Happy New Year

Week of December 30

Normally when my car is unlocked the trunk is unlocked but now the car is unlocked and I can’t get the trunk open even with a key. The garage owner tries several times-no go. “Take it to a locksmith,” he says.

The next morning I notice a lone key on the key rack. I try it. The trunk opens.



For most of my life I was trying the wrong keys to open the meaning of my life. Then I found the one key that stands alone. Who holds the key to your life?


“I am the way, the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me." (John 14:6)

A Christmas Eve Blessing

December 24

 

It is Christmas Eve and we are to give the “moment of sharing”  at First Church of Christ in Wethersfield, Ct. Joy has a bad case of laryngitis. We pray hard.

At the 5:30 service she is barely audible.  We pay harder.

 By the 7:30 her voice is a little louder. We give thanks and ask for continued strength.

At the 9:30 service her voice is stronger.We praise the Lord for His faithfulness.

At midnight she sounds like herself. I share wit h that congregation how the Lord has been answering our prayers this evening. There is applause for God.

 

Driving home Joy turns  to speak. Her voice is completely gone. It doesn’t return for two days.

 

"With men this is impossible but with God all things are possible." (Matthew 19:26)

Away from home at Christmas

Week of December 23

My first Christmas away from my home was courtesy of the U.S. Army. I was stationed in the Panama Canal Zone back when we had a troop presence there.

It was hot and plastic santas and cardboard snowmen didn't cut it for me who was use to a celebrating Christmas in New England. I was having a real pity party for myself. I even scoffed at some enterpizing soldiers who had parked a tank behind eight jeeps  harnessed together by a string of ammo belts. There was even a stuffed santa waving from the tank turret. Bar Humbug. This was a far cry from the Currier and Ives scenes of snow,sleighs and evergreens.

Despite my sullen mood I did attend a service in thebase chapel Christmas Eve. It was cool inside and the reading of familiar scripture and the singing of traditional carols was comforting. When I exited the chapel it was dark and overhead the stars were bright. Then it hit me. The first Christmas was held in a desert.

I don't recall what the sermon was that evening but for me the message was strikingly clear.

"Behold I bring you good tidings of great joy, which will be to all the people. For there is born to you this day  in the City of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord." (Luke 2:11)

Trying to get Home for Christmas

Week of December 17

I was looking forward to spending Christmas with my family. I had a break in my residency in clinical pastoral education at Walter Reed Army Medical Center in Washington D.C.,which meant I could spend two weeks in suynny Phoenix. But getting home was going to be difficult with inclement weather interupting air travel.

When I arrived at the airport, I found my flight had been canceled. Likehundreds of others,I waited in line for help getting out of Washington. My hope faded when the agent behind the counted looked like a high school student filling in as a part-time clerk during his holiday break.

When I explained my situation, he quickly suggested an alternate route. He told me there was a flight ready to go to Pittburgh. From there I could take a flight going to Los Angeles. He explained the LA flight would have to refuel in Phoenix due to headwinds and I could get off the plane there. My instructions were to tell the crew when boarding in Pittsburgh I wasa the one to be let off in Phoenix. Anything that would get me out of Washington was worth a try, so Pittsburgh it was.

I explained my sistuation to the flight attendant in Pittsburgh. She said she would let the crew know but told me this was a direct flight to LA. I took my seat. When we were almost ready for takeoff, the captain announced over the PA, "Would the guy who thinkshe is going to Phoenix please come forward."

All eyes were on me as I walked to the front of the plane. Everyone has a good laugh at my expense. The crew was adamant: They were not stopping in Phoenix but I could go to LA and then board another flight to Phoenix. I agreed to do that and again took my seat.

Everyone settled down for a quiet late evening flight. Well into the night, the captain came on the PA with an apology for disturbing everyone's sleep. He announced he had good news for one passenger and bad news for everybody else. He said fuel was low because of headwinds, so we were stopping in Phoenix to refuel. I wanted to gloat but held it to a grin. We parked out on the tarmac and the rear stair was lowered and I was taken to the terminal by a service truck.

I've never found a logical explanation for how the young counter peron in Washington knew the plane would have to refuel when the flight crew was certain it would not. That leaves the illogical, the mysterious. It was Christmas. Was he an angel. I'll never know.

Herald Knighton
Slidell La.

"Give Me a Sign"

Week of December 9

“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

Trusting God

 

Week of December 2

 

It had been 16 years since I visited any gynecologist.  I had no problems up until last year.  I had been having irregular bleeding and heavy periods.  I had several tests.... and they found that I had fibroids and a cyst on my ovary.  My doctor suggested in November a full hysterectomy. 

