When calamity comes, the wicked
are brought down, but even in death the righteous
have a refuge.
--Proverbs 14:32
Wisdom
of the Ages You
could call God's hand on you "the touch of
greatness." You do not become great; He becomes
great through you.
--Bruce
Wilkinson, The Prayer of Jabez
A
Life Question
If I knew I would die
tonight, what would I be doing right now? Why am
I waiting?
Want to invite a friend?
A
Stop on the Road of Life
With
three kids, a business, a husband with a business,
a house, a yard, and two very close extended families,
my time is at a premium. This means I'm usually
running as fast as I can to keep up with everything-and
sometimes failing miserably in that endeavor. Recently
I was caught between two major obligations, driving
from one to the other, and late again.
In my
mind I was ticking off all that had to be done when
I got home: make supper, give the kids a bath, help
with homework, straighten the house, lay out clothes
for the morning… when suddenly the pickup in
front of me put on his blinker and veered over to
the empty lane beside us. I hit the brakes and then
realized why he had stopped. A funeral procession.
Instantly
although my first thought was, "Oh, no! I don't
have time for this!" I, too pulled to the side
of the road, turned off my radio and stopped just
as the policeman and the hearse passed. I looked
beyond them to see how many cars with lights there
were and realized I was going to be there for a
while.
Turns
out, I had no idea how long "a while"
would be. Because the procession was coming around
a corner up the road, I couldn't actually see the
whole thing, which could easily have been 200 cars
or more. Nonetheless, as I sat there in silence,
perspective began to fall around me. Here we on
this side of the road were, living our lives, driving
in the fast lane to get what we had to get done,
seeming to have no time as it was, but when we needed
to-out of courtesy or obligation-we stopped.
Life
stopped so that we could all take a moment to recognize
not only the grief of one family, but so that we
could recognize that we, too, will one day be at
the head of that funeral procession.
See,
death and 24-hours, are the two great equalizers
in this lifetime. We each have 24-hours to live
our lives each day. You cannot buy more time. You
cannot will more time. You cannot even strong-arm
more time. You and the wino on the street have exactly
the same amount of hours in every day. The only
difference is in how you choose to use that time.
However, here is a sobering thought-you and the
greatest doctor on the earth also have the same
number of hours in each day. He has used his brilliantly.
How have you used yours?
Death
is our other greatest equalizer. No matter who you
are, where you are from, who you know, or how much
money you have, one day you, too, will be laid out
and leading that procession. The question is, how
long will your procession be?
As I
watched this person's procession, it became clear
how this person had chosen to use those 24-hours
a day that God had granted. Well. Very, very well
indeed. The cars just kept coming and kept coming,
rounding that bend and lining up until there was
a mile or more of them, and they were still coming.
For one
moment that day I stopped on my harried trek through
life to really consider where I'm going on this
road we call life, what it all means, and whether
or not I'm headed in the direction that I want to
end up. Truth is, it was well worth the stop.
Many
years ago, I learned what kind of people my parents are.
I remember that day so well even though in point of fact
I was 75 miles away at college. It started with the unthinkable--a
neighbor's dairy barn burned to the ground in the early
morning hours. By the time the fire department got there,
it was a total loss.
Now
having grown up on a dairy myself and because one of the
sons of this unfortunate farmer was one of my best friends
in high school, I knew how dire this situation was immediately.
Cows can't "just wait." If they do, they first
get very sick, then their milk supply goes dry, and in a
heartbeat you could very well lose not just the barn but
all the cows as well.
My
parents' family-owned dairy rested about 5 miles as the
crow flies from the barn that burned down. As soon as the
news reached them, my father instantly called the farmer
and said, "Alvin, bring your cows over here. We can
share my barn." Alvin, being one who didn't want to
take advantage of anyone, said, "We can't do that.
You've got your own operation. How will we ever make that
work?" "We'll make it work. Bring them over."
And
so began the biggest cattle drive in modern Nazareth history.
By early afternoon residents had come to my parents' farm
and built temporary pens, gotten a water supply out to the
new pen, and driven the cattle over. By nightfall both herds
were being milked in the same facility. That meant the dairy
barn was operational 23 hours a day. Two in the afternoon,
two in the morning, someone was out there milking.
I
know it wasn't easy. It meant working around someone else's
schedule and someone else's plans. It meant putting themselves
at the mercy of when the new barn would be constructed and
what do we do if it snows? Through it all the milking continued
right through Christmas. Then in what now seems like a blink,
the barn was ready, and the cows were moved back, and thus
ended the greatest lesson in you-just-help-if-they-need-help
I've ever gotten.
This
past weekend, the man on the other side of that lesson passed
away. Getting on in years and not in the best of health,
he went to a better place than this old world. However,
unfortunately I'm sure he has no idea what he taught me
during that incident. I never had the opportunity or the
courage while he was here to tell him. I regret that now.
I wish I could've found the words or the way to tell him
because I know he thought it made him look weak and needy.
It didn't. It made him look human and very, very smart to
have made such great connections BEFORE he needed them.
Unlike
the foolish farmer Jesus refers to in the Gospels who couldn't
fit his grain in his barns so he built bigger barns to hord
what he had, this man built the connections he would need
long before he needed them--and at the risk of never needing
them as much as he did. He was wise beyond what most are
in today's "I'll be your friend as long as it benefits
me, but as soon as I don't need you, I'm gone" world.
And so he taught me that as well. I never told him how much
those lessons impacted me, and now it's too late.
I
can only hope that wherever he is in Heaven, he's looking
down and reading this. You see, my parents taught me that
you help, but he taught me that sometimes no matter how
strong we are, we all need help. And sometimes by accepting
that help, we allow blessings to come to others. I know
that most people in Nazareth will remember that day for
many years to come. I also know that many learned the same
lessons I did that day.
So,
Alvin, whereever you are, thanks for taking us all a bit
closer to Heaven that day. I just hope that all of us will
realize that helping each other is why we're here. And when
we help, we all get to be a little closer to Heaven. May
you rest in peace.
Continuing...
Princess
All subscribers to "On Our Journey Home"
are treated to reading a whole book by Staci just
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The latest cyber-serial, "Princess" began
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The Long Way Home is a warm, moving, touching story.
The blossoming love and relationship between Jaxton and
his grandfather will grip your heart. And the alternating
sparks and tenderness that exist between Ami and Jaxton
is fun.
Yet, through it all, there is more to this story than
a tender romance and a renewed family connection. Staci
Stallings writes with a depth of emotion and understanding
of what it means to BE a family and part of a community.
The dialog is brisk and snappy, the characters believable
and human, with an underlay of sadness for poor choices
made long ago.
I highly recommend The Long Way Home. As Staci says -
"You'll feel better for the experience!"
Read the first Chapter...
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