They Knew

“Open your hearts and minds to the possibilities that exist within an infinite universe."  ~ Philippians 4:7

Francoise stared aimlessly at the rolling hills of her African paradise.  It wasn’t often that she found herself alone . . .  such was the case today.  She sat quietly, remembering her husband Lawrence and reminiscing about the life they had shared with herds of pachyderms on the Thula Game Preserve in South Africa.

Lawrence had abandoned a career in real estate to play Noah to the world’s endangered species.  When coalition forces invaded Iraq, Lawrence led the effort to restore Baghdad’s Zoo and instantly became an international hero.  His exploits to save rhinos from Congolese poachers bore testament to his passion for all God’s creatures.

But when asked to accept a herd of ‘rogue’ elephants at Thula (meaning place of peace), his common sense told him to refuse.  Dangerously unpredictable, they were notorious escape artists and their owners wanted to get rid of them fast. 

Sensing their certain death if not rescued, Lawrence accepted the ‘call.’ 

The elephants began arriving and immediately broke though the electric fences.  They hated humans.  Lawrence quickly found himself waging a battle for their survival . . . and their trust.

Despite their terrifying behavior, he decided to stay close to the giant ‘delinquents’ for as long as it took to gain their acceptance.  Seven days a week, 24 hours a day, he shared their enclosure, constantly patrolling the perimeter, talking and singing while they trumpeted, stomped, flapped their ears, and showed all the signs of elephantine discontent.

Exhausted from an atmosphere of anger and resentment, he took a break and went home.  Upon his return, a noticeable calm had taken its place.  Over time, a deep bond of affection developed between these unruly giants and the man who saved them.  Eventually they were released to the wild, grazing miles away in distant parts of the preserve.

Reality leaked back in.  Though he’d been deceased only three days, Francoise missed him terribly and wondered if they did too.

Then something extraordinary happened.  Two herds of African elephants slowly made their way single-file through the bush land in a solemn, almost ‘funeral-like' procession.  Francoise couldn’t remember when these giant beasts had last been near their house.

They knew!  They came today to pay their respects, honoring the human friend who'd worked tirelessly to save their lives years before.  Elephants have long been known to mourn their dead, proving once again that they never forget.

The elephants of Thula, who formed the funeral march to the Anthony’s house, stayed for two days and nights without food.  They silently left without fanfare, reminding us how to honor those who matter most to us.  Hamba kahle, Ndovu Mkhulu! (Be well, Great Elephant!)

If there ever were a time, when we can truly sense the amazing interconnectedness of all beings, it’s when we reflect on the elephants of Thula.  A man’s heart stops and hundreds of elephants grieve.  My God . . . Our God.

One Way Out

“Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved." ~ Romans 10:13

Gary wondered how his life had ever gotten this crazy.  He laid on the couch thinking through a list of possibilities, fighting off nausea while his heart pounded as if trying to destroy itself.

His first thought was to drive his rusted SUV off a bridge and drown himself.  The thought of not being able to breathe terrified him, which pretty much ruled out smothering too, using a plastic bag for example.

Jumping in front of a moving train might work.  But it’s messy, probably painful and a dreadful task for the people whose job it was to remove the carnage.

He couldn’t stomach the thought of twisting and thrashing after kicking a chair out from under himself.  He even considered sitting in a bathtub and slashing his throat, but with the first spurt of blood from his carotid artery, he’d want to change his mind and it would be too late.

As for carbon monoxide poisoning – too much time to reconsider.  Pills or poison?  Same thing!  If he chickened out and called 911, word would get around and he’d lose respect from everyone who knew him not to mention the liver damage he’d face.  He didn’t dare jump off a building.  With his luck, he’d survive and be mutilated beyond recognition.  Years of psychiatric counseling – no way!

Last on his list was his trusty Colt 45.  It would have to be a precise shot because the worst scenario was to end up paralyzed and brain damaged.  That’d really suck!  A bad job of shooting himself would leave him just enough awareness of why he wanted to off himself in the first place but helpless to do anything about it.

He loaded his gun and placed the cold steel in his mouth, careful to aim up at a 45 degree angle.  A soft point bullet through the cerebellum was his best chance at fatality.

His cell phone rang . . . and rang, in fact the damn thing wouldn’t stop ringing.  The caller-ID read 'Almighty God'.  Gary was afraid to answer – but even more afraid to pull the trigger.  He put his weapon down and returned the call.