 

This would be my 5th surgery where they would be cutting my abdomen so I would have to sign a paper that I understand that there is more risk involved. I asked about keeping my ovaries so that I wouldn’t go into full menopause. My doctor said given my age and the cyst (that may require surgery to be removed in the future) she recommended taking everything.  So she told me to let her know what I wanted to do. 

 

 I struggled with this until the day before she had scheduled my surgery, January 30.  I had asked the Lord over and over again if I am doing the right thing.  To be honest with you I was afraid.  It was a pride issue also.  I didn’t want anyone to know, because it could look as though I was weak or defeated.   I chose not to tell anyone but my family. 

 

I had these thoughts that were not of God that were telling me that things would not go right and I would die on the operating table. I was upset and I

 

was up late at night worrying.  I picked up the Bible looking for an answer. I went to several church services seeking solace but the negative thoughts just continued worse than ever.  It was like the more positive I received the more negative I became. This whole thing was overwhelming.  Pastor always says that the battle is in the mind. Let me tell you what was going on in my head was a war. 

 

I had decided that I would go to women's group and afterwards I would call the doctor to tell her I decided to delay the surgery.  But when I went to women's group Sandy who has always been such a comfort to me and my family, praying for us etc., came up to me and told me she was happy to see me there and asked me if I would be now able to come on Tuesdays.  I told her what was going on and she began to talk and I knew the Lord was speaking to me through her because a peace and comfort came on me.  The attacks immediately stopped.  Sharon prayed for me and I was relaxed and knew what I had to do and it was right. I would have the operation. 

 

Everything went extremely well in surgery and I was up walking in 8 hours,  I went home two days later.  When I was in the hospital I had such comfort knowing that Jesus was there with me.  The nursing staff commented on how fast I was up and walking and I knew that it was the Lord giving me the ability to get around so quickly. 

 

When I returned  a week later to have the staples removed my doctor shared what she didn’t want to tell me on the telephone.  She said they tested everything that was taken out and found that I

had cancerous cells in the body of my uterus. This is an extremely fast growing cancer. Every time the uterus sheds, the cancer grows and starts spreading into the blood. The recommended procedure for  this is a full hysterectomy. What they found was that the cancerous cells were still intact and were concentrated in one area of the uterus 

 

My doctor told me that I was a lucky woman that someone was watching over me.  I said I know God is.  She said you are cured.  She kept saying that over and over.  We cried and held one another. 

 

My doctor had no idea that the cancer cells were there.  I asked her why it wasn't seen on all the tests.  She said that where it was located no test would have detected it.  I cried even more.  If I had not had this operation I would be looking at 5-6 months, that’s all.

 

If my doctor had not taken my ovaries she would have had to go back in and get them.  When cancer is present the best operation is actually cutting your abdomen (what I had) because when they do the other surgery there is a risk of dropping cells. 

 

What an awesome God we have.  Not only did He heal me of something that would have killed me but also He didn't even let me know that I had it and my family never had to go through that worry and anguish.  I do not have to know everything.  I just have to trust Him.  No glory can be given to any test or doctor but only to God. He knew. No one else did.  I am so grateful words can’t describe.

 

Jackie Harmon

Richmond ,Virginia

Unbelievable Prayer Response

 Week of November 25

Bill and Cindy are a wonderful Christian couple. For years Bill has taught Latin in the Manchester Public School System. Cindy was a youth counselor when she first met Bill.  They are married, have six children.

.

The Pfeiffers have a modest home for themselves and their children. Despite having a large family they opened their home to unwed pregnant girls who had nowhere to go and wanted to deliver their unborn babies. The family agreed on the need to find a separate place  and expand its reach to anyone seeking deeper spiritual meaning.

 

Bill said the whole family discussed what an ideal retreat center would look like. Each of the children had things they wanted. The younger children wanted an indoor pool to swim in year round and not have to worry about leaves or cold weather. The youngest boy wanted "a neat robot thing that cleans the pool." One teenager wanted a tennis court and another a jute box. Bill wished for a room large enough to house a small chapel and Cindy visualized a spacious kitchen suitable for volunteers to prepare meals for groups. 

 

 Bill, an ordained priest, lead the family in prayer and presented these requests to the Lord. Bill then suggested to the children that they give up something they like, to show their seriousness in making these prayer requests. After a lively discussion the children decide to give up watching television.

 

Almost a year goes  by. No television. No retreat center. “Then came God's answer,” Bill said. He receives a call from a friend who reports a local bank had foreclosed on an estate. A developer had built the mansion as his personal residence during the real estate boom of the early 1980’s.The housing bubble burst, the developer had committed suicide and the bank was left with the property. It had remained vacant for more than a year and the bank “is anxious to unload this white elephant.”

