Coulda, Shoulda Waited

 “Let each of you look not only to your own welfare, but also to the interests of others.” - - Philippians 2:4

Jenni was so excited about this weekend’s Homecoming Dance – the first big social event of her senior year.  As a member of the Student Council, she helped plan every aspect of the week’s festivities – the pep rally, parade, halftime, and of course the Dance.

Trey, her date, was someone special.  Her parents adored him; so polite, so mature – a real gentleman.  There was a certain spark between them – something she thought might catch fire slowly, like the glow of a warm campfire.

Mom loved her new dress but Jenni wasn’t sure how she could tell - Mom bawled like a baby every time she put it on.  Their little girl was maturing!  Maybe someday she too would understand how difficult it is for parents to watch their children grow away.

Everything came together perfectly.  The Rally must have worked; the football team crushed their cross town rivals, for a change.  Now they owned bragging rights for her senior year.  Sweet!

Two nights ago she and Dad had the ‘talk.’  “Things can happen,” he cautioned.  “You have our complete trust, but you must also trust and honor your self!  Temptations you would normally ignore might pull you down an unfamiliar path.  Be careful!”

Her moral compass read ‘true north.’  She’d never do anything to deliberately hurt them or give them reason to question whether they had failed in some way as parents.

He tried so hard to be subtle; not to embarrass her.  But when he finally just put it on the line – Jenni understood completely.  “Don’t drink, don’t drive, don’t drive with anyone who has!  As for the ‘other stuff’ – just keep asking yourself if it’d be something you’d be uncomfortable telling me about later.  If yes – it’s probably something to avoid, for now.”  She loved him for trying – it must have been difficult.

Jenni and her friends left the house around noon.  Time to prep for the Dance: manicure, pedicure, hair, makeup.  She felt like a celebrity.  This would be the BEST day of her life.

They slowed through an intersection.  A teenage driver, going way too fast, ran the red light and broadsided the girls, killing all three, instantly.  He would later confess that he was texting in conversations with four different friends at the time of the accident.  A really bad choice!  Lives changed forever that day, including his.

Later than night, Trey rang their doorbell - not to pick up Jenni, but rather to console her parents.  A boutonniere was pinned on the lapel of his new suit; a farewell gesture to the lovely girl who was to have been his Homecoming date.

Jesus, how hard it must have been for You to have been betrayed by one of your friends.  We do that sometimes too.  Help us grow stronger by overcoming bad habits and stopping behaviors that might put others in danger.  Amen

The Concrete Mattress

“Share your food with everyone who is hungry; share your home with the poor and homeless; give clothes to those in need.” -- Isaiah 58:7

The homeless man clutched within his nicotine-stained fingers, a yellowed photo of a woman who might have been his mother . . . or his ex-wife.  No greetings are exchanged - perhaps, none are needed.

It’s nearly midnight.  Simon wanders among the urban decay with no particular destination in mind.  He nearly trips over a guy sleeping on the sidewalk.  Mercifully, the dim light hides the pain he must be suffering.  The man’s entire worldly possessions lay near his bare, calloused feet: his past, his present, and likely his future.  

So many who once had hopes and dreams swept now into dark, lonely corners.  Too many!  There’s an old woman with a small bag of faded clothing, a frayed sleeping bag, and chipped coffee mug that may have once held hope.  Why do so many have nowhere to call home?

Simon glances down the moonlit sidewalk.  Row after row of homeless bodies lay on newspapers, cardboard, or anything else they can find to shield them from the unforgiving concrete, and from the world.

Some had coats over their heads as they slept.  Others tossed and turned, trying desperately to find a comfort that doesn’t exist in a place like this.  Comfort isn’t something that’s part of their existence, unless you call a bowl of warm soup and a stale dinner roll at the shelter a consolation.

A salty tear moistens his cheek as Simon attempts [in vain] to nonchalantly stroll amongst these forgotten souls.  He tries to understand what it means to have nothing: no home, no job, no love!  Worst of all - no smile to greet them when the sunrise wakens them to their daily troubles.   

