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Submitted by our Seminarian, Mukesh
Silently
the work of the Spirit is done.
Already Love is drawing others to you.
Take all who come as sent by me, and give them a royal
welcome. It will
surprise you, all what I have planned for you.
Welcome all who come with the love of your hearts.
You may not see the work.
Today they may not need you.
Tomorrow they may need you.
I may send you strange visitors.
Make each desire to return.
Nobody must come and feel unwanted.
Share your love, your joy, your happiness, your time, and
your food, gladly with all. Such
wonders will unfold. You
see it all but in bud now---the glory of the open flower is beyond
all your telling. Love,
Joy, Peace, in richest abundance—only believe.
Give out Love and all you can with a glad free heart and
hand. Use all you can
for others, and back will come such countless stores and
blessings.
(Taken from God is Calling by A.J. Russell)
Amid grief comes the whisper of
One who says, ‘I will never leave you’
By David
L. Miller
Dozens
of deaths a day greet you in the morning paper. Then the phone
rings, and you hear your daughter's tears — and it gets
personal. Soon you are kneeling at the casket of a man you did not
know, crying your thanks to God for the gifts of grace and the
richness of affection he brought to your life, though he never
knew it.
 The
man's name was Antonio. He woke to life under the spring sun of
central Mexico nearly 76 years ago. I met him once. But as I study
the still contour of his face, I realize I knew him far better
than I'd thought.
He lives in his son, Armando, a young man whose gentle spirit I
greatly admire, a man who loves my daughter, Rachel, as much as I
do, if such things can be measured. But today it is grief, not
love, we must fathom. Last words must be remembered and spoken.
The day before he died, Antonio ended his conversation with
Armando as he always did, "God bless you. God protect
you," an unknowing final blessing of a father for his son.
The words echo as last words, the final summing up of a beloved
voice.
Rachel looks at the casket and buries her face in my chest.
"Don't you ever leave me," she weeps. And I am lost, for
I will likely leave her. One day I will be the cause of her tears.
And I choke on whatever inadequate words I thought to speak. I can
promise nothing to stop her tears — or mine.
Still, I believe Antonio, rosary in hand, hat at his side,
lives in God's glory just as surely as I believe something of his
spirit lives yet in Armando. But where can we find Easter amid
whispered prayers and weeping in a funeral home on Kedzie Avenue?
Easter seems a long way off when you stand before the casket of
a life you have loved. But when I listen carefully I hear the
risen Jesus approaching, even here.
Our love has an unconditioned character as we hold and comfort
each other. This is not a love that denies pain or flees sorrow.
No, it stands and stays and enfolds us. And in our embrace, I feel
eternal arms and hear the whisper of the One who says, "I
will never leave or forsake you. I will come to you."
Sorrow forces a shattering "no" from our hearts when
we lose a life we treasure: "No! This is not right! Life must
be more than this. The beauty, wonder and struggle of a precious
life cannot end in dust and tears."
Our protesting spirits release the cry of God's living Spirit,
demanding the fulfillment of God's promise. The Spirit of Life
cries out, "No! Death shall not have him. As I live, he shall
live also."
And what of our words of pain and love that we typically are
too embarrassed to express? So strangely this release drains our
tears and lifts our souls. Certainly, our willingness to have our
hearts broken open by grief shares in the mystery of the life of
Jesus, who lovingly let go of his life to be broken and destroyed
— only to be raised by God's love into something utterly new.
Even our tears speak of resurrection.They share the sorrow of
the Spirit who hovers over Kedzie Avenue and all the Earth,
refusing to rest until "all things are made new" and
death is swallowed by an incomprehensible love.
And finally, there's Antonio's blessing, "God bless you.
God protect you." Surely it points to the One who is
eternally present, the friend of the sparrow who gazes upon every
moment at once.
His blessing reveals a God who has conquered time, a God to
whom everything lives in an everlasting present. Nothing escapes
the unblinking compassion of God, not Antonio, not this time, not
these tears, nothing.
As we hold each other, faithful to the cheerless demands of the
hour, the power of the Resurrection touches us. We glimpse,
however dimly, "what no eye has seen, nor ear heard"(1
Corinthians 2:9).
And Easter comes, even on Kedzie.