 

The Pfeiffer family went to take a look. A long secluded driveway leads into the property that includes 23 acres, mostly wooded. A large two-story house sits on a hill overlooking woods and a pond. In front of the house there is a paved area for parking and a lawn with a flagpole. Adjacent to the house is a hard surface tennis court and down the hill is a carriage house large enough to serve as a chapel.

 

The sprawling contemporary house has a rustic interior with four bedrooms, three baths, and a
spacious dining room off of a large kitchen with a commercial size stove that is suitable for cooking for groups.

 

There is an indoor pool and yes, it is equipped with a self-cleaning robot. One thing the Pfeiffers hadn't requested was a party room with a built in wet bar. However, in one corner of this room stands a shiny jute box.

 

"And whatever things you ask in prayer, believing, you will receive."  (Matthew 21:22)

 

Bill Pfeiffer

Hebron Connecticut

Happy Thanksgiving

November 22

 

We pack up the kids, the hot dishes and slide off to the church parish house. 

There are about fifty adults and children  at this neighborhood thanksgiving. We stand hand in hand giving thanks for all God’s bounty. We break bread and share the Lord’s Supper before our own.

We arrived as strangers but we leave filled with fellowship with others who are grateful for God’s blessings. This is a Thanksgiving  I shall long remember.

 

Let us come before His presence with thanksgiving; Let us shout joyfully to Him with psalms.
 (Psalm 95:2

Colleen's Accident

 Week of November 18

 

One morning before leaving for high school, God put it on my heart that I was going to be in a car accident that day. I told my older sister who urged me not to go to school.

 

I told her I had to go today because if I was absent or late one more day I was risking being expelled. Besides I had stayed up late finishing the hair on my Raggedy Ann Doll for my Home Economics class that had to be turned in this morning in order to get credit.

 

My friend Robin drove up in her Riviera at the usual time. While my sister kept telling me not to temp fate by going to school, I prayed over the car asking God for his protection. When I got into the car with my books and Raggedy Ann doll I noticed a St. Christopher Medal hanging from the rear view mirror. It hadn’t been there before.

 

“Who gave you the medal Robin, your mother?”

 

“My grandmother.”

 

That’s neat I thought, we can use all the protection possible, especially today. Everything went well until we entered the Natchez Highway and Robin speeded up. We hit a patch of black ice and slid off the highway and smashed onto a cement irrigation

 

box that propelled the car backwards. We flipped completely over three times before coming to a stop right side up. I passed out. I came too with Robin yelling my name.

 

I was crunched up against the mangled door and window that was shattered and bowed from the impact. Wedged between my head and the window was the Raggedy Ann Doll. The hair of the doll was caught at the top of the window and the doll acted as cushion for me preventing serious injury.

 

Robin and I crawled out of the car and ran off to the first house we could see to call our parents. When we returned to the car a state trooper was standing by our wreck. He said when he saw the damage and nobody in the car he thought our bodies had already been taken to the morgue. He told us we shouldn’t have left the scene of an accident.

 

Our parents arrived and later they drove us to school but nobody ever said anything about being late that day.

 

Colleen Jorgenson

 Veradale, Washington

Secret to a Succesful Marriage

 

     Secret to a Successful Marriage

 

Weeks of October 28, November 4 and 11

 

Joy stands in the doorway to our little office and leaning on the doorframe and says, "I feel overwhelmed." I rise and take her by the hand saying, "You know where we go when we feel overwhelmed?"  We walk to the adjacent bedroom and kneel by the bed and pray.

Keeping God at the center of our marriage and keeping Him our focus and making each other a priority has made for a lasting and loving relationship.

 

“Let each one of you in particular so love his own wife as himself, and let the wife see that she respects her husband.”(Ephesians 5:33)

Taken from Gods Way in One Life..

Mal & Joyous Salter
Sarasota Fl.

Lost Keys

Week of October 21

 

It was my junior year of college and I was studying abroad in Strasbourg, France. My roommate was another American student.  One evening she realized she had misplaced her keys. She began frantically searching the room, growing more frustrated and angry with each place she looked and not finding her keys.

 

I have a habit (as silly as it may seem) when I lose something to ask the Lord for guidance as to where it may be. My roommate was not a Christian so I left the room and walked down the hallway toward the floor bathroom.

 

I prayed, “Lord, Elizabeth doesn’t know You as I do, and she doesn’t know to ask You where her keys are. But I know she’s very upset and worked up, so Lord, I am asking You for her that You might help her find her keys.”

 

When I returned to the room, a calmer Elizabeth said, “You’ll never believe it! Shortly after you left, I looked under my mattress and there’s my keys.”

 Why am I not surprised.

 Marybeth Henry

Arlington, Virginia

I need a car

 

Week of October 14

 

When I was 24 and single, I was working at a dead-end job and in debt. In an attempt to get a handle on my spending I attended a Good $ense Finance course at my church (Willow Greek in Barrington Illinois, a suburb northwest of Chicago.)

