiction to begin with: Sugar tastes good. It's an instant fix, an instant high with a deadly future.

I haven't completely deleted all sugar from my so-called diet or way of life, but I'm not eating nearly as much as I used to. There's an irony in this process too. While not giving in to my palate's desires while guarding the intake of "sweet", I uncover some unfinished business in my spiritual and emotional reality. How can this be? How in the world can something so simple as deleting sugar expose a raw nerve or a discovery about my inner self.

Health professionals are in agreement: Sugar is in just about everything you eat. It covers up anything that (on its own) doesn't taste good. Keeping that in mind, it takes great discipline to read labels, to learn what foods (natural or not) are low in a glycemic index, and to keep the sugary processed stuff out of your mouth. I'm not an expert but I read labels and I also see the huge difference in my body and disposition when I just stay away from the sweet stuff.

"So, what is this really about, Sue??"

• I deleted the sugar (the fluff, the addiction, the cover-up) to find that there's no replacing what the power of the Holy Spirit can do.
• I deleted the sugar (the trends, the competition, the rat race) to find out that God is more concerned about what my real motives are.
• I deleted the sugar (the pride, the need to be right, the controlling spirit) to find out that my knees need to bow daily to Him and not the intoxicating toxin called ego. All along it's been the sugar of my own gospel that's been hiding all this stuff. 

It's a good thing to overcome an addiction. Don't get buried in a sugar bowl. 

Ironically, I speak and sing for events around the country called "Chocolate & Chuckles!" (I eat the strawberries!) And my latest album is called "Sweet Life". But the real teaser and twist to it all is - nothing, absolutely nothing - is sweeter than a real relationship with Jesus Christ. Now that takes the cake... No cover up here.

Crown Her With Many Crowns!

I just spent a small fortune on my hair. Ironically, there's no real or definitive "wow" to worthy such a ridiculous sum of moolah. Oh, it feels great; the color is natural; about seven shades of light brown... the cut is nice. But I keep thinking about the mouths I could have fed with this outlandish expenditure on my coiffure. Man. It bugged me for days. Finally, I just said to myself, "Well, at least you feel badly. That's a good sign. And you'll never do that again, will you?" Nope.

I have a few friends losing their hair due to cancer treatments. They have NEVER looked more beautiful. Bald. Shiny. Bold. Stylish. Coping... Without walking in their brave shoes, I have no right to even try to comprehend their feelings of loss. But most assuredly tell me, "It's unnervingly freeing - to not worry about my hair anymore! There are many other issues that are worry-worthy and hair is the least of these!"

I agree. I pray diligently for my courageously gorgeous friends who have accepted their cancer challenge in stride. There ARE so many other things that are more "worry-worthy" than just what's happening folic-ly.

Survival. Joy. Connection. Living. Breathing.....to name a few.

So, as I read 1 Peter 5:4, "And when the Chief Shepherd appears, you will receive the crown of glory that will never fade away...", it all makes more sense than ever.

The glory crown. On a head with or without hair. And the best part is it's not like modern hair color, dyes or pigments. This glory crown will never fade away. Trust me - this glory crown costs a whole lot more than a sitting in a salon chair. It's price-less.

But at the hand of the master-stylist, it's also free.

Ooooh! She Said A Bad Word!

Sue Duffield | Singer, Speaker, Humorist | Sue's Blog : Ooooh! She Said A Bad Word!


(True story!)

A friend told me that her little boy came home from Sunday School (what's that??) and tried to tell his mother that his teacher said a bad word. She tried not to make a big deal about it, but probed a little and asked a couple questions.

"Are you sure? What did she say?"

"I'm not allowed to say the word, mom. You told me I couldn't."

"Well, in this instance, Joey, it's OK to tell mom what the teacher said", she quickly responded.

Sitting on the stool in the kitchen, swinging his feet in the air, he blurted out, "It's the bad word that Daddy says a lot."

How could she not smirk? She looked away, then with a little composure came back to gaze at her 5 year old's face.

"Honey, you can tell me what she said. You won't be in trouble."