A female voice answered: “Pastor Carrie, may I help you?”

“Uh, well, I . . .,” Gary’s confused, suicidal voice stammered.  “I believe you called me.  Did you say you were a Pastor?”

“Oh dear,” responded the kindly voice.  “My name is Carrie Dodd, and I’m the Pastor at “Almighty God Tabernacle.  As the kids say, I must have ‘butt-dialed’ you by mistake!  Please forgive me.”

“Actually,” Gary said, “it was NO mistake – you just saved my life!”

Friends, think of it this way: suicide only hurts the people who care about you.  Talk to a friend – wait for the next sunrise.

Lord Jesus, let nothing ever separate us from Your love.  Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow.  Shine Your light even in my darkest hour.  Amen

Chemo Warrior

“Those who love God are the ones chosen for His purpose." ~ Romans 8:28

I hate this!  There I said it; I just want my old life back.

Chemotherapy is not a word people want to hear; certainly never something they want to experience.  But, for those of us with stage IV breast cancer, we often don't have a choice. 

Today I’m getting my first chemo treatment.  I’m terrified.  How will the chemicals affect me?  Will I get sick?  How will I handle the pain in my joints?  Will I lose my beautiful curls?

My journey started when a routine exam revealed a lump on my right breast.  The cyst ended up being benign, but underneath the cyst was a malignant tumor.  Ugh!

Before cancer reared its ugly head in my life, I was an energetic woman.  At 57, I’m a trauma nurse in a very busy ER.  When my adult children finished college and moved out, my husband of 34 years and I moved to south Florida to enjoy kayaking, cycling, surfing and scuba diving.  I’ve always been active.

Now I'm lucky if I’ll have enough energy to go to the grocery store.  “Why me?”  “Why can’t I ever catch a break?” “Why is the universe still punishing me for giving Janie those chocolate-covered beetles bugs back in Kindergarten?”

I suppose it’s natural to get upset, frustrated, even angry.  I keep looking for someone to blame (the genes of my parents, a God who’s apparently forgotten me, the incompetent cab driver, the abysmal weather, anything!).  Despite the absurdity, I feel myself getting more agitated.  Perversely, I even start hoping things go horribly wrong, so I can justify this feeling of utter futility.

Then I remember all the women I’ve known who lost their battle with the big ‘C.”  But I’m still alive; I should be ashamed to even THINK this way . . . but I can't help it.  “Please God,” I pray,” Come closer now with Your comfort and peace.  I need You!  I need Your care and attention. Please be with me in the journey and where it’s Your will, bring healing to my body.”  

Just as Rachel was about to encase herself within a cocoon dripping with self-pity, a little bald headed girl no older than 6, snuck up behind her.  With a warm embrace she handed Rachel a Hershey’s Kiss.  She said with a friendly grin, “My Mom says we have to keep smiling.  Don’t forget, God loves you.”

Out of the mouth of babes!

He heard her prayer and answered by placing an angel in her path at precisely the right time.  It was a feel-sorry-for-herself kind of moment; Rachel just venting and being difficult.  So she turned her frown upside down by making a list of all the things that don’t suck about stupid cancer.

Lord Jesus, even when we seem to have nothing but regrets; horrible recollections of our poor choices, sins, mistakes, and failures, we're grateful for a God who repairs things, makes things better, transforms them.  Thank you.  Amen

 

 

Get Up and Prance

“You’ve been saved, not by your own doing, but by the grace of God."  ~ Ephesians 2:8-9

Unlike humans, horses sleep by many short rest periods, often while standing.  In fact, if a horse lies down for too long at one time, it can cause serious health problems, even death.  That’s why when Dusty laid down on the soft ground for a period much longer than a short nap, his friend Wilbur got worried.   

“Dusty!” the pig coaxed.  “You gotta get up!”  The Vet’s on her way with medicine.  If that doesn’t work, she’ll have to put you down.  Be strong, my friend!”

The Vet arrived with a bucket of pills just like Wilbur predicted.  “Your horse is very ill,” she told the owner.  “I brought some drugs to try, but if he’s not up by morning . . . well, unfortunately, you know the routine.”

Such a kind woman, thought Wilbur.  What a terrible job - to have to end such a magnificent animal’s life.  But clinically, with death knocking on the barn’s door, he reasoned that decisions were made in the horse’s best interest – to end the pain, the agony, the loss of freedom.

