Week of April 25
We were walking along the shore at Palm Island Beach in December 2001.It was sunset and what I didn't know, is that John had a surprise. What John didn't know was that the Lord had one, too!
At exactly 5:42 pm, when the sunset was at it's brightest and most colorful, John looked me in the eyes and asked me to be his wife. I was so happy and time just seemed to stand still. As we admired the beautiful diamond ring, which was reflecting the colors of the sunset, two dolphins jumped up out of the water! Right in front of our eyes, they jumped and played close to the shore! This was really very special because I LOVE dolphins and rarely see them. I felt it was as if the Lord was smiling down on us and celebrating too!
As we planned our wedding, set for a year later, December 2002, I told many people about the wonderful dolphins at our engagement. I always said, "Wouldn't it be something if the Lord sent dolphins to our wedding ceremony, too!" We were planning a beach wedding at The Radisson on Lido Beach in Sarasota.
In the months leading up to our wedding I worked with Kimberly, the wedding coordinator at the Radisson. I told Kimberly about the dolphins at
our engagement and said that maybe God would send dolphins to our wedding ceremony, too. She laughed and said she always does her best to make the wedding perfect, but they usually don't see dolphins at the weddings there.
It was sunset on December 8, 2002, our wedding day. I stood in my gown waiting with my bridesmaids on the little bridge that leads to the beach. John and his groomsmen were already in their places down by the water. All of the guests were seated on the beach, facing the water, waiting for the ceremony to begin. We were told to stay out of sight and wait for Kimberly to come and give us the okay to proceed down the "isle."
Kimberly came running over with tears in her eyes. She said, "Sandy, you're not going to believe this! There are dolphins out there in the water! The guests are all looking at them! I've done a lot of weddings and I don't usually get emotional, but this is just what you wanted!"
I said, "God sent the dolphins, Kimberly.”
Sandy Kilroy
Lakewood Ranch, Florida
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Ran Out of Gas
Week of April 18
I had gone to the mall for a job interview. I spotted a man pushing a broom when I entered and I figured he must know where the main office is located. He was very pleasant and appeared to know a lot about this mall.
During my interview for a management position I mentioned the nice man I encountered pushing the broom. Guess I thought I would put in a good word for him since he showed kindness to me. After I described him they smiled and said, “ Oh that’s Jeff, he owns this mall. That is one of the ways he gets to talk with the customers.”
I was hired as a manager of that mall.
After that Jeff and I kept bumping in to each other. He was always cordial and we would have friendly albeit brief conversations. Several months went by and then I learned that Jeff had sold this mall for something around $29,000,000. Shortly after this the new owners gave me an envelope to deliver to Jeff’s home.
I wasn’t surprised to find that his home was a mansion right on the water but I was surprised when I pressed the front door bell and it was Jeff who opened the door. He greeted me warmly and invited me into his home. He opened the envelope and
told me that it was a sizeable check representing his part of the commission of the sale of the mall. He or someone in his family was a licensed real estate broker. Then he shared with me that his family foundation was inundated by requests for money. He said he was really looking “to find something to give to that is making a difference.” Since I didn’t immediately respond he said, “If you run into any, let me know.” I said I would.
A couple of years went by and I was driving down a back road near the coast when I see a guy standing by his car on the side of the road. It is Jeff. He has run out of gas and I offer to take him to the nearest filling station. It turns out to be some distance before we reach a station. We chat.
I ask him if he is still looking for an organization to give to that is making a difference. He asks what I have in mind? I tell him about a new organization called Gifts From God, which is feeding the hungry and helping families needing furniture or providing a car free to struggling single moms. By the time we are back to his car with a can of gasoline he has agreed to come to my office and meet with Mike Butterfield, the president of Gifts from God. From that meeting came a much needed seed grant from Jeff’s family foundation.
A year later I am driving on Laurel Road in Venice and I am rounding a curve and there is Jeff standing by his car on the side of the road. Yep! He was out of gas again.
“You have come to my rescue again, it must be time for another grant to Gifts From God,” he grins.
It was. Mike had called me a few days earlier with a bleak financial report and said we need another grant from Jeff’s foundation. And here God puts Jeff and I together again. Who else could orchestrate such timely chance meetings like this?
We received the second grant which I call truly a gift from God.
Lloyd Keith
Osprey, Fl.
I had gone to the mall for a job interview. I spotted a man pushing a broom when I entered and I figured he must know where the main office is located. He was very pleasant and appeared to know a lot about this mall.
