Weather the Storm

“Good people might fall again and again, but they always get up." ~ Proverbs 24:16

Having bagged the highest peaks on six continents, Alison had but one to go - the BIG one.  She dreamed of climbing Mount Everest, the highest mountain on earth at 8,850M.  

She was well aware of the dangers of high-altitude mountaineering.  By the end of the 2011 climbing season, Everest had claimed 236 lives most due to selfish ambition, altitude sickness . . . and bad luck!  It still grips most of their corpses. 

She prepared for anything to go wrong - an oxygen tank malfunction, her tent blown away by wind, dropping a piece of equipment that couldn’t be retrieved.  Any of those could end her quest.

They’d already climbed into the ‘Death Zone’ where at over 8,750M, life can’t survive.  The body starts to decline; each step requires 5 to 10 deep breaths.  She’d come too far to turn back now.  Allison had already survived three heart surgeries and suffered from a neurological disease that left her at extreme risk for frostbite.

Weather conditions were abominable and deteriorating quickly.  Visibility had plunged; massive winds were blowing snow UP the mountain.  Allison was growing weary – already having lost more than 10% of her pre-climb body weight.  Lonely and afraid after two months on the mountain, she and her teammates were just a few hundred feet from the summit when they were forced to turn back.  They had no choice!  Their adventure would not end at the top of the world.

Everest kept another dark secret - most deaths occurred while descending the mountain.  Extreme temperatures caused Allison’s regulator to freeze on the way down so she travelled for three hours to the camp immediately below the summit sans oxygen; barely able to stand during the last 30 minutes to safety.  She was one of the fortunate ones – 5 others hadn’t been so lucky today.  Allison didn't make it to Everest’s peak, but she made it back alive! 

Later she’d tell friends that she’d conquer the brutal ‘Himalayan Beast’ someday because “it had stopped growing.”  She, on the other hand, would learn from her mistakes.

And she did . . . eight years later.  Crossing deep chasms on rickety ladders, navigating bus-sized ice blocks that moved on average 4 feet per day, Allison overcame the deep anxiety that had forced them to back years before.  After learning from the harsh realities of her first trek, she knew what it took to continue the climb in dangerous conditions.

Failure can be a blessing.  It can build confidence and boost creativity.  When uncertainties and mishaps arise, we need to be able to weather the storms if we’re going to enjoy the kind of view God prepared for us at the top of the world.

Lord, give me faith in myself.  Not only on the days when I am winning and nothing seems impossible, but on days when I wonder if I am brave enough, smart enough, strong enough.  Don't let me quit, not ever.  Amen

An Angry Heart

“Give your worries to the LORD and He will never let you down." ~ Psalm 55:22

Abby lived on a fishing boat. Unable to afford a home, her father raised her aboard a rickety vessel on which he’d made a paltry living since Abby’s mother died.

As she sliced open the belly of yet another salmon, she dreamed of a better life; one absent the stares from villagers and taunts from classmates. But this was her fate – flouting the restless sea, greedy seagulls, and the stench of fish guts and diesel fuel. She soaked in the quiet.

Her calm was broken suddenly by the telling signs of an impending storm. Recalling the ‘red’ sunrise earlier today, Abby watched a mountain of dark clouds approach from the south; their undersides black with rage.

She rushed below deck. "Dad! Dad, wake up!"

He lay motionless from an alcohol stupor that would normally keep him mentally vacant ‘til dawn’s first light. She grabbed his shoulders and shook him. His head bounced off the headboard. He cursed, "What the hell’s going on?”

"Dad, we’ve got to leave the boat now. Storm’s coming – big one!"

He staggered to the deck, saw the clouds and fired the engines.

"Dad! Where’re we going?

"Can’t stay here,” he cautioned. “If we do, this old boat will be crushed to kindling. We’ll take our chances out to sea."

They headed into the storm. Fuming clouds churned; waves crashed over the bow. The dark day turned into a blacker night. He wrapped her warm in his seaman's coat against the stinging salt mist. He wrapped himself in his own miserable reflections.

The boiling sea, he thought, was like a drunken sailor raging through a barroom looking for a fight. Could this be God’s wrath – final payment for a life lived poorly? He dropped to the deck and offered a simple prayer, “Father forgive me; help me do better.”

Soon the wind dimmed; the waves subsided; and the sky brightened. They sailed back into utter ruin. The wharf was gone. The boats that had been tied to it sat damaged on rocks that guarded the coastline like sharp, jagged teeth. Theirs was the only boat that survived the storm.