"Well, it's a good thing. How come daddy doesn't get in trouble when HE says it?"

"Joey, daddy DOES get in trouble when he says it, with me, anyway. But you still haven't told me what she said."

"OK, we were talking about camping and being outside and stuff, and she told us that Joshua in the Bible before he camped out and crossed over the Jordan, they left their "Shittim" home.

I'm sorry, but this is funny. :) LOL!

Read Joshua 3:1


It's true. It's funny. And be sure to look Joshua 3:1!

Sue's Blog : Sing With Me

Sue Duffield | Singer, Speaker, Humorist | Sue's Blog : Sing With Me

A little girl's attempt to fit in. She has a deeper voice than most. She finds her way. It's paid off big time...


In a much simpler time, my New Jersey family (the Crane clan) gets together at Uncle Elmer's house. We gather around the piano and sing until the wee hours of the morning. This is where I learn to sing harmony. This is where I feel the inborn connection of singing from the heart and not just from the vocal cords. My grandmother (Anne Crane Beatty) insists that I learn how to sing alto. This is a command that I treasure, no doubt. She not only bangs out the notes on the piano for me, but she sings the part. She smiles and raises her head up and down, as if to flow with each note. Then she says, "Don't worry. You'll feel it. Listen to the melody line first and then listen for the part underneath the melody." I hear it.

My mother always sings the melody. She's a soprano. Sometimes Aunt Ruth finds her spot too, singing whatever part is left. So, I am determined and destined to fit in somewhere. I search and find my home - the alto part. My voice is deeper than most little girls I know. I am so happy to find my place in the lower timbre. I am nine years old. And it is 1964.

Patti Page, Rosie Clooney, Marian Anderson, Nancy Wilson, Ethel Waters, Karen Carpenter and later - Ann Downing, Jeanne Johnson, Gloria Elliott, Marilyn McCoo, Kathy Triccoli and Oleta Adams would round out some of my favorite early and present influences. Great women with beautifully deep voice ranges. And all great enunciators too, never questioning lyrically what they're singing about.

So where am I going with all this in 2013? Here it is:

The greatest compliment a singer can receive (in my opinion) is when a listener says, "I love your singing. I love your tone and texture. I understand every word. But I especially love that you sing in a register where I can sing along with you too!"

There it is. The key. Many worship/inspirational/contemporary songs are difficult for most women to sing. Too high. But when they are keyed down to a lower register where a worshipper (musically inclined or not) can comfortably sing, YOUR song then becomes THEIR song. And if your ministry in music is truly about others, like you say, then this should register with you.

Sing your songs; do it with excellence. But get around the piano again. Teach, reach and enunciate and by all means, sing your songs so others can sing along with you. Together.

Drive By Devotion #28 "Clean Up Your Prayers"

I find something I've lost every time I pray. I also find something I've lost every time I clean. Put the two together and "Wah-lah!" - a breakthrough, a revelation, a Eureka! (pun intended!) Clean it up gals, and make prayer your first priority! :)

Such a great book this "Everything Belongs" by Richard Rohr. Quote from his book: "Spirituality is about seeing. It's not about earning or achieving. It's about relationship rather than results or requirements." (Amen)

My iPad's an iPhad

Since getting my prized beloved iPad 2 this past summer, I notice something. It's a discovery about me. And it's quite disturbing, actually. But the truth is I'm glad I caught it when I did.

Here's my confession. I'm not nearly as creative, innovative or productive using my new iPad as I was when using my laptop computer or journal. I've come to a couple of conclusions as to why my iPad sucked me dry:

• iPads are great for reading books, surfing the net and keeping up with social media, but not much for really really writing.
• Keeping notes on the Pages App has been OK but for the longterm writing of a book or manuscript, it's quite fatiguing for me. (I know - I need a Bluetooth keyboard or something..)
• It's an exceptional device. Smart, like they say. But it's not a stand-alone-computer.
• Editing personal videos? Forget it.
• Taking pictures? I look like a goober holding up a Vintage Kodak Box Camera. Or worse, it's like holding up a file cabinet.
• Extraordinarily convenient and great for using when speaking my messages, using my soundtracks, etc. but that's purely because I use my laptop to create and set up my iPad to do all of that!