"From the April 2002 issue of The Lutheran, (c) 2002
Augsburg Fortress. Used by
permission. www.thelutheran.org"
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Life
On The Rocks
In the book of Exodus, chapter 17,
the people started
complaining to Moses, “Give
us some water!”
Moses replied, “Why are you complaining to me and trying to put the
Lord to the test?” But the people were thirsty and kept on
complaining, “Moses, did you bring us out of Egypt just to let
us and our families and our animals die of thirst?”
Then Moses prayed to the Lord, “What am I going to do with these
people? They are about to stone me to death!”
The Lord answered,”… when you get to the rock at Mount Sinai, I will
be there with you. Strike the rock with the stick, and water will
pour out for the people to drink.”
The people had complained and tested the Lord by asking, “Is the Lord
really with us?” So Moses named that place Massah, which means
“testing” and Meribah, which means “complaining.”
In a similar passage in Numbers,
chapter 20, it says: The
Israelites had no water, so they went to Moses and Aaron and
complained, “Moses, we’d be better off if we had died along
with the others in front of the Lord’s sacred tent. You brought
us into this desert, and now we and our livestock are going to
die! Egypt was better than this horrible place. At least there we
had grain and figs and grapevines and pomegranates. But now we
don’t even have any water.”
Once again, the Lord instructs
Moses to strike the rock with his walking stick and water gushed
forth from the rock.
Poor Moses, here he is trying to
lead the people to the Promised Land and all they do is complain.
In the midst of difficulty aren’t we often like that? I know I
am! The question is: Will we be Meribah (complaining) people, or
will we be people of Living Water?
Charles Schulz has a Peanuts
cartoon which relates to these scripture readings. In the
first frame Charlie Brown says to Snoopy, don’t go near that
house today! Lucy’s having a “crab-in.” Snoopy , having a
different view of the problem, knocks on the door. In the next
frame Lucy answers the door and Snoopy promptly plants a big kiss
on her nose. Finally, Snoopy departs satisfied and says, that’s
how you break up a “crab-in”!
I’d like you to keep that
cartoon in mind, as we will return to it later.
At the moment, let’s
explore some of the reasons why we complain. We’re frustrated,
we want attention, we don’t like being in the dark; that is, not
knowing the outcome of a situation. We’re afraid and we don’t
like waiting.
In the book by John Ortberg
entitled If You Want to Walk
on Water, You’ve Got to Get Out of the Boat, he quotes
comedian Dave Barry on the subject of fear: “All
of us are born with a set of instinctive fears: of falling, of the
dark, of lobsters, of falling on lobsters in the dark, of speaking
before a Rotary Club, and of the words:’some assembly
required.’”
We live in an age of instant
gratification and find it very frustrating to wait for an answer
to appear in the midst of tribulation. Microwave cooking and high
speed computers have conditioned us to want the answer NOW. Robert
Levine in “A Geography of
Time” says we have invented a new unit of time called the
honko-second. It is the time between when the light changes and
the person behind you honks his horn. It is the smallest measure
of time known to science.
So, how do we attempt to overcome
these tendencies to complain when the going gets rough and to
desire instant responses? Whenever a ballplayer acts up on the
field at Waterfront Park, my friend Jim says, “that guy needs an
attitude adjustment.” Let’s now explore some ways by which we
can adjust from being “Meribah people” to become “people of
Living Water.”
All of us have had rocks in our
life; obstacles or situations that have prevented us from being
the persons God really wants us to be. How can we draw water from
these rocks? I’d like to explore that from a corporate
level—how we as a people can get stuck and unstuck— and from a
personal level using an illustration from my own life.
The events of September 11 were
more than enough to plunge us into an atmosphere of despair. If
all we did was focus on the horror, we would soon embrace an
attitude of hopelessness. I have chosen never to separate the
secular from the spiritual, but rather, to weave them together as
one. And so, God spoke clearly to me in an article I read in Outdoor
Photographer magazine.
My favorite columnist, Dewitt
Jones, had an article in the March issue entitled Real Power. In this article he states that Helen Keller was once
asked if there were anything worse than losing your sight. Her
response was, “yes, losing your vision!”
How can we maintain our vision when the world about us
seems to be crumbling, literally and figuratively, before our
eyes? Let us not forget what Jesus says in John 10: 10—“Evil
comes to rob, kill and destroy; but I came that you may have life
and have it abundantly.”
Jones goes on to say that his
vision has always been to Celebrate What’s Right With The World.