 

I volunteered for Willow’s cars program, which repairs used, donated cars and made them available for single moms. I like working on engines and besides my old Honda was on its last legs and I hoped to get some tips on how to keep it going.

 

About this time I received in the mail a promotion from my credit union informing me that I was pre-approved for a car loan up to $7500. The wheels in my head began to turn. I figured if I were going to get a better job I would need a better car. Armed with my car loan approval, I drove off to a used car dealer. I showed the promotion flyer to the salesman and we went off into the lot. Funny how every car he showed me was for sale at $7500.

 

I came home excited about the prospect of buying a better car. That week at church I shared my excitement about buying a better car with my Good $ense teacher. I told him about the $7500 loan

approval and I showed him a car I had circled in the Auto Trader.

 

“God does not want you to go further into debt,” my teacher said, “why not trust him for the car.”

 His words, while spoken softly, hit me like a cold shower. I bristled but he was right, I had agreed not to take out any more loans. At the Good $ense course I had developed a spending plan which was designed to help me live within my income and to pay down debt. We were taught that good stewardship of the resources we have honors God.

 

When I returned home I threw the Auto Trader in the trash. I was going to trust God. At that moment I felt God was in the next room whispering, “I love you.” He didn’t solve my car problem that day but He showed His presence to me.

 The next day I received a call ‘out of the blue’ from the leader of the Cars Team who said he was calling to see how I was doing.

 

That weekend I volunteered at the church cars program and I mentioned to the chief mechanic how my transmission was slipping and I was having a hard time getting in or out of second gear. I also mentioned I didn’t have any money for a better car right now and I wondered if he could help me fix my old Honda.

 

I was surprised when he didn’t ask me for more details about my aging wreck. He just walked off motioning with his arm for me to follow. We went to the back of the lot and we stopped at an old rusted out twelve- year- old Buick station wagon.

 

“It’s not pretty,” he said “And it is too far gone to give to a single mom to transport her kids. But it has a strong engine, reasonably good tires, and the transmission still works. Why don’t you drive it home.”

 

God did provide. I ended up driving that car for nearly two years until I could afford a better one.

 

Peter Buchan

West Barrington, Il.

Ran Out of Gas

Week of October 7

 

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 going 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 ago 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, Florida

It started with a Shipwreck

Week of October 1

 

“It all started when I was shipwrecked off the coast of Africa.” This is how my dad started every bedtime story when my little sister and I were growing up. He always made the stories up according to his mood and while the stories were always different, the beginning was always the same; he was shipwrecked off the coast of Africa. We loved his stories.

 

  He had lived a life full of both hard work and temperance. He was a stonemason, didn't smoke, and he drank only a tiny glass of family home-made wine occasionally. He walked about 5 miles daily to relieve the loneliness and grief after my mom died  from cancer. My dad was a spirit filled man who prayed the Rosary daily on his knees.

 

Dad had been ill for about a year while hospitals misdiagnosed him. Finally we got him to Mass General Hospital where he was diagnosed with stage 4 leukemia. He was bleeding internally and that spiked the stroke that killed him. He was 75 when he passed.

 

I should tell you that in my family we have  instances of contact by guides on the other side so we always expect to get word that our loved ones “arrive safely.”  So when my dad died my sister and I expected to hear from him.

 

A short while after the funeral my sister and I were driving separate cars in two different states (Connecticut and Massachusetts) and we happened to be listening to the same program on Public Radio. Faith Middleton was interviewing an author and asked him to read a page from his newly published book. His first words were, “It all started when I was shipwrecked off the coast of Africa.”

I called my sister that evening and we both knew that it was a message from our story telling dad.

 

I’ve had one other contact from my dad. There came a time several months after his death when I was overcome with grief and was weeping for him in my bed, calling him in fact, wanting him to be near. At the time, I was lying on my left side in the bed, my head on the pillow. I suddenly heard him call my name, loudly and directly, into my right ear as though he were standing next to me.  After I heard my name, my right ear 'pinged' and a ringing sound began in an odd way. Not my left ear, nor did both ears 'ping' -- only the right one into which his voice came.  I knew immediately it was my dad and I was at peace.

 

I hope that these stories I have shared give others as much comfort as I received experiencing them.

 

Diane Valentine Reading
Middletown, Connecticut

Strange find in smouldering ruins

 Week of September 24

 The house seemed quieter than usual. Michael, my seventeen year old, had just left in the car for the store to return some soda cans and my mother, who lives with us, was away visiting my sister. 

 

It was “Maddy” and I relaxing in the living room  in the glow of the candlelight. “Maddy,” our miniature Schnauzer, was sprawled on the rug where he usually is when I’m in the room. I had no clue how this tranquil evening was about to change.

