Grateful Inconvenience

“Give thanks to the Lord for He is great; His love endures forever." ~ 1 Chronicles 16:34

The ride from Boston to NYC was anything but predictable … or relaxing.  Worst of all, Penny (her vintage Honda Civic) finally died; the bus was her least expensive option.  It made 8 stops inching through a myriad of road construction sites and an accident that snarled traffic for miles.

Sadie passed the time by commiserating with a stranger.  Actually, she killed time by complaining.  An older gentleman in a well-worn porkpie hat whose blue eyes were famed by thick white eyebrows, rarely spoke.  If Sadie had only taken the time to notice, the map of wrinkles on his face told quite a story.

His eye lines told of warm smiles and affection.  His forehead told of worries past and present.  But mostly they were so deeply deep-seated they told of a man who had travelled through eight decades to that moment; beaten and forlorn.  But Sadie was too crabby to notice.

When her pontificating had finally run its course, she turned to the old man and asked, "Where’re you headed?"

"Long story," he replied, then told her the short version.  It involved losing half of his four children in a house fire, many years of painful plastic and reconstructive surgeries for the remaining two, and the recent terminal cancer diagnosis for his wife of nearly sixty years.

He concluded by saying, "I'd like to be able to look in the rear-view mirror on all that, but since I can't, I count my blessings."  He smiled a genuine smile.

Sadie nodded, said something like, "That's a lot to deal with!" and told him of her own family's difficulties.

His eyes softened. "You can only play the hand you're dealt," he said, kindly, "And it sounds like you're doing the best you can.  God bless you."

By the time Sadie finally arrived home she never wanted to sit down again.  For all the backache, she was mindful of the fact that the worst she'd had to deal with was inconvenience.

For the first time in her life, she understood the meaning of the timeworn cliché, “Thank God.”

She'd had three extra hours robbed from her day.  But bus’s tire hadn't blown, they hadn't been in the 5-car pile-up, and she’d met a wonderful man whose faith inspired her.  She had more to be thankful for … than to grumble about.  Stretching her cranky muscles, she offered up a heartfelt prayer of thanks.

Then she hugged each member of her family and sat down and enjoyed a cup of tea.  When slumber finally beckoned, she closed her eyes, thanked her Lord again (below), grateful for the inconvenience of her day.

“Thank You God, for giving me another chance to become a better person, another chance to experience love.  Thank You for giving me health, for the food You provide, for the awareness You’ve awoken in me.  Make me a channel of Your energy and help me understand more, listen better, and love without prejudice.  Amen”

No Small Gesture

“Let hope keep you joyful, be patient in your troubles, and pray at all times." ~ Romans 12:12

Cassie took her young daughter to the ER that morning with a 104.5^o fever - the culmination of two months of vague symptoms without a clear diagnosis: occasional bellyaches, frequent fevers, constant joint pains.

The doctor, a forty-something woman with a warm smile and a kind face, took blood for testing and noted that Riley’s liver felt enlarged.  She ordered X-rays and an ultrasound.

When the same doctor entered their exam room forty-five minutes later, her smile had vanished.  She met Cassie’s eyes first, then glanced down at Riley who was clutching the tiny stuffed puppy she’d been given by the X-ray Tech as a reward for being brave.  Something was definitely wrong.

A nurse asked Riley, “Do you want to come with me and play with some Legos, sweetheart?” and led her away.

The doctor closed the door.  “Her blood work is very concerning,” she’d said.  “I know this is a hard word to hear, but I’m 99.9% certain we’re looking at some sort of blood cancer.”

Two days later an oncologist would confirm the horrifying news.  He explained the disease and said that for the next 3 years Riley would receive spinal taps, injections and oral doses of radical chemotherapy – just enough poison to kill her Leukemia.

Cassie remembered few details from that moment; time spiraled into a dark abyss of fear and anxiety.  She realized the enemy her 5-year-old faced was much more than a silly cold.  As a single Mom, how could she ever face this battle alone?  She cried silently for a minute; then collected herself as an orderly entered the room with a bouquet of beautiful flowers.

Cassie read a card from her best friend Emily.  How sweet she thought!

Then she noticed a second card attached.  It read:

“Dear Mrs. Bradley, I took your order at DesignWorks florist.  My seven year-old had leukemia many years ago.  He’s fine now and a healthy young adult.   Treatment has improved so much since then as well.  Good luck.  My prayers will be for you and Riley as you face the challenges ahead.  Shalom, Laura."

For the first time, she felt her worries relax and her spirit soar.  They were in a hospital filled with sophisticated medical equipment and technology.  Riley was being treated by some of the best doctors and nurses on the planet.  But it was a stranger in a flower shop that shared her compassion and gave Cassie the hope to carry on.

Christians know that Christ brings hope to those who believe.  He’s a bright star in a sometimes desperately bleak universe.  He brightens our inner selves with the promise that smiling and laughter are just around the corner.