He states: “In the days
after September 11, I began to realize that the real power of
Celebrate What’s Right With The World has to do with energy.
Concentrating on what was wrong with a given situation or
photograph not only makes it a lot bleaker than it is, it also
drains away my drive and enthusiasm to fix it. On the other hand,
to Celebrate What’s Right with the situation connects me with
the energy I need to make it better. —It’s a vision that puts
my world into a more balanced perspective. Not a perspective that
denies the real pain and terror and suffering that exist on this
planet. But one that puts those problems into a larger context. A
context where I still can fill with gratitude for all that I’ve
been given. A context where I can still find hope in all the
possibilities yet to be explored.”
Continuing, Jones says: “The
very act of photographing gave me reason for joy, and soon I could
hear every rock, every cloud, every blade of grass whispering
quietly of celebration. The trees had not been silent. I had just
stopped listening.”
As a people and as individuals, we
must maintain our focus on our source of energy—God who,
throughout history, has drawn Living Water from the Rock.
In my own life I can point to an
experience I had which culminated in January of 1997. I had to put
my mother in a nursing home in June of 1996, my employment
situation was taking a major turn that fall, and my friend Kathy
Fitton died of cancer in November. Kathy and I entered the
classroom at Notre Dame High School in September of 1960; she as a
student and I as a teacher. Our paths diverged until we met again
many years later; she as my superintendent and I as the teacher.
We renewed our friendship that
endured until her death. I have never been one to visit a grave,
but I was drawn to Kathy’s grave three times between
Thanksgiving and Christmas in 1996. Each time I prayed and each
time I had the overwhelming feeling that I also had cancer. In
January I was screened at Pennsylvania Hospital and, sure enough,
cancer was a distinct possibility. It was confirmed a week later.
Was I angry? Did I complain? You bet! I used every choice word I
had ever overheard in our high school’s halls.
My constant question was,
“Why?” How could God let this happen? This wasn’t just a
rock; it was a huge boulder. Finally, after going to God in
prayer, I realized the real question was not why; but rather why
not? Why was I so different from countless others who had a
similar diagnosis? As I regained my vision, it became apparent
that good would come forth. This experience enabled me to meet
Matt Kirkland, my surgeon, who saved my life a second time the
following year in dealing with a rare condition unrelated to the
cancer. January of ‘97 changed my focus so that I reordered my
life’s priorities and retired two years earlier than
anticipated. It allowed me to meet some of the most wonderful
people I had ever known and to experience their goodness. God drew
water from the rock!
I’ve been reading a Lenten
series by a Franciscan, Richard Rohr. He has entitled the series
Liminal Space. Limina is
a Latin word that means threshold. It is a special place where
real transformation happens. It is when we are betwixt and
between, not in control. None of us enjoys being there. It is a
most unsettling place. However, it is the place where the Holy
Spirit can work in our lives if we are open to the adventure.
In Romans 5, 3-5 Paul writes, “We
gladly suffer because we know that suffering helps us to endure.
And endurance builds character, which gives us a hope that will
never disappoint us. All of this happens because God has given us
the Holy Spirit, who fills our hearts with his love.”
And how are we to focus on and
connect with this energy? The Divine Energy has been promised us
in the person of the Holy Spirit. In John 14, 16-18, 21, Jesus
says to his disciples: Then
I will ask the Father to send you the Holy Spirit who will help
you and always be with you. The Spirit will show you what is true.
The people of this world cannot accept the Spirit, because they
don’t see or know him. But you know the Spirit, who is with you
and will keep on living in you.
I won’t leave you like orphans. I will come back to you.
…If you love me, you will do what I have said, and my
Father will love you. I will also love you and show you what I am
like.”
The difference between living
water and stagnant water is that living water is connected to its
source; while stagnant water is not and so it becomes foul. At
Ascension we can connect with our source, the Holy Spirit, through
prayer and by coming together as a community in order to minister
to one another.
In today’s gospel, John 4:11,
13-14, the woman at the well asks: “Where
do you get that living water? …Jesus said to her, “Everyone
who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but those who
drink of the water that I will give them will never be thirsty.
The water that I will give will become in them a spring of water
gushing up to eternal life.”