I notice that since August, I barely write, journal or do any videos. I take tons of pictures but not with my iPad. I do that with my iPhone.

I was beginning to get down on myself and even wondered if I was tired, depressed or just in a season of blank writer's block despair. 

Then the awakening happens. I jump up and down! I figure it out! 

I dust off my seven year old MacBook, as limited as it is, and type this post!

I'm not deplete, dead or deactivated. I'm just in a catatonic viewing-mode-only of iPad-land!

And thankfully it's only January 1st. This discovery just saved me a ton of money in self-help recovery books, jump-start devotionals and a stint with a coach or therapist. And imagine this - All this rhetoric your reading today could have been prevented if I just would have re-read last year's New Year's Resolution from Sue Duffield's custom recycled ®Ecosystem journal. Using a ®Bic pen, she writes this: "Write more. In your own handwriting... Use less technology." 

Do You Have the "Bends"?

Ministry to women. That is my focus.

This past Sunday I shared a message from the book of Luke, chapter 13.
"A woman who had suffered with an infirmity for eighteen years, came to the synagogue." 
She was so bent over she couldn't see anything but the ground.
All I said was, "She could have been abused, broken and battered by any a number of things, people, ill health, a demon...".
But Luke describes that on this day, there is a guest speaker in the synagogue. This teacher is Jesus.
He sees the woman. He calls her out saying,
"Daughter of Abraham..".
And from there He announces her healing before even laying hands on her. She then stands up for the first time in almost two decades. Healed. Free.

"What are the things bending you?", I ask. "What are the tragedies of abuse in your life, that have you looking down instead of up? Or, in whom have you battered or caused pain?"

After the service, in the foyer, I stand greeting and hugging many new friends. I look to my left. Waiting in line are seven men, many with tears in their eyes. One man confesses his sin of abuse of his wife to me. He says that God has clearly delivered him. Another young man asks for prayer regarding how he should treat and raise his teenage daughter. Another expresses his shame and wants to be delivered of a genetic curse of abuse in his family.

I'm so moved I can hardly talk..
I'm now bending over - not in pain, but in a groaning-like submission to the call of Christ.

Clearly, this is a divine appointment. Finally, an older man expresses the sentiment of the day.
"Ms. Sue, in my own state of being bent over for the wrong thing, I now want to bend my knee for the right thing."

Once an abuser - now a servant - of the One - who abused His own body for our redemption.

This day was a ministry to men.

"Sweet Life" CD release

The brand new CD, "Sweet Life" is here! Take a musical glimpse of Sue Duffield in her vintage venue of progressive gospel music, targeting every woman. This project, filled with original compositions, features, "Price Is Right" (Not For Sale), an awareness passion-filled song to open the hearts and minds of those who know little about human trafficking, dedicated to Redeeming Roses, Malaysia.

Also included are fun tunes like "Sweet Life" (Chocolate & Chuckles theme song!) and "Sweet & Salty Sisterhood", celebrating the joy and struggle of being a woman of strength. Others include, "Give Me Jesus", written by Neil Enloe and "I Am The Word" written by Phil Enloe. Sue also takes the liberty to bring back two of her all-time favorites, "Song of Deborah" and "Jeremiah's Promise", introducing them to a whole new generation. A re-make of Helen Reddy's tune, "I Am Woman", will make you smile as well as encourage all of us, to do more than just roar - let's pray! "Son of Man's Man" is a country frolic with a powerful message for all single gals! "We Need Each Other" brings the smooth jazz musical genius of Jeff Duffield, her husband and arranger, to the forefront. Written in the 80's, Sue revisits her song with a whole new direction and passion.
Musicians contributing to this project are: Drums, Rick Murray. Bass, Robby Meadows. Sax, Mark Douthit. Keys, Jeff Duffield. Guitar, Joel Key. Vocals recorded at Oak Tree Studios, Hendersonville, TN. 

Available NOW on CDBaby and iTunes too!