Week of June 27
The economy was collapsing, I had lost my job and my previous employer was laying people off. I applied for a job with the Census Bureau.
In the spring I was trained and sent out as a per-census canvasser. I was working a familiar neighborhood when a former acquaintance came out to say hello. She walked with me as I made my way around the block. She told me she had lost her husband in November and felt lonely and lost. It’s hard for her to get around and she has to take the bus if she has to get anywhere. She didn’t have a car and she doesn’t drive.
I asked why didn’t you call me and she said she didn’t want to bother people.I said, “Don’t feel bad asking for help. That’s why God put us on earth to help one another. He would have stopped at one if he didn’t mean for us to take care of each other. Besides, when you ask someone for help you are actually doing them a favor because it makes them feel needed and wanted. It gives them a purpose.”
We continued walking around the block and then she went her way and I went mine. I didn’t think much about it. I had given her my number and figured I was on her call list.
The very next day I was canvassing across the street. I parked in a driveway of a house I new to be empty and proceeded to walk the block. Someone drives up in a van with her in it. She flagged me down and said she was on her way to the emergency room; she said she had chest pains. The man driving the van was with Jehovah Witness who said “he felt the need” to stop by her house that day. He didn’t know why he just knew he had to drop by.He walked in the door and took one look at her and asked what’s wrong. He had taken her to a walk in clinic and the people there said to take her to the emergency room. He said he had other engagements and couldn’t stay with her, could I. I told them I would finish this block and meet them in the ER.
When I arrived she was sitting there alone, feeling anxious with pains both in the chest and back. I became her hand-holder. We chatted and I learned her family lived mostly in Minnesota. I said once she was admitted I would call them and let them know her situation. She called a neighbor, who was like an adopted daughter, and asked if she would come to the ER.
The doctors came by and said her EKG and other tests were normal and they felt it wasn’t a heart attack and that made her feel better.When her neighbor arrived she seemed agitated and more upset than the situation called for and I didn’t understand why. By this time it was nearly 7 P.M. and Lois was getting hungry so I left her with her neighbor and went out to get some food.
I returned with some chicken soup and a turkey sandwich which seemed to hit the spot. When admitting finally found Lois a bed the neighbor and I accompanied her to her room.
Later when the medical staff came in for a test the neighbor and I waited out in the hall. It was the first time we were together without Lois.It was then that the neighbor told me Lois’s adult son passed away in Minnesota that afternoon. It was out of the blue. He had had a ski mobile accident months before and had been in rehab and seemed to be healing. Apparently a blood clot broke loose from somewhere and lodged in his heart.
For some reason God wanted her to be in the hospital before they told her. She wasn’t told that night, they were waiting until the next day when all the tests would be back.
When I arrived home that night my sister had sent me a card with a picture of a steaming cup of coffee on the outside.
It read: “Good morning this is God. I will be handling all your problems today; I will not need your help…so have a good day. Love God.”
I took the card and some flowers the next morning to Lois. She hadn’t been told yet. Later on, when all her tests came back ok, they told her about her son.
I believe God wanted her to be somewhere safe and to have that card before she received the news.
Jenelle Pullin
Venice, Fl.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Monday, June 21, 2010
The Last Day is Coming
June 21
Today is the longest day of the year. The days will start getting shorter again. It is the order of our universe, happens every year. The Bible tells us that this order will all come to an abrupt end someday.
This dire prediction takes on a distinct probability since astronomers discovered a huge asteroid falling through space, which could collide with our planet later in this millennium. We have been warned.
“And the stars from heaven fell… and every mountain and island was moved out of its place.” (Revelation 7:13-14)
Today is the longest day of the year. The days will start getting shorter again. It is the order of our universe, happens every year. The Bible tells us that this order will all come to an abrupt end someday.
This dire prediction takes on a distinct probability since astronomers discovered a huge asteroid falling through space, which could collide with our planet later in this millennium. We have been warned.
“And the stars from heaven fell… and every mountain and island was moved out of its place.” (Revelation 7:13-14)
Sunday, June 20, 2010
A Miracle for my Dad
Week of June 20
Good Friday Jack was working out at the gym, as he often did. Without warning he collapsed on a weight machine and slid to the floor. A cardiac nurse happened to be working out nearby. She normally would not have been at the gym at that hour but a schedule change at work allowed her to be at the gym. She had the presence to remove vomit from Jack’s mouth which cleared his air passage. Jack, unconscious but breathing on his own was rushed to a nearby hospital.
In the emergency room Jack remained unconscious, a couple of times the doctors lost a pulse. He remained in a coma. The doctor told his wife that a cat scan showed no activity-if he regained consciousness he probably would be a vegetable. Jack’s youngest daughter, Colleen, a high school student, told her mom not to believe the doctors.