He whispers a silent prayer as he quietly slips away into the darkness to make his way back home.  Sadly, he didn’t find his father among the sleeping faces tonight.  He’ll return again tomorrow, hoping that some divine force will reconnect them again.

But his search has opened his eyes to a new reality.  He sees with clarity now, that the homeless are not invisible.  They could be an old friend, a former co-worker, or even a war hero.  They might even be your Dad.

The homeless didn’t ask to be where they are. They rise each day, hoping to break loose from their cloak of obscurity - for another chance to prove themselves, to find acceptance, to find one person who really cares. 

Tonight, he tasted the tears of humility.  He knows that God smiles down on them and that one day they too will soar like eagles.

 God of love, fill us with a sense of justice.  Help us in Your work, to take the side of the homeless, the struggling, and the broken.  Help us now befriend those abandoned, protect the weak, and speak for those whose voice is unheard. Amen.

The Barber's Poll

“I speak of things I don’t fully understand, things too wonderful for me to know” -- Job 42:3

I loved going to the barbershop with my Dad.  It was a ‘guy’ thing.  Past the red and white striped pole, it was like entering an outlaw’s clubhouse – a place where old men gathered to talk about sports, politics, women and stuff that must have been better in the “Good Ol’ Days.”

I marveled at Tony, in his French cuffs and satin vest, as the barber slapped his razor across the leather belt, honing the blade to an exact sharpness before each shave.

When Tony called Dad’s name, it was like summoning him to the altar of a high priest – an enormous throne with enough chrome embellishments to make a ’58 Buick green with envy.  And when he placed the drape around your shoulders, you felt like you were wearing the vestments of some powerful king.

Then Tony went to work, as skilled as any fine craftsman.  The conversation began as his hands worked with deft precision. 

“I don't believe that God exists!" Tony commented noting the cross around Dad’s neck.  To this day, I don’t know if Tony really believed that, or if he was just trying to elicit a reaction from Dad.  Everyone in this small town knew we attended church regularly.

Pokerfaced, Dad asked, “Why do you say that?"

Tony asserted, "Well, if God exists, why are there so many sick people?  Would a caring God allow children to go hungry or abandoned?”  He persisted, a bit ‘preachy’ now, “If God existed, there wouldn’t be suffering or pain; a loving God wouldn’t allow these terrible things."

Dad thought for a moment, not really wanting to provoke an argument with a guy holding a sharp instrument to his neck.  “Maybe the better question,” he suggested was, “Why do we do bad things to each other?”

That seemed to silence the barber.  Tony finished, we paid and left the shop.  Once out on the street, we spotted an unkempt man with long, filthy hair and a shapeless beard.  Dad turned on his heels and returned to the barbershop: "Tony, I just realized - Barbers don’t exist."

"What?” snapped Tony, a surprised look on his face. "I’m here and I’m obviously a barber!"

"No!" Dad explained.  "Barbers don't exist!  If they did, there wouldn’t be people with dirty long hair and mangy beards . . . like that man outside."

"Ah, but barbers DO exist!” Tony replied smugly. “That's what happens when people stay away from me."

"Exactly!" Dad said triumphantly. "God EXISTS, too!  That's what happens when people don’t seek Him for help.  Some of God's greatest gifts are unanswered prayers.

“Dear child, I’ve been present in your life from the second you were born. I’ve never left you alone one single time, you have to believe Me.  I let you experience heartbreak and frustration in order to build the wonderful character you possess today.” - God

Are Angels For Real?

“Angels are spirits sent to serve people who are going to be saved.”-- Hebrews 1:14

Angela and her eight year old daughter Cassie were sipping hot chocolate on their deck one cool fall morning.  They rose early to watch the sun pierce the darkness; barely noticeable at first – a small warm, rosy glow.  And then as if to take flight, the sun rises quickly, spilling golden light across the backyard, blanketing the grassy field and eventually scaling the tallest pines.  They continued to watch it grow into a gigantic fireball heating the earth as it rose to the top of the sky. 

It was so peaceful watching a new day dawn – the chance to restart, an opportunity to explore something unfamiliar.  Cassie wasted no time posing a question that’d been bugging her for some time.