When we are tempted to be a
complaining people, let’s return to the lesson of the Peanuts
cartoon. Snoopy kisses Lucy on the nose and breaks up the
“crab-in.” When we encounter the rocks in our lives, God
ALWAYS responds with Love if we are open to receiving it. We can
correct evil with love. We can correct something wrong with
something good. That’s the gospel way.
As we approach spring and await
the greening of the earth, we know that this requires water. And
so it is with the greening of our spirits. Hildegard of Bingen, a
12th century abbess, says there are three ways to help
keep our spirits green—knowing our tradition and studying the
Scriptures, being in touch with all creation, and knowing and
sharing our story.
So, as the Holy Spirit is within
us, may we be empowered to share our stories and be Living Water
for one another!
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Just
Go !
I
was a member of a church which I belonged to for a long time and
for which I felt in at least a small way that I had contributed to
it becoming a beautiful and comfortable place of worship.
Over the last several years of belonging there, I became
increasingly critical of everything from the sermon content, to
the music selections– but overwhelmingly critical of the fact
that there was very little joy in that place.
Having a big mouth and a Sunday school class in which to
vent my feelings, I continually let my friends know of my
frustration in seeing how Joyless this church had become until
they encouraged me to give them a break - and for me to look for
another church that pleased me better.
Shortly
after starting to attend at Ascension, I had the opportunity to
meet some kids on 8th St., through the kitchen rehab
project at Esperanza.
This meeting and connection with these kids has changed my
life.
It has changed my life in one overwhelming way – that is
I have a joy in my life that I had been praying for and looking
for in the wrong place-the church.
It took the experience of leaving my cocoon and in
faith-reaching out to kids in need, for it to happen.
It took for me to go where I would choose not to go, for it
to happen.
As a result I have participated in lives where death has
taken a brother and a son, where a prisoner father returned home
to 3 kids he didn’t know, to seeing the faces of beautiful kids
when they heard for the first time that they had value – that
they had abilities and qualities that were unique and good because
they were made by God, who doesn’t make junk.
Whatever
success I have had with them is based totally on the fact that I
am there.
My joy comes from watching the Holy Spirit work in their
lives, in spite of my lack of training or any wonderfully
conceived programs.
My Joy, and it is overwhelming- comes from sharing my time
and my life with those whom society would assess as a cultural
disconnect.
What logically would a 54-year-old bald-headed white guy
have in common with Black and Puerto Rican kids 10 to 20 years
old?
Nothing logically!
But the Holy Spirit has connected us and as a result, has
filled my life with Joy.
Jesus
repeatedly asked Peter, in John 21: 15-17 if he loved him.
Peter continued to respond almost annoyed – yes, of
course I do.
Jesus repeatedly told him if you love me – feed my sheep,
or in other words, If you love me take care of those that are
vulnerable, those who may be weaker, less experienced – those
who may get lost in the shuffle – take care of them.
Did Jesus need Peter the “lunk-head”, Peter the
fisherman - to care for these sheep?
I think the answer is no.
God is God and he certainly wasn’t relegated to this
specific person Peter or this particular style of caring for the
weak to accomplish His will.
Jesus invited Peter to an opportunity to get a glimpse of
heaven by experiencing Joy so unimaginable, by merely providing
him an opportunity to connect, with members of his ultimate family
– that he had not yet met – who were in need.
We
are told to love God and our neighbor as ourselves –
but we miss the reason that we are given to do this - so
that “Our Joy May Be Full”.
A joy that connects us to our Creator, Savior and Friend
– A joy that comes from witnessing the power of God working in
lives around us and through us-in spite of our limitations.
The
apostles were called out of their professions into lives of
adventure and joy.
It was simple – they were called and they went.
Not with an attitude of – I will do this because it is
required of me, but because the King of Kings was including them
in His work and they were witnesses to the power of God, in Jesus,
changing everything.
The unlovely were being loved, the sick were healed, the
lonely were given companionship, the hopeless were given hope, and
the grieving received joy.
What motivation and what training did the Apostles get?
Today’s
Gospel Lesson clearly described that when the Apostles were
convinced that Jesus was the Messiah, they could do nothing else
but invite their brothers, sisters, cousins and all those that
they cared about to come and meet the Master.
They were pretty much frantic that none should miss the
opportunity to meet Jesus.
They had intensity about them
- that the problems that they all shared - could be
understood or resolved by knowing the King.
We need the same intensity today.