“My child, you are as you need to be, born with the exact talents this world needs.  You are pure of heart, strong of spirit and brave.  Whatever your talent is, use it for love, peace and healing.  Know that I love you, no matter what." ~ Jesus

That's What Dad's Do

“Make your Dad truly happy by living right and showing sound judgment." ~ Proverbs 23:24

As a general rule, Travis kept his emotions to himself.  He figured they were clues he'd rather not share.  But today was different.  Excitement wired his body like being plugged directly into the main; his brain fast-forwarding with no ‘off’ switch.

After months of studying, practicing, and spending barrels of money, he’d earned his Private Pilot License - a little piece of plastic that allows you to fly legally. Today he’d take his first flight with a passenger – his Dad.

After pre-flighting 1684W and adding a quart of oil, Travis returned to the FBO dripping with sweat and exhausted from stress.  He gave his Dad the full passenger briefing; weather briefing, seatbelts, doors, what to do in an emergency, keeping an eye for traffic, sterile cockpit limitations, and what to listen for on the radio.  Then they hopped in, strapped up, started the engine, and taxied for their run-up.

“Let’s make this bird soar,” he said, lacking the bravado he’d hoped to muster.

The little Cessna took off into the wind and climbed to 1,500 feet staying below some scattered clouds.  As he’d been instructed, Travis talked incessantly; telling Dad what he was doing, what he was about to do and why he did it.  Banter not only helped calm his nerves but, as a new pilot, it solidified the processes he learned in training.

Dad remained very quiet.  Trying perhaps, not to disturb the pilot or maybe just blissfully unaware, Travis speculated.

He coaxed the plane higher seeking smoother, cooler air above the low scattered layer.  They’d just leveled off at 4,500’ when Dad finally spoke: “OK, we can land now.”

Travis’ jaw dropped faster than a loaf removed from an oven too soon.  He’d planned to circle the Detroit skyline before returning to City airport.   He calmly reminded his father of that.  But he’d never forget what his father said more than 30 years ago.

“I’m terrified of small planes,” he said with eyes as wide as if someone was coming to deliver the fatal blow.  “I just wanted you to know that I have confidence in you, son!”

That’s what Dads do!  The best ones bolster our confidence!

And so much more.  From changing diapers and cleaning up vomit to helping with homework and having heartfelt conversations with teenagers, real Dads today are all-in.

They teach life’s lessons by example.  They share their faith with us, tell great stories, and carry us with strong arms and such a warm touch.   They spend time, not money - because they know what really matters to kids.  He treats his children like the adults he wants them to become.  And when there is nothing else left, he still loves us no matter what.

Heavenly Father, thank You for guiding me, forgiving me, and loving me.  And thank You for my own Dad – his work ethic, the way he shared his faith and for his rock-solid integrity.  Amen

Hatred is Weakness

“Suffering builds character, which gives us a hope. Romans 5:3-4

It was the call no one should ever have to make – the call to a close friend at work announcing that his wife had been killed by a teenage girl on the way to school.  Probably distracted, died at the scene, police investigating, manslaughter charges pending.

The news passed through Anton like a hurricane.  Everything they’d worked and struggled for suddenly lay in ruins.  His heart nearly stopped beating as he fought the mind-numbing fog about to consume him.

“How is the girl?” Anton asked.  “Was she hurt too?"  Jamal couldn't believe his friend’s first response to such devastating news was concern for the girl.  “Ask her if it’d be OK for me to stop by later this week and talk with her.”

Darcy wanted to decline but knew she couldn't.  He needed to get it off his chest, she reasoned.  Terrified, she reluctantly agreed to meet Anton.

Anton greeted a girl of eighteen, maybe less, who averted his gaze.  Darcy’s handshake was delicate and clammy; her eyes were wide as if someone was coming to deliver a fatal blow.

The burly, middle-aged man stepped toward the girl, not with bitterness in his eyes, but with arms outstretched, scooping her up in a warm embrace.

Tears that she’d been fighting back began flowing freely onto his flannel shirt.  Darcy couldn’t stop repeating, "I'm so sorry.  I'm so sorry."  Once she regained her composure, Anton motioned her to a window seat and began telling Darcy things he wanted her to know about his wife Rachel’s life.

"There was no limit to how much she loved the Lord," Anton began. "She enjoyed a close, intimate walk with God.  She lived every day as if it could be her last on Earth, and never left the house on her morning ride without hugging me as if she might be saying goodbye for the last time."

Anton had her full attention as he continued. "Darcy, even though this caught us all by surprise, it was no surprise to God.  He also knows that you’re strong enough to handle this.  You can't let this ruin your life.  He wants to use you for His glory; to love Jesus without limits, just like Rachel did."

“I asked the DA drop all charges against you without a trial.  What would be the purpose of making your life more miserable?"

Darcy kept waiting for Anton to dish out some reprimand, but none came.  His mercy - along with his challenge to her that night, would comfort her for years to come.  God took that horrific event and turned it into something beautiful.

Darcy gradually went from feeling "guilty” to feeling "chosen."  She chose to carryon Rachel’s legacy of being a godly woman who loved Jesus beyond measure with her own life.

God of Forgiveness, bitterness is the poison we swallow, hoping the other person dies.  Release this terrible burden by experiencing the cleansing power of forgiveness even though I hate what they did. Amen

Who Rescued Who?