“Mom,” she began purposefully, “Do angels really exist?  We talk about them in Sunday School, but nobody’s ever seen one, have they?”

As was common with Cassie, Angela needed a moment to absorb the question.  Her curiosity could be both irresistible and overwhelming.  “Well,” she hesitated, “It’s really up to you if you want to believe in angels or not!” 

Simple enough, but not the precise answer Cassie had expected.  This was going to take more thought.  Her mind began buzzing with ideas.  Later that morning, she hopped on her bike and rode to the library where she read everything she could find about angels.  Only after careful reflection, did she conclude the following:

I believe angels exist – but it’s up to you to see them or not.  I saw it in the sunrise today, and every time snowflakes collect on a windowpane, or when rain drops twinkle on a leaf after the rain.  Angels are God’s helpers, like a kid who shows you the beauty in simple things, or a friend who makes you laugh when you’re sad.  They can even be strangers who do nice things for other people – just because!

Angels come in all sizes and shapes: some have freckles, some have dimples, some even have wrinkles.  They’re disguised as teachers, baby sitters, bus drivers, and little brothers.  They don't take life too seriously.  They leave no forwarding address, they ask nothing in return. They are hard to find when your eyes are closed, but they are everywhere, when you choose to see them.

And when you go to Heaven, even if you didn’t believe in them, you can become an Angel to help others become the kind of person God wants them to be.  - The End

Mom was crying as Cassie finished reading her story out loud . . . tears because, as her beautiful daughter was reading, gossamer wings seemed to appear briefly on Cassie’s back.

Angel of God - guide, protect and enlighten me.  Encourage me when I am disheartened; teach me when I err in judgment.  Help me to become more Christ-like, so that I might be accepted into the company of Angels and Saints in heaven.  Amen

Golden Anniversary

"Treat everyone just like you want to be treated yourself.” - - Luke 6:31

Judy and Hal Dalton celebrate their anniversary every year by making pastrami sandwiches at home - a tradition that began with their first date nearly two decades ago.  Today they followed an elderly couple driving “slower than chilly molasses” into the grocery store parking lot.

"If I ever get that slow I want you to shoot me," Hal said, his voice agitated with impatience.

"You're already that slow," Judy quipped.  She had a not-so-subtle way of keeping him humble.  He loved that about her. 

Finally, the old geezer pulled into a handicapped parking space.  With some difficulty, the two eventually entered the store.  She used a walker – he managed with a 3-legged cane.

After picking out fresh lettuce and several tomatoes, the Dalton’s arrived at the meat counter, right behind the elderly couple, sloooowly debating their options.  The old man picked up a small package of pork chops.  Holding them out to his wife he replied, "This sure would be good for our anniversary!"

"You know we can't afford that honey," came her modest reply.

Sadly, he placed the package back on the counter and they continued down the aisle.  He opted for a small package of hamburger instead.

Judy looked squarely at Hal.  When it was their turn, the Dalton’s ordered four of the butcher’s best center-cut pork chops.  “Two inches thick please," Judy told him.  “And please write ‘HAPPY ANNIVERSARY’ on top of the white meat package in bold letters.”

A third chance meeting took place in the pastry aisle.  “Did I overhear that it’s your anniversary today?” Hal asked the older gentleman.

"Fifty years today," he grinned proudly.

"Eighteen for us," Judy chimed in.  “Happy Anniversary, God bless you both.”

Small talk followed briefly.  The older women continued to add a few more things to her grocery list.

Exiting the checkout aisle, the Dalton’s removed the pork chops from their bag and instructed the cashier to secretly slip the meat in the older couple’s grocery bag when they checked out.   Then they watched discreetly from a distance.  While the sweet older woman fumbled through her purse, the cashier placed the pork chops in the bottom of their grocery bag.       

The Daltons watched as the older couple’s vehicle eventually made it onto the busy street.  Cars quickly lined up behind them, horns blaring with intolerance.

"Thank you for the anniversary present dear,” Judy said to Hal.  “It's the best one ever!"  They looked adoringly into each other’s eyes . . . and kissed.  At home, while unpacking their groceries, they found a short, hand-written, barely-legible note.  It said simply ‘Happy Anniversary – Never give up!’