Abby hugged her father, "You're my hero, Dad!"

He shook his head. "I'm no hero, I'm a drunken bum! If not for you, our boat would be on the shore like the rest of them." He stared at the wreckage. "God protected us for a reason . . . to give me a second chance."

“I love you Dad,” her tears washing the salt from her cheeks.

He stopped drinking. As the only remaining fishing business in the village, they prospered and soon had a nice home and a new boat. He stayed sober.

Lord, we’re like ships on an angry sea - suffering, lonely, hungry, unemployed, emotionally bankrupt, medically challenged. Let no heart be troubled. Though our ships may be tossed by the terrors of this day, thank You for always being with us. Amen

Dirt Poor, Rich Spirit

“Give generously to the poor; the Lord will bless you beyond measure." ~ Deuteronomy 15:10

At 23, Brenda didn't have much to show for her good cheer. No car. No savings. No story-book vacation anytime soon. In spite of that, in spite of everything, her’s was a place in the universe as pure as freshly fallen snow.

As Christmas approached, Brenda-the-all-night-truck-stop waitress moseyed to work strangely content in the sunset’s dimming light. She loved her job; these were her kind of people. They were among society’s poorer folk, especially when compared to doctors, fire fighters and factory workers. Brenda didn't just wait on them at the Diner for minimum wage plus tips. She served up a wealth of good cheer . . . in ways that only a Creator could give someone poor in pocket, but rich in spirit.

Ninety minutes into her 12-hour shift, a family of four entered the Diner. She’d not seen them before. They must have been either lost or perhaps part of the growing class of ‘nouveau-poor.’ Brenda guessed the latter because they seemed uneasy; perhaps a bit ashamed, possibly shaken by one of life’s dreadful twists.

Jason, his wife Yvonne and their children took a seat at a booth in the corner. Jason had lost his $125,000-a-year job as an IT Manager. Yvonne had until recently, chosen to be a stay-at-home Mom. She’d been forced to take a job at Burger Barn to cover the cost of groceries. The emotional strain on the children was taking its toll. Though he and Yvonne discussed their problems in whispers, ‘eagle ears’ didn’t miss much.

Tonight was special – Matthias’ 7th birthday, and although money was tight, they were splurging at the local Diner to celebrate. By ordering two meals and sharing them, they’d have money left over for a tasty desert.

Brenda picked up on their situation immediately. Frugality was no mystery to her having grown up in a large, single parent household. There’d always been food on the table, mostly pastas and chicken. She’d learned that not only was it okay to be poor, it was even a "blessing." After all, didn’t the Bible say that it was harder for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven than for a camel to go through the eye of a needle?

So she doubled their order. “This one’s on me,” she told the Diner’s owner.

When she placed four hearty meals on the table, she explained that there had been a mistake in the kitchen. “Tonight will have to be on us!” she said with contrition. “And by the way, I heard this is a special night. So chocolate cake with ice cream is on the house too. Sorry for the confusion, and happy birthday young man!”

Dear Lord, we lift up to you the poor and the discarded. We know that You are a God whose heart cries out for justice; that You are a God who longs to help those oppressed. We ask simply, Lord, that you give us Your heart.  Amen

Shoeless Joe

“Whatever you did for the poorest of my family, you did for Me." ~ Matthew 25:40

He came barefoot to church every Sunday.  Unaffected by the shameful glances, old Joe looked out of place in his tattered clothes – rags so worn that it was impossible to guess what era they originally belonged to.  Emma was drawn to him immediately . . . and determined to find out why.

After the service, Emma hurried out the doors and waited until she spotted his bare feet amidst a flood of Sunday’s-best shoes.  As Joe headed toward the alley, she ran to catch up.  “Excuse me sir.  I’ve something for you,” she exclaimed holding out a small envelope.

He turned, brows furrowed above warm green eyes.  “Have we met?” he asked.

“Not formally,” Emma explained, “but this is for you . . . so you can buy some new shoes for church.”

His lips curved into a smile. “You’re very kind, and tucked the envelope in his ragged trousers.   “Name’s Joe,” he said before continuing down the alley, head down, hands back in his pockets.

The following Sunday, Joe arrived at church early - same worn clothing and barefoot still.  Curiosity peaking, Emma followed him from a discreet distance down the alley.   Joe walked toward a series of rundown houses surrounding a small, dusty soccer field where children too, ran barefoot.