“God works for the good of those who love Him." ~ Romans 8:28

The image of a taupe-colored puppy on an exam table, emaciated and covered in scabs, was almost too horrible to comprehend.  She’d likely been caged, neglected, and starved to near death.  The animal rescue group gave her less than 1% chance of surviving the night.

Miraculously, with fluids, nutrition, and an urgent visit to the vet, the puppy began to perk up.  Her rapid recovery prompted the rescue team to dub her “Xena the Warrior Puppy.”  They even started a Facebook page showing her amazing recovery that quickly gained 9,000 followers.

Linda Hickey, one such admirer, fell in love with the wounded Warrior.  She checked the Facebook page several times a day, praying for her health and a speedy recovery.  It kept her mind off the challenges her own family faced.

Their 8-year old son Johnny had been diagnosed as autistic.  He read with proficiency, but autism left him alone and isolated.  Most of his social interactions were painfully awkward; unfamiliar situations often triggered terror, tantrums or both.  Seeking comfort and predictability, he’d embrace solitary activities like playing with marbles or coloring in silence.  They’d run out of ideas on how to reach him.

Linda talked to God often about Johnny.  Xena had been given almost no chance of surviving, yet she was thriving.  A warrior, all right!  Linda wasn’t holding out for something that miraculous for her son Johnny, but maybe there was hope for him yet.  God always has a plan.

So when the opportunity to meet Xena at rescue fundraiser presented itself, Linda took the family to meet her in person.  The dog spotted Johnny and approached the normally-reticent young boy.  To Linda’s surprise, Johnny smiled widely, then melted in the onslaught of unconditional affection.  The Warrior Pup became a permanent part of Linda’s family that same day.

Since then Johnny hasn’t stopped talking.  He talks to Xena all the way home from school, during homework and afterwards he plays with her until dinner.   According to his mom, “Xena helped Johnny come out of his shell; he’s never been happier.”

Xena helps Johnny in other ways too.  He’s always struggled with personal-space issues, but he’s fine with letting Xena lean on him, lie down on him and perch precariously on his lap.  It doesn’t matter that she weighs almost as much as he does.  And despite his phobia of touching food, Johnny prepares dinner for Xena every night.

While the Hickeys are more hopeful now than they’ve ever been about Jonny’s future, they find it best to focus on the day they’re living, and possibly the day after that.  “God had a plan,” Linda said.  “These two were destined to be together - to rescue each other at a level that humans simply can’t fully understand.”

Lord, let me do my very best to honor You in everything I do.  Help me to understand and carry out the perfect plan You have for my life.  Amen

Never Again

“Jesus said, Father, forgive these people.” ~ Luke 23:34

Pvt. Brian Engelhard, 3d U.S. Infantry Regiment, surveyed the scene before him with what combat veterans describe as the thousand-yard stare; a gaze that says he’s seen the horrors of war and will never forget them.

A vast sea of white lay before him as if someone had planted the seeds for the garden of stone before him.  He wondered how many, knowing that the true answer was “too many.”

Trudging across the marble field, he stopped at each headstone and placed a flag one in front of each marker.  He read each name and calculated every age.  He realized that every person was too young to be here; every soul cut down in its prime.

Silent and respectful of the sacrifices of those just below his feet he soldiered on, determined to complete his mission before nightfall.  The mournful sound of taps from across the field brought him to knees.  “Forgiving Lord,” he began with this heartfelt prayer:

“There has to be a better way to solve the world's problems.  Sadly after the WWII – the ‘War to End All Wars’ - there was Korea, then Vietnam, and ever more wars.  I pray now, that we stop adding young men and women to this cemetery.

After I returned home from serving my country, I trashed everything that had anything to do with the military.  I got rid of pictures, my uniform and those medals.  In that way, I expressed my determination never again to fight in a war.

I wish I could bring back the people I know I killed, but I can’t.  And I imagine every murderer feels the same way.  I visit men in prison now, and when I hear their stories, I tell them that without God’s forgiveness, I’m no different than any other murderer.

We wish we could bring our victims back to life and ask their forgiveness.  But we’re not in that position, and so we simply have to accept Your forgiveness.  Thank you Lord, Amen.”

Pvt. Engelhard struggled to his feet and continued putting more flags in front of the headstones.  By the grace of God, he’d found peace by confessing the things that had burdened him.  He still regrets the past and will forever feel it’s torment.   But God’s mercy had provided closure on the sins of war; they no longer had power over him.

When we think of the pain so many veterans suffer evidenced by the troubling rates of suicide, homelessness, mental illness and drug abuse, we should think of Jesus, who was mocked and whipped, cursed and nailed to a cross.  We should remember his words as he hung dying: “Father, forgive these people.”  Let’s each face our own guilt and brokenness and allow ourselves to be converted and healed.

Father, as we remember our veterans this year, help us acknowledge the lasting pain so many carry.  Forgive us - for being indifferent to their anguish, too self-concerned to share their burden, or unwilling to listen when their ghosts surface?  Amen