 We thank You, O God, for the love You have implanted in our hearts.  May it always inspire us to be kind in our words, prayerful in our desires, and concerned for each other's needs and wishes.  Help us to be understanding and forgiving of human weaknesses and failings.  Amen

A 911 Love Story

“Love is kind and patient, never jealous, boastful, proud, or rude.” -- 1 Corinthians 13:4

Klaus and Shaina met in New York.  She was neither beautiful nor extraordinary.  Nothing would make her stand out in a crowd – she was dusky with very normal features.   Not gorgeous, but she had a gift for making others feel beautiful about themselves. 

Without warning, Shaina fell in love with the rugged, handsome Klaus.

Having to return to India temporarily to care for an ailing mother, she bid Klaus farewell hoping her absence would fuel his passion for her.  No such luck!  While she was gone, he fell in love with Amy - an attractive American girl: blond, blue-eyed and busty.

“She looks like an angel,” he told Shaina upon her return.  As a lump gathered in her throat, Shaina swallowed the news gracefully.  “As long as he’s happy!” she’d rationalize.  Shaina helped him write the most romantic letters to his Amy, dreaming she was the recipient instead.  She helped him choose the right clothes, say the right words, and buy the right gifts for his ‘Angel.’

It wasn’t easy for her to let go.  It took courage to live life again; patience, to wait for the hurt to go away; and faith, to know that she’d be happy again someday. 

One crisp fall morning Klaus decided to meet Amy at her brother’s office on the lower west side.  They’d have coffee together - the perfect opportunity for Klaus to propose marriage with her brother as witness.  Klaus had never been more scared. 

He was only a few minutes away when he heard the sound of jet engines overhead - way too loud.  This seemed odd - the airport was 30 minutes away and planes never flew this low.

Before he realized what was happening, he saw the first of two airliners crash into the North Tower of the World Trade Center.  Panicked, he fell to the ground, conscious but dazed.  Nothing seemed to make sense.   Later it would register that everyone on board and hundreds more in the buildings would die.  Any chance that his sweet Amy had survived faded like a smoke-drenched sunset.

Shaina listened for weeks as Klaus agonized over his lost love.  In time, his wounds would heal; hurt became hope, pain turned to joy.  And he realized something deeper – an admiration for Shaina like never before.  Her friendship brightened his darkest days.  Her compassion filled his empty heart.  His plain-Jane Shaina had become beautiful to him.

He was falling in love with this amazing woman.  They’d do everything together – shop, visit museums, take long walks.  Life was magnificent . . . and he knew why.  I’m sure you know how this story ends.

God, You heal everything in Your time.  Thank you for friends who love us, share our pain, laugh with us in celebration, need us as we need them, hold us when words fail, and give us the freedom to be ourselves.  Bless them with health, joy, and love.  Amen.

Friends Are God's Handiwork

“Let’s consider how we may encourage one another toward love and good deeds.” -- Hebrews 10:24-25

When he’d married Jenny, Doug gained her best friend Sally as well.  Naturally, the two husbands became friends too because they knew the women were inseparable.  Both couples added baby daughters at nearly the same time and to no one’s surprise, the two girls, Katie and Melissa, became BFFs as well.

Arriving home from work one day, Doug found a hastily scribbled note: “Masons in car accident. Melissa hurt badly.  HURRY!”  That night they would all begin to grieve their friends’ tragic loss.  Things got worse a year later when Sally’s marriage ended in divorce.

Doug too would suffer a terrible heartbreak.  After she’d collapsed in the bookstore, he held Jenny’s limp hand until the ambulance’s monitor told him she’d never open her eyes again.  A brain aneurysm ended their 7 year romance.

Weeks went by, and he’d still sleep on Jenny’s pillow at night for solace.  Katie still sobbed whenever they drove near the bookstore.  Doug was forced to return to work, leaving his distraught, clinging daughter with a sitter.  At night, he scorched dinners and bleached the dye out of her brightly-colored clothes.  By the time school started, they were both exhausted. 