He slipped into an old building and switched on the only light in the cluttered room.  Emma watched from behind the privacy of a filthy glass pane as Joe picked up a mallet and started pounding on something.  Then he turned the object over, examined it in the dim light, and stroked his wrinkled chin approvingly. 

How odd, Emma thought, Shoe-less Joe was a shoe-maker.  Admiring his final product one last time, Joe turned off the shop light and retired to rest.

Each day that week, Emma went to the field and watched as Joe delivered shoes to different families.  He’d spend the day carefully making shoes and the evening passing them out.  

Finally she approached the old cobbler and said “I don’t understand. Why?”

He smiled gently as the children ran happily across the field. “I’m kinda like God’s money manager.  I try and act as a faithful steward of the many gifts He lets me borrow.”

A few weeks later, Emma saw one of the families from the now-familiar ghetto entering her church.  The mother was wearing brand new shoes; the father and their children wore the shoes Joe hand-crafted for them.  Emma smiled, savoring the cold floor beneath her bare feet. 

Friends, our possessions are to be used not merely for our own enjoyment but for the benefit of the world around us.  So go ahead, unclench your fist.  Open your hand.  Become the conduit of God’s love that expresses itself in serving others.

Lord Jesus, help us who have received so freely from You to give as freely in return, and so have the pleasure of giving as well as the happiness of receiving.  Amen

Bear Cares

“Do all the good you can, to all the people you can, as long as ever you can."  ~ John Wesley

I’m Bear, a dog specially trained to help people who don’t see well.  My training started when I was just a few weeks old.  Some very nice people began cuddling and petting me.  Puppies learn faster and bond better with humans when we’re treated kindly. 

We’d go for short walks.  I hated being on a leash, but my humans were gentle with me while I learned to behave myself.  God must have given puppy raisers more patience than most people.  It wouldn’t take long before I’d become so exhausted that I’d fall asleep in Mom’s arms.  It was my favorite place for a nap.

During the next year, she taught me all sorts of neat stuff.  I learned not to bark at cars and how to walk over grates.  But the hardest part for me was not chasing squirrels.  It still bugs me that they know I’m harmless.

As I grew older, we went to lots more places – like church.  I sat in the sanctuary with people who’d love to pet me, but I had to be a “good girl” - no chewing, playing, or barking.   Restaurants are the most challenging because despite all the great-smelling things on top of the table, I had to just sit on the floor and act disinterested.    

One day I went off to a special school.  Six months of intensive training to learn about curbs, stairs, and obstacles.  They taught me how to guide a person at night, in the rain, and on busy streets.

After I passed all of my tests, I got my own person.  He loved me immediately; I could tell.  He hugged me a lot.  We worked together for a month before Graduation Day.  The hard work paid off.  My life is wonderful - serving as my friend Dave’s eyes.  We go everywhere together.  I’m one lucky dog!

Today at the store, Dave and I walked up and down the greeting card aisle.  He can see a little, so he picked up a card, held it up very close to his face, and tried to read it.  Reading is one thing I haven’t mastered yet.

Just as Dave was about to give up, a big guy looked over at me and realized that my master could use a little help.  He then proceeded to read almost every single greeting card out loud until Dave smiled and said, “That’s perfect!  My wife will love that one!”

Do you suppose, just perhaps, that God made dogs to show us a little something about Himself?  Do you think maybe "man's best friend" is really pointing us to the One who is truly our very Best Friend?

“Loving God, there is nothing more selfless, loving or patient than a dog.  Its name (DOG) is a mirror-reflection of your own name (GOD).  Hear our humble prayer, O God.  Make us as faithful as our K9 companions.  Amen.

Breaking the Sound Barrier

“Love each other like family.  Be kind and understand each other." ~ 1 Peter 3:8

Not to be confused with pink or white, Ron was definitely a “blue collar” guy.  His dad was a Vietnam War Vet who lost the ultimate battle with alcoholism.  Ron was a fatherless boy who paid the ultimate price for a country that sends its middle class to war.

Ron fixed cars for everyone in the neighborhood.  He could listen to a car and tell you what’s wrong.  Nobody offered to pay him because they couldn’t afford him.  They all knew he was worth far more than the money in their pockets.