 

It was about nine on a work night so I decided to take my shower and get ready for bed.I normally take long showers but on this night I cut it short. I don’t know why but it is a good thing I did. As soon as I turned off the shower I heard the smoke alarms screaming and the dog scratching frantically at the bathroom door. I put on a pair of slacks, grabbed a towel and without thinking flung open the bathroom door. A thick wall of black smoke rushed in and I instinctively gasped—mistake. I choked, fell backward s and fainted.

 

I don’t know what happened in the next minute or so. My first recollection is I’m standing outside, still

 

wrapped in a towel staring at my house that is completely engulfed in flames. Maddy is with me barking frantically but I have no idea how either of us escaped that overpowering smoke. I rushed to my neighbor’s house and Marcel took one look at the inferno behind me and called 911.

 

Michael had just left the store when he heard the sirens of the fire trucks. He pulled his car over to let the fire engines pass and as is his habit he raised his hand and offered a little prayer for those in distress. Little did he know that he was praying for his mother and his own house?

 

When the fireman arrived it seemed half the town was right behind them. The fire fighters did everything they could but the house was too far-gone. I never saw anything burn so quickly. Like many New England homes built in the 19^th century the walls had been stuffed with newspapers and hay to provide insulation. Our old colonial went up like a tinderbox. All we could do was stand helplessly and watch our home burn.

 

A school friend of Mike’s pointed out an eerie sight. Framed in the window of an upstairs bedroom was the velvet portrait of Jesus hanging on the wall over  Michael’s bed and illuminated  by the flickering flames below.

 

 We learned latter that the fire was started probably when the dog knocked over a candle on a table by the window that fell igniting a phone book left on the ataman. The window curtain caught on fire and the flames literally raced through the walls.

 

The next day, after spending a short night at my friend’s house, Michael and I returned to the ruins. There was only one wall standing. We found only two things not completely destroyed by the fire. One was a blanket my mother had crocheted although it reeked of smoke. The other was the framed portrait of Jesus that was still hanging on the one remaining wall.

 

When we took the portrait down there was no evidence of the fire. It didn’t even have a smoky smell to it. How do you explain that?  

 

Sylvia Jarvis

Sturbridge, Massachusetts

A boy challenges God

 

Week of September 16

 

 

It started like any other day for Jay, an eight-year-old going on nine thank you, but what happened that afternoon would change his life in a flash.

 

Jay was growing up in a new subdivision in Woodhaven Woods, Michigan where his dad was serving as a minister. The homes were new and had flat back yards with no fences and all backed into a wood line fifty to seventy yards deep. It was a great place for an eight year old to grow up and play.

 

Most of the trees were hardwoods, like oak and maple, tall and straight. All except one as Jay remembers. That tree was forked about four feet up. One fork was badly decayed and hollow near its base while the other was solid and healthy.

 

Jay remembers the afternoon was very windy, lots of threatening clouds but it wasn’t cold and it wasn’t raining. He was standing in his yard when he challenged God. He doesn’t know what prompted him. He just did. What goes through and eight year olds mind anyway? Jay tells it this way.

 

“ I saw the trees swaying and said, ‘Ok God. You knock over a tree and I will never doubt you again.’ Within seconds there was a loud crack. Even though

 

I was several hundred yards away but I could see it was the forked tree that had fallen. Some parents gathered around the forked tree and I went over to see. It was then I saw that the solid half of the forked tree had cracked all the way to the ground and toppled. Surprisingly, the decayed half was still standing. You could look right threw and see light on the other side. I don’t know what was holding that tree up. It looked as if it would fall over at any minute so the parents were keeping the children at a safe distance.

 

I thought about it later. God knocked over the strong but held up the weak. You could read into that. The weak half of that tree never did fall on its own. Some men cut it down later to insure it wouldn’t fall on anyone.

 

I didn’t tell anyone about this experience for the longest time. I guess I thought that was between God and me. Even now, years later I have only shared this experience with a few others for fear of being seen as bragging or worse. But there is no doubt in my mind that God felled the strong half of that tree that day.

 

Jay Hessler
Woodhaven, MI

Give Me a Sign

 

Give Me A Sign

Week of September 10 

“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

Pain and Healing

Week of September 1

 

THE APPROACH OF THE FIRST ANNIVERSARY OF MY SON STEVEN'S DEATH , I HAD BOOKED A TRIP TO TAHITI WITH A FELLOW CO-WORKER.    I WANTED TO BE FAR AWAY FROM EVERYTHING .   THE MORNING OF THE DATE 09/01, I LET MY FRIEND KNOW THAT I NEEDED TO BE ALONE FOR A WHILE AND DECIDED TO GO DOWN TO THE BEACH.  AS  AN AFTER-THOUGHT I REACHED FOR MY CAMERA. 