People who are struggling, those in the midst of
unemployment or divorce or poverty – don’t have a lifetime to
sort things out – they need the peace that only comes from the
Holy Spirit in their lives Today!
News
Years Eve I had the opportunity to have lunch with some of my
boys.
I asked them what they were most grateful for this year.
Their collective response was that they had survived
another year and that they all lived to reach 15 years old, in
spite of the odds.
What type of intensity should we have in pointing a lost
generation to the only source of power that they need in their
lives? – Jesus.
Should we wait for the right social service agency to
respond?
Should we tell those in need – hang in there, it will
work out.
Or should we go, get involved and see if there is something
that can be done, and let those that we try to help know that we
are doing this because Jesus loves us and He loves you and
sometimes He uses dopey, unprepared people to help Him in his
work.
My
recommendation for the church is this: Don’t look for Sunday
Services to fill your life with joy.
Joy comes with participation.
Christianity is not a spectator sport it is an active
faith.
My sadness in not finding joy on my former church had less
to do with the pastor, the music, the programs and ministries and
everything to do with my inactivity and laziness.
When I was provided an opportunity to go somewhere –
somewhere I would have chosen, not to go – and I went, that is
where I found my missing joy.
Growing
up in the church I always hated to hear from or about
missionaries, because I always dreaded that I might be called to
one of those lousy places they always talked about or at least
would be called to a difficult life like they always reported.
Those types of sacrifices are ones that I knew that I would
never make.
I understand now what a sucker play that thinking is.
Joy and excitement come from experiencing the working of
the Holy Spirit in crazy places, with strange people at unusual
times and in situations for which you are not prepared.
If
your life is a little short on Joy and excitement, I pray that you
will go.
Go
where? - I don’t know.
Pray about it and then go where you feel you might be
directed.
Will you be sure that you are being directed – probably
not?
If anything, you will probably try to convince yourself
that the idea of trying this is stupid and if you don’t feel
insecure enough, those closest to you will give you lots of loving
reasons why you will only make a fool of yourself, or you will
insult somebody by going.
What ultimately gets laid on your heart to do or where to
go, will probably surprise you – or then again - maybe now you
now know where you need to go and have known for a long time.
In the words of Nike – just do it!
Just go where you are directed: it might be to a lonely
elderly person you only slightly know, it might be to struggling
young mother, to a homeless shelter, to a neighbor who is out of
work or to the Vaudeville Retirement Home for Previously Happy
People!
Just go.
Go purposefully with the spirit that I am going because I
have the heart to do it.
Go knowing that you have no great gift or knowledge to
bring, other than your willingness to go and be used of God.
Go with expectation, yet assume nothing.
Go because in your heart you know and have known for years
that you have been groomed and cared for by God, that you belong
to an eternal family and you have heard Jesus words to Peter –
If you love me – feed my sheep.
Then come back to ascension and tell us about your
adventures in the faith.
The
church in many ways is like a football team that never plays the
games, but only huddles.
We huddle every Sunday and talk about what we should do,
but we never get on the field.
The joy of scoring a touchdown, or making a great block or
tackle never comes to those that “stay in the huddle”.
Ask for the ball!
Tell Jesus that you will go long – in case he wants to
throw you the ball.
Say “send me to run interference”, I will feed your
sheep!
I
had a dream about our new church on the hill.
In that dream, I brought a friend to worship and he
remarked that he had never been in such a joy-filled place and he
asked me who and what was responsible for the overwhelming joy
that he felt.
I responded that the answer is easy.
It is the people.
You have to meet these people to believe them, they are the
most joy-filled people that you ever met.
This is Andrea; she has a ministry to the sick and
shut-ins.
Jim, here has a ministry in restoring bicycles which he
uses to reach a lot of children with a message of hope that Jesus
loves them.
This is Fred; he has a ministry with retired executives.
Joy has an unbelievable way with the pre-school kids she
teaches in Sunday school.
John is like a bull in a china shop, but he has a
compassion for the widows of the church and they respond uniquely
to his humor.
How much time do you have because I need you to meet Mike
and Irma and Ray and Denise, Kurt and Janet and Kim and Judy….
And there are so many more.
My visitor said, if I join Ascension do I have to start a
ministry or join one in progress.
My answer was no, not at all.
Only if you need a little more joy and love in your life.
We do it because it is so exciting sharing in the work of
the Lord.