Wilbur returned to his side.  “Come on buddy, get up or else you're going to die!  I'll help you!” 

Dusty remained immobile.

Wilbur’s mood darkened.  He’d failed to notice the gradual time ticking while his friend had aged: his hollowed facial appearance, the graying around his eyes and ears, the “swaying” of his back.  He pushed the thought of death quickly aside as if by avoiding it, it simply wouldn’t happen.

All night he begged and pleaded for Dusty to get up, to show the vitality so much a part of his equine character.  If need be, he wanted to bury his comrade by the tree where they used to stand in the afternoon sun and spring rains.

The sun rose, but before he’d accept the inevitable, he prayed one last time. “Listen ol’ pal, it's now or never!  Get up, be brave!” 

Slowly the beast stirred.  “Come on buddy, that’s it,” encouraged Wilbur.  “Don’t stop now.” 

On all four legs now, Dusty took a few wobbly steps, then a slow trot and finally a powerful gallop. 

“You did it!” squealed Wilbur.  You’re a champion!!!

The owner rushed to the pasture, saw Dusty prancing playfully and shouted “It’s a miracle!  My horse is cured.  This deserves a party.  Let's roast the pig!”

And so it goes.  Sometimes, we really don’t know who’s actually responsible for our success; who deserves the credit, or who actually contributes the necessary support to make things happen. God does!  He values small tasks as if they were great and noble . . . when done in His name.

Father, no matter what I achieve, I owe my success to God-given talents, opportunities and people outside me.  Remind me that the minute I allow success to build a feeling of arrogance, I become vulnerable to making bad choices.  Amen

Reunited

“Those who are alone when they fall have no one to help them." ~ Ecclesiastes 4:10

Jordan cautiously opened the letter handwritten by an old friend’s mother.  She wrote that her daughter was dying of a terminal illness and wondered if Jordan might want to come visit her.

Years ago a nasty teen-aged fight ended their childhood friendship.  It was stupid; they were immature, but neither had made any attempt to patch things up.  It might be time.

Jordan boarded a plane the very next day.

As the aircraft soared above the clouds, youthful memories flooded back.  Chloe had left a footprint on Jordan’s heart.  “Would you like to come over and play with my new puppy?” was all it took to cement a bond that would last almost to high school graduation.

For a dozen years, the two were nearly inseparable.  They shared hopes, dreams, and fears without judging.  Chloe knew her every smile, laugh and cry for what it really meant.

It wasn’t all rainbows and butterflies though; they had their disagreements.  They’d bicker and use the silent treatment occasionally, but it never lasted very long.  Even then, their fights were infrequent.

Then came their senior year, and what amounted to nothing more than a misunderstanding.  Chloe asked for permission to date Jordan’s ex-boyfriend.  Jordan was furious; she still hurt from something he’d done.  “Chloe should’ve have had my back,” she thought.  That included the #1 BFF Rule: “Never Date Your Friend’s Ex.”

An argument ensued, feelings were injured, a bond was broken.

Jordan cried for much of the flight’s remainder and well into the taxi ride to the hospital.

She entered Chloe’s room in the ICU but wasn’t prepared for what confronted her – so many tubes and monitors.  She rushed to her old friend and apologized profusely.  Chloe interrupted her.  “It's all right my dear friend.  It was my fault.  You’re here – that’s all that counts now."

They spent the whole day together, reminiscing about childhood pranks, days of crying over boys, and zany memories from the beach house.  Jordan stayed with Chloe until she whispered her last words: "I love you so much Jordan!  I couldn't have asked for a better way to spend my last day on earth.  I thank God for You!"  

Jordan had almost waited too long to forgive her friend.  Have you been there?  If you’re human, you probably have. 

Among the other mistakes we make when we stuff ourselves inside a self-made god, is the assumption that forgiveness is ours to give.  But forgiveness, like life itself, doesn’t have our name inscribed on it.  It’s not our property, much less our tool or weapon.  It flows from the one true God through us by the Holy Spirit to others.

Lord, we have hearts like mules.  Sometimes, the very thing that we think will preserve us, destroys us.  Let your forgiveness wash over us and into others, so that, together, we discover what a joy it is to ‘bury the hatchet’ in an unmarked grave.  Amen