AS I SAT VERY PEACEFUL LOOKING OUT TOWARD THE WATER,OUT OF THE CORNER OF MY EYE, I SAW A FIGURE  ON HORSEBACK,IN THE WATER,  AS THE HORSE DREW NEARER, THERE WAS A YOUNG MAN,BARE TO THE WAIST, WITH LONGISH BLOND HAIR.  I FELT MY SELF SUDDENLY ALERT AND AS HE WAS JUST IN FRONT OF ME HE TURNED HIS HEAD AND SMILED, NODDING HIS HEAD...I THOUGHT MY MIND WAS PLAYING TRICKS ON ME AS HE WAS THE IMAGE OF STEVEN. 

I SLOWLY REACHED FOR MY CAMERA AND TOOK A PICTURE...THE CALMNESS THAT CAME OVER ME WAS BEAUTIFUL.. I REMEMBER THINKING , NO MATTER HOW FAR YOU TRY TO AVOID THE REALITY, IT WILL FOLLOW YOU.

WHEN I WENT BACK TO THE HUT,MY FRIEND, ASKED IF I WAS OK AND I REMEMBER TELLING WHAT OCCURED AND STATING THAT I WAS FINE AND COMFORTED, BUT IF WHEN I WENT BACK HOME AND DEVELOPED THE FILM AND THERE WAS NOTHING THERE...I WOULD REALLY FREAK OUT.

 IT TURNED OUTTHE PICTURE WAS REAL AND ANYONE I SHOWED IT TO SAID , "THAT'S STEVEN"

 

A FEW YEARS AFTER THAT EPISODE, I FELT IT WAS TIME FOR ME TO GO TO VERMONT WHERE STEVEN DIED.  I ONLY KNEW THE NAME OF THE TOWN  AND THE NAME TERRIBLE MT.  A FRIEND INSISTED THEY DRIVE ME THERE.  WE APPROACHED THE TOWN AND AS WE CAME AROUND A CURVE IN THE ROAD, I ASKED MY FRIEND TO STOP AND ASK A MAN RAKING LEAVES IF HE KNEW WHERE THIS PLACE WAS.  HE POINTED TO THE ROAD WE WERE JUST PARKED BY AND WE WENT.  I WALKED AROUND THE PLACE WHERE THE HOUSE BURNED BY MY SELF AND LOOKED AT THE MAGNIFICENT VIEW MY SON HAD SEEN AND FELT AT PEACE.  AS I GOT BACK IN THE CAR, I ASKED MY FRIEND TO TURN ON THE RADIO AS WE DROVE DOWN THE MT.

FIRST SONG WAS THE BEATLES "LET IT BE" AND THE VERY NEXT THE GRATEFUL DEADS "RIPPLES IN STILL WATERS".  BOTH OF THESE SONGS WE SUNG AT MY SONS FUNERAL....AGAIN A SENSE OF CONTACT THAT HAS NEVER BEEN BROKEN WITH STEVEN HAS HELPED ME FACE MANY OF LIFES STRUGGLES.. I AM TRULY GRATEFUL TO HAVE EXPERIENCED THESE MIRACLES IN MY LIFE.

PEG SALTER
FARMINGTON, CT.

Issac follows Katrina's Path

 Week of Aug. 27

With Isaac churning toward New Orleans oddly on the anniversary week of  hurricaine  Katrina our thoughts returned to Brad Zwetchke's story that he shared with Go Figure America. Here it is again.

Brad’s celebrity status is that he was the first golfer to lose a national title to Tiger Woods.

The year was 1991 and Brad Zwetschke was ranked number two behind Tiger in the U.S. Junior Amateur golf. In the championship match Brad was three up after five holes, and two up at the turn at Bay Hill in Orlando. It would be the first of many well publicized comebacks for Tiger who tied the match and defeated Brad on the first playoff hole.

“Coming out of school all I wanted to do was play golf and party. I lived the wild life.”  Along the way he met Christina Mauldin, a preacher’s daughter from the South side of Chicago. Brad is also from Chicago. Within a year and a half they were married. “She thought she was marrying a golf professional and I thought I was marrying an entertainer from Black Television.” (Christina had done a stint on the program Heart & Soul.)

“ My wife is a strong Christian and my loyal supporter. She accompanied me on tour, which was arduous, lots of travel and expensive. Sometimes we slept in our van because we couldn’t afford the hotel prices.

“In November 2001 we were touring in Australia and we went into a little church in Brisbane. The preacher’s message was based on John 21. The message spoke to me especially when Jesus asks Peter, ‘Do you love me as much as these’ (referring to the fish Peter and his friends had just caught).  I identified with Peter who was being asked to give up fishing. I felt I was being asked to put down my clubs.