We feed sheep here in a lot of different ways.
We started doing it because we were told that we should, we
continue because we want to keep the joy that fills our lives.
In
this new year, I challenge you to pray about where you will go and
then make a pledge to yourself that you will go 3 times this year
to that place, to that person, to that group, to that cause.
If you wait till your kids are grown, till you are retired,
till you are financially secure, till your hurt goes away, you
will never go and you will have been cheated out of the Joy that
is yours.
You will miss the promise of Joy unspeakable.
Go
and let your face mirror the face of Jesus to those in need and
challenge others to join with you.
Go!
Just go! Empowered by the Holy Spirit reach out to someone
in need – and may the Joy that only comes from God fill your
life forever.
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The Cab Ride
Twenty years ago, I drove a cab
for a living. It was a cowboy's life, a life for someone who
wanted no boss. What I didn't realize was that it was also a
ministry. Because I drove the night shift, my cab became a moving
confessional. Passengers climbed in, sat behind me in total anonymity, and
told me about their lives. I
encountered people whose lives amazed me, ennobled me, made me
laugh and weep. But
none touched me more than a woman I picked up late one August
night. I was
responding to a call from a small brick fourplex in a quiet part
of town.
I assumed I was being sent to
pick up some partiers, or someone who had just had a fight with a
lover, or a worker
heading to an early shift at some factory for the industrial part
of town. When I
arrived at 2:30 a.m., the building was dark except for a single
light in a ground floor window. Under
such circumstances, many drivers just honk once or twice, wait a
minute, then drive away. But
I had seen too many impoverished people who depended on taxis as
their only means of transportation. Unless
a situation smelled of danger, I always went to the door. This passenger might be someone who needs my assistance, I
reasoned to myself. So
I walked to the door and knocked.
"Just a minute,"
answered a frail, elderly voice. I
could hear something being dragged
across the floor. After
a long pause, the door opened. A
small woman in her 80s stood before me. She
was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on
it, like somebody out of a 1940s movie. By
her side was a small nylon suitcase. The
apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All
the furniture was covered with sheets. There
were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the
counters. In the
corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware. "Would
you carry my bag out to the car?" she said. I took the
suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman. She
took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb. She kept
thanking me for my kindness.
"It's nothing," I told her. "I
just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother
treated."
"Oh,
you're such a good boy," she said. When
we got in the cab, she gave me an address, then asked, "Can
you drive through downtown?" "It's
not the shortest way," I answered quickly. "Oh, I don't
mind," she said. "I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a
hospice." I looked in the rearview mirror. Her eyes were glistening. "I
don't have any family left," she continued. "The doctor says I don't have very long."
I quietly reached over and shut
off the meter. "What
route would you like me to take?"
I asked. For the next
two hours, we drove through the city. She
showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator
operator. We drove
through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when
they were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had
once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl. Sometimes
she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner
and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.
As
the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, "I'm tired. Let's go
now." We drove
in silence to the address she had given me. It
was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a
driveway that passed under a portico. Two
orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They
were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her. I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door.
The woman was already seated in a wheelchair. "How much do I owe you?" she asked, reaching into
her purse.
"Nothing,"
I said. "You
have to make a living," she answered. "There
are other passengers,"
I responded. Almost
without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She
held onto me tightly. "You
gave an old woman a little moment of joy," she said.
"Thank you." I squeezed her hand, then walked into the dim morning light.
Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life.
I didn't pick up any
more passengers that shift. I
drove aimlessly, lost
in thought. For the
rest of that day, I could hardly talk. What
if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient
to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once,
then driven away? On
a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything more
important in my life.
We're
conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments. But
great moments often catch us unaware beautifully wrapped in what
others may consider a small one.
".....And their eyes were opened and they recognized
Jesus." Luke 24:31
Author unknown
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Do
You Remember Your First Bike ?
I remember the grand feeling of independence and
self-confidence my new bike gave me.
I could ride over and visit and play with my classmates after
school. They lived 10 to 20 blocks away - too far to walk - but now
they were within reach. On
hot summer days relief and fun were just a bike ride away over to
the public swimming pool. No
longer could the ice cream man who roamed our streets in his van get
away; I had time to plead with Mom for change, and still catch him
with my bike. (It may not have worked all the time, but it did work
often enough.) I may
have been only eight years old, but with my new bike I had so many
more options and freedom in this world.