During my interview for a management position I mentioned the nice man I encountered pushing the broom. Guess I thought I would put in a good word for him since he showed kindness to me. After I described him they smiled and said, “ Oh that’s Jeff, he owns this mall. That is one of the ways he gets to talk with the customers.”
I was hired as a manager of that mall.
After that Jeff and I kept bumping in to each other. He was always cordial and we would have friendly albeit brief conversations. Several months went by and then I learned that Jeff had sold this mall for something around $29,000,000. Shortly after this the new owners gave me an envelope to deliver to Jeff’s home.
I wasn’t surprised to find that his home was a mansion right on the water but I was surprised when I pressed the front door bell and it was Jeff who opened the door. He greeted me warmly and invited me into his home. He opened the envelope and
told me that it was a sizeable check representing his part of the commission of the sale of the mall. He or someone in his family was a licensed real estate broker. Then he shared with me that his family foundation was inundated by requests for money. He said he was really looking “to find something to give to that is making a difference.” Since I didn’t immediately respond he said, “If you run into any, let me know.” I said I would.
A couple of years went by and I was driving down a back road near the coast when I see a guy standing by his car on the side of the road. It is Jeff. He has run out of gas and I offer to take him to the nearest filling station. It turns out to be some distance before we reach a station. We chat.
I ask him if he is still looking for an organization to give to that is making a difference. He asks what I have in mind? I tell him about a new organization called Gifts From God, which is feeding the hungry and helping families needing furniture or providing a car free to struggling single moms. By the time we are back to his car with a can of gasoline he has agreed to come to my office and meet with Mike Butterfield, the president of Gifts from God. From that meeting came a much needed seed grant from Jeff’s family foundation.
A year later I am driving on Laurel Road in Venice and I am rounding a curve and there is Jeff standing by his car on the side of the road. Yep! He was out of gas again.
“You have come to my rescue again, it must be time for another grant to Gifts From God,” he grins.
It was. Mike had called me a few days earlier with a bleak financial report and said we need another grant from Jeff’s foundation. And here God puts Jeff and I together again. Who else could orchestrate such timely chance meetings like this?
We received the second grant which I call truly a gift from God.
Lloyd Keith
Osprey, Fl.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
"Pull Over!"
Week of April 11
When I was little, my parents, brother and I made yearly trips to Maine, my mother's home state. Our trip was a long one from North Carolina to this northern destination, but we always looked forward to it.
The year was 1966 and we were on our yearly trek. I was about eight years old. My brother, who is older than me by 17 months, was sitting in the back with me and we were both trying to spot unusual landmarks. We were on the Massachusetts's Turnpike and it was a bright and beautiful sunny day, about two in the afternoon. My father was driving and mother was talking to him about how excited she was to be going back to Maine.
Out of nowhere a booming voice filled the entire car, "Pull over!" We all looked at each other and then my father looked in his rear view mirror. We couldn't locate the source of the "voice". Again, more emphatically we heard, "Pull Over!” I recall the surprised look on all our faces. Our heads were turning in all directions trying to spot where this "voice" was coming from. Mother and father were saying that maybe it was a state police helicopter with a megaphone. My brother and I were saying, "What was that? What was that?" Because we expected our parent's to know.
Once again the "voice" came, "Pull Over!" So, we did. Father and mother both got out of the car and were anxiously waiting to see if a police car was going to stop behind them. Had we been speeding? Was there something wrong with the car that the authorities may have spotted? I heard the nervousness in my parents’ voices as they questioned each other about what it could be and continued to look all around.
We had pulled over to the emergency lane and there they stood, just outside the car, craning their necks and heads in all directions, behind them, up in the air, looking and searching everywhere for the source of the voice.
Other cars whizzed past. The travelers were going to their destination like there wasn't anything wrong, other than thinking perhaps, "Why are those crazy people from North Carolina standing on the side of the road looking around"?
Eventually, my mother and father got back into the car. My brother and I were quiet and waited to see if they were going to be able to explain this to us. My father just started the car and we eased back onto the turnpike.
That was it. Nothing happened. No one showed up with blue flashing lights. It was just a voice coming out of nowhere beseeching us to "pull over.” We continued on our trip to Maine and as always we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves once there.
We have discussed this event many times as a family. We all know we heard the "voice" and we each clearly heard the command three times. We experienced something that none of us, to this day, have ever been able to rationally explain. We believe an accident was avoided and God had his hand directly on us.
Donna Everhardt
North Carolina
When I was little, my parents, brother and I made yearly trips to Maine, my mother's home state. Our trip was a long one from North Carolina to this northern destination, but we always looked forward to it.