Three months later I was driving to the Canadian Tour Qualifying Tournament when I heard a message on the radio quoting John 21. Again I felt the message speaking to me. I played in the tournament but I did not qualify. My heart wasn’t in the game anymore. I quit golf.

“With the encouragement of my father-in law I enrolled in New Orleans Theological Seminary.

  “He too had been called to the ministry by John 21.”

In August 2005, four months before Brad was to graduate, Katrina devastated New Orleans. With two children and Christina eight months pregnant, Brad borrowed a neighbor’s van and fled to Beatrice Alabama where they knew a pastor who took them in.

 “We lost everything as our apartment was completely flooded. But God had spared our family. Then another kind of flood hit.  I could not stop the flow of gifts of clothing, food and furniture that poured in on us. It still hasn’t subsided.

“When it was time for Christina to have our fourth child we moved to Bradenton , Florida to be close to the doctor who had delivered are other children. I took a job as student intern in evangelism and finished my final semester at the seminary on line. In December 2006 my classmates and I received our degrees. Later I became the voluntary chaplain to the Cincinnati Reds farm team then in Sarasota.

“God has used everything in my life for His purposes. Golf  had been my idol…now I’m pictured in golf magazines holding a Bible. It took a while for me to accept God’s forgiveness and to accept his grace. That has been huge for me.

“Tiger became a golf king. My notoriety as being the first to lose a national title to Tiger still brings invitations to speak at golf dinners and men’s retreats where I get to tell people about the King of Kings.”

 Brad Zwetschke

( Brad Zwetschke is now a U.S. Army Chaplain-Ed)

“Simon do you love Me more the these?”
“Yes Lord, You know that I love You.”
“Then feed My lambs.”  John21:l5

A Confirmation

 Week of August 18

Like most empty-nesters, we had two cars:  A luxury sedan for Bill and a sporty SUV for me.  When Bill was diagnosed with brain cancer and had to be driven to chemo treatments, he became the passenger in the sedan…the smooth leather seats made it easy for him to pivot while getting in and out.  The cloth seats in my vehicle didn’t quite do the trick. He just plain enjoyed being in that car!

            As Bill’s condition worsened, we realized that we no longer needed two cars, so our youngest son was given my little car.  When Bill entered hospice care at home, I drove the sedan on the days I was able to go to the office for part of the day and for all the usual errands.

            After Bill died, I tried hard to like his car as much as I had my “old” one.  It was a lovely automobile, and as much as I appreciated its features, it just didn’t please me.  Another son with two children needed to replace a troublesome car, so I knew I could pass the sedan along to him and keep it in the family. Bill would be pleased to have some grandchildren riding in it!

            So a trip to the dealer produced a sporty little red sedan that won my heart right away.  No trade, not much paperwork, and the car would be ready for pickup the following day.  That night, of course, Doubt came to visit.  Had I been callous to Bill’s memory not to cherish his car?  Was it my duty to keep it spiffy and on the road for as long as it would last?  And more questions—but I decided to go ahead and claim the new car.

            When I saw it sitting on the lot, all shiny and cute and waiting for me, I knew I’d been guided to the purchase and that all was well.  How did I know?  The numbers on MY (not Bill’s) car’s license plate had been 5603.  The brand new plates, supplied by the dealer, ended in 5604.  A most logical progression that my engineer husband would certainly have appreciated!

Rosemarie Seewagen

Hilton, NY

Led by the Spirit

Week of August 12
...being confident of this, that He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus- Philippians 1:6 (NIV)

Some people think I'm a stodgy, cranky, Yankee. Well, they are right-but that's how God restored me. I wasn't always so conservative.

I spent the sixties and seventies searching through drugs, radical politics, rebellion and anger. I spent my adolescence as a ski-bum, working on a riverboat and looking for extremes. I rode motorcycles and did every reckless thing to excess. I believed that life was just an existential malaise of meaningless, random events and if there was no reason to life, I thought I would at least make it exciting. I fought the system, institutions and all the things my generation rejected. I joined the SDS (Students for a Democratic Society) and I was tear gassed more than once. I tried a lot of things to fill that God-shaped vacuum at my center, but nothing fit. Atheism was my religion. Nothing meant anything in light of death.

Then things I couldn't explain began to happen. I bought a Bible and actually began reading it. God was laying the groundwork.

When I decided to get married, I chose the church to which my family had belonged for centuries- First Church of Christ, Wethersfield. In order to be married there my fiancée and I had to join. The church preaches the Word of God in the Spirit.

My fiancée's relatives, who are from a long line of Christian evangelists in China, were praying for me. So were the faithful at First Church. I believe all these prayers prompted God to save me.