“Our God is bigger than that,” she said. Later after the rest of the family arrived Colleen found her way to the Chapel. She was alone. She prayed for God’s healing power. She said she clearly her a voice in her head say, “I will restore those (brain) cells Sunday to glorify my son’s resurrection.”
When she reported this revelation to her family she was met with skepticism, heads shaking in disbelief, and eyes rolling. The next day Jack was still in a
comma and on life support. Twice Colleen, in talking to her dad, got such a strong reaction on the monitoring machine that the nurses came in the room. The second time she was asked her to leave the hospital room. She insisted her dad was going to be ok. “You don’t know my God or my dad,” she told the nurses as she left.
The next day, Easter morning, there was a banging at her bedroom door. It was her little brother reporting that “Dad woke up.”
An excited Colleen, while driving to the hospital stopped at every convenience store she passed to exclaim, “Behold the Lamb of God, my dad is healed.” She arrived at the hospital to find her dad sitting up and being his old feisty self.
When Colleen returned home that day and turned on her favorite Christian station the first thing she heard was “Behold the Lamb of God.”
Jack Reilly
Tucson, Arizona (as told by his daughter)
Good Friday Jack was working out at the gym, as he often did. Without warning he collapsed on a weight machine and slid to the floor. A cardiac nurse happened to be working out nearby. She normally would not have been at the gym at that hour but a schedule change at work allowed her to be at the gym. She had the presence to remove vomit from Jack’s mouth which cleared his air passage. Jack, unconscious but breathing on his own was rushed to a nearby hospital.
In the emergency room Jack remained unconscious, a couple of times the doctors lost a pulse. He remained in a coma. The doctor told his wife that a cat scan showed no activity-if he regained consciousness he probably would be a vegetable. Jack’s youngest daughter, Colleen, a high school student, told her mom not to believe the doctors.
“Our God is bigger than that,” she said. Later after the rest of the family arrived Colleen found her way to the Chapel. She was alone. She prayed for God’s healing power. She said she clearly her a voice in her head say, “I will restore those (brain) cells Sunday to glorify my son’s resurrection.”
When she reported this revelation to her family she was met with skepticism, heads shaking in disbelief, and eyes rolling. The next day Jack was still in a
comma and on life support. Twice Colleen, in talking to her dad, got such a strong reaction on the monitoring machine that the nurses came in the room. The second time she was asked her to leave the hospital room. She insisted her dad was going to be ok. “You don’t know my God or my dad,” she told the nurses as she left.
The next day, Easter morning, there was a banging at her bedroom door. It was her little brother reporting that “Dad woke up.”
An excited Colleen, while driving to the hospital stopped at every convenience store she passed to exclaim, “Behold the Lamb of God, my dad is healed.” She arrived at the hospital to find her dad sitting up and being his old feisty self.
When Colleen returned home that day and turned on her favorite Christian station the first thing she heard was “Behold the Lamb of God.”
Jack Reilly
Tucson, Arizona (as told by his daughter)
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Hope Haulers
Week of June 13
I’m a salesman and a part time chaplain to the trucking industry. This is a true story.
Three days after 9//11, 2001 I was on my way to Destin Fl. for the annual convention of the Tennessee Trucking Association where I planned to launch Hope Haulers, a family of services to and through the trucking industry. Upon arrival I wasn’t surprised to find everyone talking about 9/11. When I spoke with the association president he asked me if I would deliver the opening prayer. I said I would.
When I stood up in front of the convention, and I hadn’t planned this, I said, “looking out at your faces I see some of you are wondering what is going on in the world and others of you look worried. I might feel the same way if it wasn’t for my faith and knowing my destiny. I believe God has us all here for a reason and if any of you have uncertainty in your life and are anxious see me before you leave this conference.”
Two hundred and fifty people came up to talk with me over the next three days.
Shortly after returning to Nashville I went to the chapel at the truck stop in Antioch to pick up some tools that I left there before going to Florida and to
talk with Chaplain Doug.
A young man came in and started asking the chaplain questions. The nature of the questions told me I should retreat to the chaplain’s quarters and pray for Doug while he talks with the man. I could hear the chaplain making progress when a lady truck driver comes in and interrupts the conversation. I came out and suggest that the lady and I go next door to the restaurant. She is angry with God and unloads on me. We talk for more than an hour and she calms down. I realize I have to leave and I give her my cell number and head back to the chapel to pickup my tools.
The chapel is empty and I wonder how Doug made out with the young man. As I walk out of the chapel with my tools I notice a truck waiting to pull up to the fuel isle but there is no truck in front of it. The driver is just staring straight ahead.
I yell, “hey trucker you can move up.” No response, the driver continues to stare straight ahead.
I walk over and jump up on his rail. “You ok?”