What
were your experiences with your bicycle?
I suspect that most of them bring a smile to your face.
The
Lord moves in unexpected ways, and several months ago little did I
think that I would have an opportunity to spread the joy I remember
of riding my bike. One day at our partner church, Inglesia Luterana
Esperanza in the Hunting Park section of Philadelphia, it was
mentioned that it would be nice if we could ride from the church
over to the park with the kids on bicycles.
Several days later as I was leaving my local bike shop, I
thought of the visit to Esperanza.
Expecting nothing, but with nothing too loose, I asked the
owner if he had any spare used bikes that he would be willing to
donate to the children of church we were working with in Hunting
Park. To my great
surprise, the answer was yes. He
said that he had been donating trade-in bikes to a boys camp, but
now they now had all the bikes thy could use and he was looking for
a place where he could donate the bikes.
He thought it would be likely that he would have some bikes
for us.
Late
spring has turned into summer and fall, and now into early winter.
To date, the owner of the our local bike shop has donated
more than two dozen bicycles to the children of Esperanza.
(I have to comment that the bikes may have been second hand,
but there was nothing second rate about them.
They were in immaculate condition, and he installed new
tires, and even one new rim, and gave them all tune-up).
Mission Developer Jose Rojas was able to use and give away
the bikes during the Esperanza summer program.
After mentioning the program in church one Sunday,
additional help appeared. My
wife found some bikes at garage sale for Esperanza.
Most need some repair. Another
friend donated some bikes they have picked up in their travels that
others were going to discard. I
now have above 3 or 4 bikes to deliver, and a garage full with a
dozen or so bikes that need some repair.
One
church member once mentioned that his mother, acting as a census
taker in the Hunting Park area, found that there were almost two
hundred children living in just the one city block of row homes in
her survey. The numbers
have not likely changed in intervening years.
I would be willing to bet that half or more of those kids
could use a bike. Although we made a dozen or so kids very happy,
need is even greater.
I
could now use your help. Any
bicycles that you would like to donate, I will be willing to arrange
the delivery. But
especially, if you have some bicycle repair skills, your help is
needed to fix the bikes needing care that we have on hand that could
otherwise be on their way to the children of Esperanza.
The number of bikes exceeds both my time and capabilities.
Please lend a hand.
And,
the feelings watching the smiles of the kids of Esperanza are as
great as the thrill I remember with my first bike.
Jim
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Andrea's
Story
It was a snowy Christmas Eve and we were going
to visit my aunt and uncle. My husband, Jim, was driving. My mother and
father were in the car with us. There was an accident. We saw a young boy fly
off his motorcycle and land on the ground. Jim quickly stopped the car and he and I
ran over to him. I knelt down beside him and gave him my coat to help prevent shock
and keep him warm. I told him not to be afraid; he was going to be OK. Soon
many people began to gather around and a police officer arrived. Jim and I stayed
close by.
After a time of waiting for the ambulance to
arrive, I became cold and knew my parents waiting in the car would be anxious. Other
blankets had been supplied, so Jim asked the police officer if he would get my coat for
me. The police office returned from the boy's side to tell us that the boy had
said, "The angel who gave me the coat will be back for it." I said,
"I'm not an angel!" (I didn't want him to think I was an angel!) Jim and I
started back to the car. The police officer said, "Wait. I'll get your
coat for you." When he returned with the coat (a beautiful coat given to me by
my parents for Christmas), the police officer said that the boy would never be
convinced it wasn't an angel who gave him the coat.
I went to the boy lying on the ground. He
said, "You've come back! And you're wearing your coat! I hope there isn't
any blood on it." I told him there was no blood. I said an ambulance
would take him to the hospital. He would be sore and black and blue, but he would be
OK. He asked me about his motorcycle. It was a Christmas present from his
parents, he said. They hadn't wanted him to have it, but they got it for him
anyway. I told him they would be happy to see him and not even think about the bike
until later.
The boy asked me if I were an angel. I
told him that there were angels that we can see, like you and me, and angels that we can't
see. I told him they were all around him and wishing him well and praying for
him. I told him I would leave now, but not to worry and that he would be OK.
We said goodbye.
When I had first seen the boy on the ground, I
had thought, "This could be my son." I didn't have a child then, but I
hoped someone would help if there ever were such a need.
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