He worked every trade on his way through life.  He poured cement, remodeled old buildings, and laid concrete.  He had some carpentry skills, but eventually settled on pipefitting.  Like the name implied, pipe fitters installed and repaired almost anything that carries liquids or gasses.  They are often exposed to dangerous materials such as steam, flammable gases, and various resins.  He loved his job . . . that was until the accident.

The factory where Ron worked used a steam boiler to wash metal parts.  When the boiler’s pressure got too high, an alarm sounded and Ron would open a valve to release the excess steam into a cooling tank.  He’d done this many times without incident until that fateful day . . . when a terrible explosion . . . left him, among other injuries, legally deaf in both ears.

Devastation didn’t come close to describing Ron’s outlook.  He could no longer hear anything or participate normally in the world around him.  Ron began a heartbreaking journey from isolation into depression.  When he considered the thought of returning to work, his heart would skip a beat, one that could be detected by a seismograph.

“Am I ready?” he wondered.  “Will I ever be useful again?  How will I communicate with my buddies?  Will I be able to service that old boiler again without freaking out?  Will the company resent me for what happened?”

After almost six months off work, Ron got out of his car and limped cautiously toward the factory entrance.  He had a lump the size of a piano in his throat.  Maybe I’m not ready for this he worried, considering a hasty retreat. 

Sweating profusely and feeling a little lightheaded, he offered a little prayer before walking into the plant.  To his amazement, several of his colleagues ‘signed’ him phrases like “Great to see you Ron!” Welcome back, my friend!” and “We missed you!”

While Ron was absent from work, seven of his closest friends had gotten together and taken a sign language course. They wanted to be able to communicate with him when he returned.  And for a fleeting moment, all was right with the universe.

Father, open our ears that we may hear the cries of those lonely, those discouraged, those frightened and those otherwise troubled.  Open our hearts Lord, that we may love each other as You love us.  Amen

Never Judge a Song by its Title

“Don't judge others, and God won't judge you." ~ Luke 6:37

Julianne was ‘significantly’ pregnant.  In her mind’s eye she envisioned her baby sucking his thumb, blinking, and rotating inside her tummy, practicing the skills needed for his next gig as a newborn.

Leaving her sister’s apartment, she cursed herself for staying so late.   She’d had to park in a nearby lot because they lacked accessible parking.  Snow-freezing fog had developed into heavy snowfall.  Icicles had formed while she was enjoying spiced cider by a crackling fire.  Still it was a wistfully quiet site.

When she finally reached her car, Julianne noticed it was the only one left in the lot – most people had not ventured out tonight.  Now she wished she’d been one of them.  Nervously, she hopped into the car to let it warm up a bit.  Four faces appeared faintly in her rearview mirror. 

Julianne’s chest tightened; she could feel her knees trembling.  Pregnancy was really messing with her head.  That fight or flight instinct kicked in – time to get the heck outta here.  She hit the gas pedal - too hard.  The wheels spun freely; spinning them faster didn’t create enough friction to melt the snow.  Her car was immobile – as was she!

More panicked now, her eyes stared forward in disbelief.  Closer now, the faces were those of four hooded, teenage boys.  Smiling!  Dressed like gang members.  Her heart almost stopped beating.  Hairs were prickling the nape of her neck.  Terror swelled inside her; she knew she was in serious trouble!

So stupid of her; parked in an isolated area late at night with no means of escape.  She fumbled for her cell phone, although her hands were shaking too hard to dial numbers anyway. They were coming to rob her . . . or worse!

One of them tapped on the window.  No way would she roll it down.  Her Guardian Angel whispered in her ear "It’ll be okay," but Julianne wasn’t believing it.  Bone chilled, breathless, wild with fear – she’d never felt this way before, and never would it happen again!  If she survived.

"Excuse me, Ma'am,” the boy yelled over the hum of the engine.  “Can we help you?  You seem stuck."

Still afraid and fearing the worst, Julianne said "I am stuck, and I’m not opening the door."

"It's okay, stay in your car and we'll push you out of the snow."  And so they did!

When they finally pushed her free, they smiled and waved.  She rolled down her window and thanked them.  She mentally swatted herself for being so paranoid, embarrassed to have judged them so poorly and knowing that when we judge others, we leave little room to love them.

 Jesus, help me to see, listen and experience with acceptance today; to hear what people are saying, and what the true intentions are, without judgment or fear.  Help me use the same gift for myself; to accept me as You do.  Amen