The driver slowly moves his head and says he is waiting for his wife who is in the restaurant. Then he adds, “I’m a mess.”
I tell him to pull around and park and to meet me in the chapel. I drop my tools in my truck and I spot Doug in the restaurant. He tells me he had a good talk with the young man and has scheduled a follow up tomorrow. Together we go into the chapel and
pray for the man in the truck.
After a few minutes, he comes into the chapel. “You have something heavy weighing you down?” He nods. I ask, “are you a Christian?”
“Sorta.”
“Did you ever accept Jesus as your Lord and Savior?”
“Sorta.”
“Let’s address sorta. What do you mean by sorta?”
He tells me that he was kicked out of his house when he was 15, moved into the home of a pastor and his wife. He lived in the basement for a few years and that is when he “sorta” heard about the Lord.
.
“I find a good starting point is getting right with the Lord, would you like to do that,” I ask?
“OK, how do I do that?”
“Go for it! Just start praying.”
There is a long silence. He starts to sweat.
I say, “Tracey there is a battle going on right now over you. If it is alright with you I’ll put my hands on you and I’ll pray over your body. Are you comfortable with this?” He says, “Yeah.”
After two minutes of prayer he opens up and there is a stream of confession, repentance and acceptance of Jesus as his Lord and Savior. We all rejoice. He tells us that the gal waiting in his truck is not his wife but his live in girlfriend.
“I need to get right with that. When she came out of the restaurant with our food she wanted to leave. I told her I had to go to the chapel. She said I’ll wait here.” He looks at me and says, “When I saw you go into the chapel I wondered if you were the chaplain. When I saw you come out I hoped you would come over. When you spoke I couldn’t move my head it was like it was frozen.”
Then he says, “I’m an owner operator. I’ve lost my job, I’m behind in my payments and I’m broke, I had a spot all picked out one and half hours up the road where I was going to drive off and end it all. Then you jumped up on my truck.”
Chuck Sonn
Nashville, Tennessee
I’m a salesman and a part time chaplain to the trucking industry. This is a true story.
Three days after 9//11, 2001 I was on my way to Destin Fl. for the annual convention of the Tennessee Trucking Association where I planned to launch Hope Haulers, a family of services to and through the trucking industry. Upon arrival I wasn’t surprised to find everyone talking about 9/11. When I spoke with the association president he asked me if I would deliver the opening prayer. I said I would.
When I stood up in front of the convention, and I hadn’t planned this, I said, “looking out at your faces I see some of you are wondering what is going on in the world and others of you look worried. I might feel the same way if it wasn’t for my faith and knowing my destiny. I believe God has us all here for a reason and if any of you have uncertainty in your life and are anxious see me before you leave this conference.”
Two hundred and fifty people came up to talk with me over the next three days.
Shortly after returning to Nashville I went to the chapel at the truck stop in Antioch to pick up some tools that I left there before going to Florida and to
talk with Chaplain Doug.
A young man came in and started asking the chaplain questions. The nature of the questions told me I should retreat to the chaplain’s quarters and pray for Doug while he talks with the man. I could hear the chaplain making progress when a lady truck driver comes in and interrupts the conversation. I came out and suggest that the lady and I go next door to the restaurant. She is angry with God and unloads on me. We talk for more than an hour and she calms down. I realize I have to leave and I give her my cell number and head back to the chapel to pickup my tools.
The chapel is empty and I wonder how Doug made out with the young man. As I walk out of the chapel with my tools I notice a truck waiting to pull up to the fuel isle but there is no truck in front of it. The driver is just staring straight ahead.
I yell, “hey trucker you can move up.” No response, the driver continues to stare straight ahead.
I walk over and jump up on his rail. “You ok?”
The driver slowly moves his head and says he is waiting for his wife who is in the restaurant. Then he adds, “I’m a mess.”
I tell him to pull around and park and to meet me in the chapel. I drop my tools in my truck and I spot Doug in the restaurant. He tells me he had a good talk with the young man and has scheduled a follow up tomorrow. Together we go into the chapel and
pray for the man in the truck.
After a few minutes, he comes into the chapel. “You have something heavy weighing you down?” He nods. I ask, “are you a Christian?”
“Sorta.”
“Did you ever accept Jesus as your Lord and Savior?”
“Sorta.”
“Let’s address sorta. What do you mean by sorta?”
He tells me that he was kicked out of his house when he was 15, moved into the home of a pastor and his wife. He lived in the basement for a few years and that is when he “sorta” heard about the Lord.
.
“I find a good starting point is getting right with the Lord, would you like to do that,” I ask?
“OK, how do I do that?”
“Go for it! Just start praying.”
There is a long silence. He starts to sweat.
I say, “Tracey there is a battle going on right now over you. If it is alright with you I’ll put my hands on you and I’ll pray over your body. Are you comfortable with this?” He says, “Yeah.”
