This Old Man

“Be joyful in hope, patient in times of trouble, faithful in prayer." ~ Romans 12:12

Early morning rush hour in NYC – there’s nothing like it.  It’s amazing the number of people that you see in one day.  Think about it: you share sidewalks, subways, elevators, movie theaters.  It’s astounding!  But few strangers touched me like the old man from Brooklyn.

I stared out the window lost in self-pity.  My hours had been cut at work; bills were piling up.  There wasn’t a day in the past few months that my wife and I hadn’t argued about finances or the stress of raising two teenagers.  Depression was clawing at me – I couldn’t think of one thing I was thankful for . . . until I met Art.

He rattled though the subway car, a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a portable oxygen tank in the other.  As usual, the car was packed so I offered him my seat.  Struggling to catch his breath, he fumbled with the tubing and managed a polite ‘thank you’ before sitting down. 

“Would you like some help?” I offered.

“No,” he said gulping air.  “I have to get used to this myself; there’s no one at home to help anymore!” 

“My name’s Marco,” I said, compassion washing over me. 

With eyes that seemed to sparkle he said “I’m Art!” The ensuing conversation went by too quickly.  I learned that Art fought in WWII fresh out of high school.  He best friend died in his arms from a land mine’s shrapnel.  He talked about coming home to his sweetheart and making a home with more love than money.  Their son, his pride and joy, was killed in Vietnam by a sniper’s bullet. 

I began to feel embarrassed about my own wallowing.  I hadn’t experienced a fraction of the tragedy that Art had.  I asked how he’d managed to cope with it all.

“Son,” he began gently, “Life’s a gift!  I had a childhood friend to grow up with, a woman to love, and a son to be proud of!  It’s the people in your life that make it worth living.  Make memories you’ll cherish to get you through the hard times.”

With that he handed me the flowers.  “I was going to give these to my wife,” he said, “but you’ve been a great listener.  I want you to have them.”  I thanked him and took the flowers.  He got off at the next stop outside the local cemetery, and headed in.

Returning home that evening, I pulled my wife into a gently embrace.  “Do you know how much I love you?” I asked.

What’s gotten into you?” she asked with a broad smile.

“A very wise man brought me to my senses today,” I said with a soft kiss.

Today Lord, I’m not asking for favors.  Today I thank You for giving me another day, another chance to become a better person, another chance to give and experience love, another opportunity to do it right.    Thank You Lord.

The Art of Forgiveness

“Forgive others because you love the Lord." ~ Matthew 6:14

The search had taken weeks to find the perfect ‘Y’ for his slingshot handle.  Every tree, shrub and bush had been carefully examined.  Tommy had finally selected an elderberry bush for the ‘crotch’ of his homemade weapon.  Some surgical tubing, a leather pouch to hold ammunition, a little practice and he was ready.

He’d gotten up early as usual to do his paper route.  After a quick Pop-Tart and a glass of chocolate milk, Tommy’s agenda had no further purpose other than to launch small stones at the pigeons perched atop Mrs. Winslow’s roof.  Must have been a great view he thought, because after the pesky birds scattered, they always returned to their same roost. 

Selecting the perfect stone, he loaded the slingshot and sent the small ‘warhead’ into orbit.  Tommy stood in disbelief as it headed straight for a small window on the old woman’s back porch.

At the sound of fractured glass, he ran from the yard at warp speed, too scared about getting caught to concern himself with Mrs. Winslow’s broken porch window.   Boy was he gonna get throttled by his Dad.

His ‘crime’ yet unsolved, Tommy started to feel guilty for her misfortune.  Mrs. Winslow, a loyal customer, still greeted him with a smile each day when he delivered her newspaper.  He was no longer able to relax in her presence; the shame was killing him!  So after weeks of saving his paper delivery money, Tommy finally had the $7 needed to replace her window.

He placed the money in an envelope with a note explaining how sorry he was for breaking her glass and hoped that the money would cover the repair costs.   He waited until dark, snuck up to Mrs. Winslow’s house and put the envelope through the letter slot in her door.  Tommy felt a rush of adrenalin flood through him knowing he’d done the right thing.  His soul redeemed, he couldn’t wait for the freedom to once again, look straight into the old woman’s eyes.

The next day, he joyfully returned the warm smile she offered when he delivered her newspaper.   "Here,” she said.  “I’d like you to have these."

It was a bag of cookies.  After thanking her, Tommy proceeded to eat the cookies as he continued on his route.  As he reached for the last of her tasty treats, Tommy felt an envelope . . . and pulled it from the bag.  Its contents left him speechless – seven one dollar bills and a short note that read, "I'm proud of you!"

Everybody makes mistakes, but only few realize, accept and make amends for them.  Accept an apology graciously and without conditions.  Respect their sincerity – it’s not easy to apologize.  Then most importantly – MOVE ON!