The year was 1966 and we were on our yearly trek. I was about eight years old. My brother, who is older than me by 17 months, was sitting in the back with me and we were both trying to spot unusual landmarks. We were on the Massachusetts's Turnpike and it was a bright and beautiful sunny day, about two in the afternoon. My father was driving and mother was talking to him about how excited she was to be going back to Maine.
Out of nowhere a booming voice filled the entire car, "Pull over!" We all looked at each other and then my father looked in his rear view mirror. We couldn't locate the source of the "voice". Again, more emphatically we heard, "Pull Over!” I recall the surprised look on all our faces. Our heads were turning in all directions trying to spot where this "voice" was coming from. Mother and father were saying that maybe it was a state police helicopter with a megaphone. My brother and I were saying, "What was that? What was that?" Because we expected our parent's to know.
Once again the "voice" came, "Pull Over!" So, we did. Father and mother both got out of the car and were anxiously waiting to see if a police car was going to stop behind them. Had we been speeding? Was there something wrong with the car that the authorities may have spotted? I heard the nervousness in my parents’ voices as they questioned each other about what it could be and continued to look all around.
We had pulled over to the emergency lane and there they stood, just outside the car, craning their necks and heads in all directions, behind them, up in the air, looking and searching everywhere for the source of the voice.
Other cars whizzed past. The travelers were going to their destination like there wasn't anything wrong, other than thinking perhaps, "Why are those crazy people from North Carolina standing on the side of the road looking around"?
Eventually, my mother and father got back into the car. My brother and I were quiet and waited to see if they were going to be able to explain this to us. My father just started the car and we eased back onto the turnpike.
That was it. Nothing happened. No one showed up with blue flashing lights. It was just a voice coming out of nowhere beseeching us to "pull over.” We continued on our trip to Maine and as always we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves once there.
We have discussed this event many times as a family. We all know we heard the "voice" and we each clearly heard the command three times. We experienced something that none of us, to this day, have ever been able to rationally explain. We believe an accident was avoided and God had his hand directly on us.
Donna Everhardt
North Carolina
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Give Me a Sign
Week of April 4
“Some of you are feeling pretty low right now but believe me you will feel a lot better in six weeks.”
I heard him loud and clear. I wanted this six-week Divorce Recovery Workshop at my church to be over now so I could feel better. The instructor was right about one thing. I was feeling lower than a reptile slithering in the mud. I hoped he was right about feeling better in six weeks. All I could do now was hold onto that hope.
My marriage of seven years wasn’t officially over yet but it had ended a long time ago. Drugs and alcohol had taken their toll. I had been the one to sober up first but all I got for my effort was more verbal abuse from a husband that blamed everything on me,. He continued to medicate himself while I felt a constant ache of loneliness and the pain from the yelling and nightly name calling. There seemed to be no end. Somebody had to end this madness. I moved out and filed for divorce.
I told all this to my Divorce Recovery small group. Each person in the group got to share their situation. We all listened to each other with compassion. I felt particularly sorry for the gals with young children. At least I didn’t have that problem. A childhood disease had left me barren. I didn’t think I could
ever feel good about that but I was thankful now that I didn’t have to go through this with a child too.
The group and our facilitator became my support base for the next several weeks. We helped each other deal with the grieving over the loss of an intimate relationship and to focus on what we had to do to become a whole person again. That meant we had to let go of the anger and the blame in order to begin the healing process. The group was there for me the night my divorce became official by court order. I was glad to be with them and not alone in my apartment.
The instructor was right. I did feel better on “graduation night” from the workshop and there were plenty of tears and hugs and brownies. Our group exchanged phone numbers before leaving. The high I felt at the end of the workshop came crashing down a week later when I lost my high salaried marketing position. The corporation just eliminated the entire department.
I was devastated. During all the trials of the divorce I had poured myself into the job and had relied on the steady income to keep me independent. Now what would I do? How would I keep the apartment once the severance pay ran out? I went into depression. It got worse as the weeks went by and I couldn’t find another position within the corporation or a like paying job in the city.
I was at or nearing the bottom of my depression pit when a friend from the divorce group called. She asked me how I was doing and I told her. She invited me to he son’s sixth birthday party that afternoon and I at first declined. But she insisted and I thought maybe it would cheer me up.
The party was outside in the yard. It was a mistake to be there. The children playing and the mother’s talking about kids and families depressed me more. When they were occupied with a pin the tail on the donkey game I slipped into the house. I wandered into the living room and all of a sudden the tears gushed out and I was shaking uncontrollably. I cried out to the Lord. With my head bowed and my hand gripping the fireplace mantle I said, “Lord are you there? Let me know. Give me a sign or something that I can know you can hear me… that I matter.”