After two minutes of prayer he opens up and there is a stream of confession, repentance and acceptance of Jesus as his Lord and Savior. We all rejoice. He tells us that the gal waiting in his truck is not his wife but his live in girlfriend.
“I need to get right with that. When she came out of the restaurant with our food she wanted to leave. I told her I had to go to the chapel. She said I’ll wait here.” He looks at me and says, “When I saw you go into the chapel I wondered if you were the chaplain. When I saw you come out I hoped you would come over. When you spoke I couldn’t move my head it was like it was frozen.”
Then he says, “I’m an owner operator. I’ve lost my job, I’m behind in my payments and I’m broke, I had a spot all picked out one and half hours up the road where I was going to drive off and end it all. Then you jumped up on my truck.”
Chuck Sonn
Nashville, Tennessee
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Less We Forget
Week of June 6
This week is the 56th Anniversary of D-Day...the landing of Allied Forces on the beaches of France to free the French and others from the occupation of Nazi Germany.
This Go Figure story is dedicated to the men and women of that era and remembering one soldier in particular who I had the privilege of meeting at a boy scout camp in 1948. His name was Malcolm Daniels and his camp nickname was Peppy.
We were both on the staff of Camp Yawgoog, a Boy Scout camp in Rockville R.I.Peppy, a disabled vet was the chef that summer and I was an apprentice on the waterfront. Peppy and I were tent-mates.
One afternoon while changing to go for a swim I noticed why he was disabled. Going up the inside thigh of his right leg were six scars, each about the size of a bullet.
"Is that where you were shot," I asked curiously?
"Y'eah" he shrugged, "And I'm thankful that guy was a trained gunner."
I didn't know what he meant then but six years later when I was being trained as a U.S.Army infantryman I was taught to fire a machine gun in short bursts of six rounds. A seventh bullet could have ended Peppy's life.
Like a lot of WWII veterans, Peppy was reluctant to talk about the war. But after a summer of being badgered by a 15-year-old waterfront apprentice Peppy told this account of his disabling encounter with a machine gun in a dense German forest.
After being shot he said he fell in an out of consciousness. Once he recalls being attended by a GI medic and later by a German who was lossening a tourniquet on his leg.He passed out again. When he awoke he realized he was on a cot and he heard two men talking in German.
He thought oh no, I've been captured. I can't walk and I'm a prisoner. In perfect English he heard, "Hi soldier, how are we doing here?" Peppy opened his eyes to see an American doctor.
He was in a forward aid station and it was the talking Germans lying in adjoining beds who were the prisoners.
Peppy died a few years ago after a long and fruitful life of public service. He may be gone now as are most other World War II Veterans, but let us not forget what they did for their country. Thanks Peppy.
Malcolm Salter
Sarasota, Fl.
This week is the 56th Anniversary of D-Day...the landing of Allied Forces on the beaches of France to free the French and others from the occupation of Nazi Germany.
This Go Figure story is dedicated to the men and women of that era and remembering one soldier in particular who I had the privilege of meeting at a boy scout camp in 1948. His name was Malcolm Daniels and his camp nickname was Peppy.
We were both on the staff of Camp Yawgoog, a Boy Scout camp in Rockville R.I.Peppy, a disabled vet was the chef that summer and I was an apprentice on the waterfront. Peppy and I were tent-mates.
One afternoon while changing to go for a swim I noticed why he was disabled. Going up the inside thigh of his right leg were six scars, each about the size of a bullet.
"Is that where you were shot," I asked curiously?
"Y'eah" he shrugged, "And I'm thankful that guy was a trained gunner."
I didn't know what he meant then but six years later when I was being trained as a U.S.Army infantryman I was taught to fire a machine gun in short bursts of six rounds. A seventh bullet could have ended Peppy's life.
Like a lot of WWII veterans, Peppy was reluctant to talk about the war. But after a summer of being badgered by a 15-year-old waterfront apprentice Peppy told this account of his disabling encounter with a machine gun in a dense German forest.
After being shot he said he fell in an out of consciousness. Once he recalls being attended by a GI medic and later by a German who was lossening a tourniquet on his leg.He passed out again. When he awoke he realized he was on a cot and he heard two men talking in German.
He thought oh no, I've been captured. I can't walk and I'm a prisoner. In perfect English he heard, "Hi soldier, how are we doing here?" Peppy opened his eyes to see an American doctor.
He was in a forward aid station and it was the talking Germans lying in adjoining beds who were the prisoners.
Peppy died a few years ago after a long and fruitful life of public service. He may be gone now as are most other World War II Veterans, but let us not forget what they did for their country. Thanks Peppy.
Malcolm Salter
Sarasota, Fl.
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