The first day of school arrived.  Doug helped Katie fill her backpack, made a peanut butter sandwich (cut diagonally just the way Jenny did it), and helped her pick out just the right earrings.  But when it came to her hair, he was clueless.  Disappointment filled her young, sad eyes . . . he didn’t have the slightest idea how to braid.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered and kissed the back of her head.  Katie shrugged, trying to look brave.  As if on cue, the doorbell rang.  Sally stood outside.

“Hi guys,” she said quietly. “Sorry to intrude.  I just thought . . . well, wondered really . . . if Katie might like some help getting ready for school today.”  He nodded approvingly.

She slipped in quietly, squeezing Doug’s arm as she made her way to Katie’s room.  Katie was thrilled!  Sally’s hands quivered as she ran her fingers through Katie’s hair, skillfully weaving the long hair into a beautiful braid.

“Just like Mommy!” Katie beamed with adoration.

The two hugged and Sally said, “Have a great day, honey.” 

After Katie left, Doug walked Sally to the door. “I can come,” she offered haltingly, “In the morning, if you like . . . until you get the hang of it.”

“Thank you,” he said appreciatively, tears soaking his cheeks now.  “What made you come?”

She smiled peacefully. “Because wherever Jenny is, she’s taking care of my baby, too.”

Friends are God’s handiwork – designed for a magnificent purpose.  Never let the passion for your friendships fade.  To glorify Him – be the best friend!

Lord Jesus, help me not to become complacent or lazy about my friendships.  Show me fresh new ways to grow Your glory in the lives of the people I care most about.  Amen

Tommy Can You Hear Me?

“Be still in the presence of the Lord, and wait patiently for him to act. -- Psalm 37:7

Tommy was a “piece of work!” who added lively debate to Dr. Roy Baker’s Theology of Faith class.

A self-proclaimed "atheist," Tommy constantly objected to and smirked at the prospect of an unconditionally-loving God.  It was mostly peaceful discourse – but Roy would admit privately that Tommy was a serious ‘pain’ in his back row.

When he turned in his final exam, Tommy asked cynically: "Do you think I'll ever find God?"

"No!" Roy quipped emphatically.  "I don't think you'll ever find Him . . . but I’m absolutely certain that He’ll find you!"

Tommy shrugged and left Roy’s class and his life . . . until cancer struck him – Stage IV, both lungs, weeks to live.  His body now tormented by the effects of chemotherapy, Tommy went back to see his old professor.  

"What's it like to be twenty-four and dying?" Roy asked tenderly.

Tommy answered, "It could be worse!”  I could be your age and have wasted my life; thinking that booze, hustling women, and making money are life’s real treasures.  I thought a lot about what you told me that day about God finding me.”

“When the doctors told me the lump they removed was malignant,” Tommy continued, “I started searching for God.  And when my condition got worse, I seriously began banging my bloody fists on heavens’ gates.  No friggin’ answer; nothing changed!  So one day, instead of throwing a few more fruitless appeals to a God who wasn’t listening, I quit!  No more thoughts about an afterlife.”

“Then I remembered something else you said in class: “The greatest sadness is to go through life without loving. Worse yet, to leave this world without ever telling those you loved  . . . how much.”

"So I began with the hardest one: my Dad.  It felt so good to get close to my father, to see his tears, to feel his hug, to hear that he loved me.  It was easier with my Mom and little brother.  They cried with me and shared things we had kept secret for years.”

“I wished I hadn’t waited so long.  Then, one day I turned around and God was there.  Apparently He does things in His own way!  You were right; God found me even after I stopped looking for Him."

Roy was astounded.  It seemed like God had sent everyone he’d tried to forget, back into his life to reeducate him.

Tommy agreed to return to Roy’s Theology class and tell his story.  But he never made it.  He had another appointment, one far more important.  His life didn’t end by his death, it only changed.

Father, the surest way to find You is not to make You a private possession, a problem solver, or an instant comfort in time of need, but rather to open our hearts to You. Love will find a way . . . indifference will find an excuse.  Amen.