The tears subsided and the shakes stopped. I lifted my head slowly and there in front of me above the mantle I saw through moist eyes a framed copy of “Footprints.”
“Footprints”
One night a man had a dream and in his dream he reviewed the footsteps he had taken in his life. He looked and noticed that all over the mountains and difficult places he had traveled there was one set of footprints but over the plains and down the hills, there were two sets of footprints, as if someone had walked by his side.
He turned to Christ and said, “There is something I don’t understand. Why is it that down the hills and over the smooth and easy places you walked by my side; but here over the tough and difficult places I walked alone, for I see in those places there is just one set of footprints.”
Christ said to the man, “It is that while your life was easy that I walked along your side;
But here, where the walking was hard and paths difficult, was the time you needed me most and that is when I carried you.”
“Call on Me in your day of trouble and I will deliver you and you will give me the glory.”(Psalm 50:15)
Mary Beth Darling
San Francisco, California
“Some of you are feeling pretty low right now but believe me you will feel a lot better in six weeks.”
I heard him loud and clear. I wanted this six-week Divorce Recovery Workshop at my church to be over now so I could feel better. The instructor was right about one thing. I was feeling lower than a reptile slithering in the mud. I hoped he was right about feeling better in six weeks. All I could do now was hold onto that hope.
My marriage of seven years wasn’t officially over yet but it had ended a long time ago. Drugs and alcohol had taken their toll. I had been the one to sober up first but all I got for my effort was more verbal abuse from a husband that blamed everything on me,. He continued to medicate himself while I felt a constant ache of loneliness and the pain from the yelling and nightly name calling. There seemed to be no end. Somebody had to end this madness. I moved out and filed for divorce.
I told all this to my Divorce Recovery small group. Each person in the group got to share their situation. We all listened to each other with compassion. I felt particularly sorry for the gals with young children. At least I didn’t have that problem. A childhood disease had left me barren. I didn’t think I could
ever feel good about that but I was thankful now that I didn’t have to go through this with a child too.
The group and our facilitator became my support base for the next several weeks. We helped each other deal with the grieving over the loss of an intimate relationship and to focus on what we had to do to become a whole person again. That meant we had to let go of the anger and the blame in order to begin the healing process. The group was there for me the night my divorce became official by court order. I was glad to be with them and not alone in my apartment.
The instructor was right. I did feel better on “graduation night” from the workshop and there were plenty of tears and hugs and brownies. Our group exchanged phone numbers before leaving. The high I felt at the end of the workshop came crashing down a week later when I lost my high salaried marketing position. The corporation just eliminated the entire department.
I was devastated. During all the trials of the divorce I had poured myself into the job and had relied on the steady income to keep me independent. Now what would I do? How would I keep the apartment once the severance pay ran out? I went into depression. It got worse as the weeks went by and I couldn’t find another position within the corporation or a like paying job in the city.
I was at or nearing the bottom of my depression pit when a friend from the divorce group called. She asked me how I was doing and I told her. She invited me to he son’s sixth birthday party that afternoon and I at first declined. But she insisted and I thought maybe it would cheer me up.
The party was outside in the yard. It was a mistake to be there. The children playing and the mother’s talking about kids and families depressed me more. When they were occupied with a pin the tail on the donkey game I slipped into the house. I wandered into the living room and all of a sudden the tears gushed out and I was shaking uncontrollably. I cried out to the Lord. With my head bowed and my hand gripping the fireplace mantle I said, “Lord are you there? Let me know. Give me a sign or something that I can know you can hear me… that I matter.”
The tears subsided and the shakes stopped. I lifted my head slowly and there in front of me above the mantle I saw through moist eyes a framed copy of “Footprints.”
“Footprints”
One night a man had a dream and in his dream he reviewed the footsteps he had taken in his life. He looked and noticed that all over the mountains and difficult places he had traveled there was one set of footprints but over the plains and down the hills, there were two sets of footprints, as if someone had walked by his side.
He turned to Christ and said, “There is something I don’t understand. Why is it that down the hills and over the smooth and easy places you walked by my side; but here over the tough and difficult places I walked alone, for I see in those places there is just one set of footprints.”
Christ said to the man, “It is that while your life was easy that I walked along your side;
But here, where the walking was hard and paths difficult, was the time you needed me most and that is when I carried you.”
“Call on Me in your day of trouble and I will deliver you and you will give me the glory.”(Psalm 50:15)
Mary Beth Darling
San Francisco, California
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