Dear God, thanks for sending Jesus to die on the cross so that I’m forgiven when I mess up.  Please help me to forgive other people ‘cause that’s not always easy and I’m not very good at it.  ~ Tommy

Cougar Courage

“Don’t be worried or afraid.  I give you a peace that this world can’t give." ~ John 14:27

Robert loved basketball.  Just two months ago he’d made Varsity and he couldn’t wait to don a ‘Cougar’ jersey.  Making the team was the single most exciting moment of his life.  He’d never imagined life without basketball . . . until the accident that stole his future.

It’d been nearly 6 weeks since the potentially fatal car crash that injured his spine - T8 to be exact.  Dr. Phelps said he was lucky; T8 paraplegics use manual wheelchair and drive cars with hand controls.  All Robby remembered was that his body was permanently paralyzed from the waist down.  Life sucked!

Coach Henderson had visited him in the hospital and asked Robby to consider remaining on the team as an assistant coach, statistician, water boy, wherever needed.  Robby hesitated at first; he hated pity.  So Coach upped the ante – he could suit up and join other teammates on the bench.

Fourteen games had gone by before Robby returned to the Cougars.  With less than a dozen games left, it was ‘crunch’ time for the 9-5 Cougars if they wanted a spot in the state tournament. 

When he wasn’t doing Coach’s errands, Robby shot free throws; hundreds of them every night.  He’d led the team in free-throws before the crash.  Some adjustments were needed as the injury had weakened his stomach muscles too.

Late in the final game of the season, and down by a single point the Cougar’s all-conference point guard stole the ball and drove to the basket on a breakaway.  Jack was chased from behind by an opponent whose clumsy attempt to swat the ball away, shoved Jack awkwardly into the wall behind the basket just as time expired.  A fractured left humerus meant Jack was in no condition to shoot free-throws.

Coach looked down the bench.  “Robby,” he shouted, “Get out there and win this one for us!”

Robby was stunned; he wasn’t mentally prepared, he hadn’t played in a real game since last year.  Now he was being called on to shoot the two most important shots of the season. 

Bu this whole ordeal was already making him a better person.  People might have cracked jokes about his place on the bench, but Robby had ignored them.  His disability gave him the ability face tougher challenges with poise and confidence.

It doesn’t matter how the game ended.  The real story is about a Coach whose belief in a young man empowered him to believe in himself. 

The Holy Spirit gives us power too.  Its presence in our lives pardons, perfects and converts us.  The Holy Spirit gives us peace – an everlasting peace that comes from being right with God.

Holy Spirit, grow within us and bless others through us.  Give us an inner peace that frees us from needing to prove ourselves and enables us to let go of the pride, prejudice, and hatred that destroys peace.  Amen

Heaven Sent

“Keep your mind on heavenly things, not earthly ones." ~ Colossians 3:2

Dawn came dimly to the north Wisconsin woods, muffled by a gray, woolen sky.  Old man Korn sat motionless on a tree stand amidst his sprawling property.  He’d hunted from this same spot for nearly five decades, capturing hundreds of game.  Today the biggest prize of his life found him!

Somehow in the bare branches of the old Sugar Maple, scarcely protected from the harsh November winds, two deflated pink balloons hung inches from his skull cap.  A tightly rolled note was attached by a bright red ribbon.  There was no “camouflaging” the burly woodsman’s tearful emotions after reading a child’s message written just three days earlier.

Dear God, Please take care of my dog Abby? She died yesterday and is with you now in heaven.  I miss her very much.  I am happy that you let me have her as my dog even when she got sick.  I hope you will play with her.  She likes to fetch balls and to swim.  I included a drawing of her so when you see her, you will know that she is my dog.  I really miss her.   Love, Meredith.

Addressed to God c/o Heaven, the letter had a return address from a location 50 miles or more from Korn’s place.

He returned home later that day, touched by his discovery and the heartfelt message it delivered.  He’d have to think carefully about how best to respond to a girl he’d never met. 

Two days later, a package addressed to Meredith lie on the family’s front porch.  Beneath the foil wrapping was a book written by Mister Rogers titled “When a Pet Dies.”   Her letter was taped inside its well-worn cover with this note in an unfamiliar script:

My dearest Meredith, Abby arrived safely in heaven.  I recognized her right away.  Having the picture was a big help.  She isn't sick anymore.  Her spirit is here with me just like it stays in your heart.

Abby loved being your dog.  Since we don't need our bodies in heaven, I don't have any pockets to keep your picture in, so I am sending it back to you in this little book for you to keep and have something to remember Abby by.

Thank you for the beautiful letter and thank your wonderful mother for helping you write it.  I picked her especially for you.  By the way, you don’t have to write, I'm always there whenever you need me.  I love you very much, God

Innocent words remind us all of the capacity of love, the magic of young friendships, but above all, what’s possible when you set your sights on the heavens.

There are rocky roads ahead of you and many hills to climb; but together we can do it one step at a time.  And when it's time for you to go . . . from your body to be free, remember you're not going . . . you're coming here to me. ~ God