The Holy Spirit began to move. It was as though the Bible had been written solely for me. Every time I opened it, the passage I read spoke directly to my needs. Every church bulletin, letter or post card from church seemed to minister to me as though I was the only person for whom it had been written. Sermons seemed prepared just for me as did the worship. And I saw the Holy Spirit in people's faces at every church event. Jesus was everywhere.

One night I even had a dream that one of the pastors at the church told me "you will receive a message from your shoe." My cat awakened me, I got up, and went about dressing quietly. I remembered the dream and looked down at my shoes but there was no message. I did notice my suit was wrinkled and changed into another, which was a different color than the first one. Now I had to change my shoe to match my suit. As I was leaving the house I noticed a sticky note stuck to the heel of my shoe. On the sticky note was a Bible verse. " I am the Vine, you are the branches, abide with me."

I've been to the peaks and struggled with valleys. I've had doubts and downs and faith and ups. God is slowly and I must say, painfully at times, remaking me in His Son’s image.

I know God is at work in me, both to will and to work for His good pleasure. He is crucifying my fleshly ways, as I learn to be led by the Spirit.

I am confident of this, "that He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus." (Philippians 1:6 NIV)

Jesus Christ saved me from myself. Praise God.

Leigh Standish

Wethersfield, Connecticut.

John's Miracle

Week of August 5

In mid July 2009 on the island of Kauai, Hawaii I became very sick. I had been healthy all my 63 years and this was a new experience for me. After a week of high fever, aches and waking up with the sweats I called my doctor friend in Montana. After hearing my symptoms Dan said I needed to see a local doctor.

I did and he thought it was a sinus infection. After a few days I started getting vertigo, and seeing double. I decided if I didn’t feel better in the morning I would go to the emergency room.

In the morning, still feeling lousy, I took a cab from where I lived outside of Koloa to the hospital on Kauai where I was admitted with what was originally thought to be double pneumonia. It was not.

While my lungs sounded clear x-rays revealed two white clouds. I was transferred by air taxi to the Staub Medical Center in Honolulu. Here I tested positive for Wegener’s granulomatosis, a rare autoimmune disease that attacks the organs of the body. I my case it was the lungs.

I do not remember of lot of the initial weeks in intensive care as I was drugged and in an induced coma. I was not expected to live very long and my wife and three daughters were called. They came from Montana to visit me for the last time. I did not know they were even there.

My body weight went from 167 to 132. Massive doses of steroids were given me as part of my treatment. When I awoke from the coma I was on a ventilator and had all sorts of tubes in my body.

I was literally a rag doll and could only move the muscles in my neck. An emergency button to call for help was draped over my shoulder so I could press it with my neck.

I remember thinking. How am I going to possibly come back from this. I believed I couldn’t and became totally depressed.

The bed I was in was a special physical therapy bed which could be set to do a wave like motion under the body. It wasn’t suppose to be on for me but it was. The motion caused me to move sideways and my body became lodged between the mattress and the sideboard. I was being squeezed with my arms dangling helplessly over the side of the bed. I could not move my head to press the call button. I was crying out “nurse help…nurse help!”

Then a strange thing happened. It was as if my spirit had left my body. I was sitting on the edge of a small stream with tall wet grass along the banks. A mist was rising from the water. I knew if I just lay down in the wet grass it would be over. No more struggles. There would be peace. My spirit was ready to totally give up.

Then a hand gripped my shoulder. I “sprung back.”

A voice said, “Can I help you?”

After getting me help I found out that the man who touched my shoulder was the pastor at the hospital. He told me that he received a call 30 minutes earlier from my friend Jim in White Fish, Montana who asked that the Chaplain to look me up.

From that moment on I never had depression again. In fact, during the rest of my hospital stay I was even joyful. My spirit was strong and I made dramatice progress physically. Within two weeks I was completely off the ventilator and oxygen.

I still could not mover a muscle but my physical therapist thought my muscles were ‘firing’ and I believed him. He began by massaging my muscles and moving my limbs.

I was moved from Intensive Care to the sixth floor of the hospital where they put patients who are closed to being released. I worked hard and talked and joked with almost every aide and nurse on that floor.

One day the doctors looked at me and my progress and said “John you are a living miracle.” They suggested I be transferred to a nursing home in Montana where I would be near friends and my support system.

Flying Nurses International flew with me from Honolulu to Salt Lake City and onto Glacier International Airport in Kalispell, Mt.

It wasn’t until I was back in Montana that I learned that my doctor friend Dan and Jim, who I knew from my appraisal business, had been meeting and praying for me daily throughout my ordeal.

You see, the doctors were right, I am a living miracle. And I was right, I could not come back on my own. I have no doubt that God through His grace spared my life and used my friends and that Chaplain to help me back.

John Woods

Kauai, Hawaii

Special Jump Start

 Week of July 29

It’s been a long day and we are all tired by the time we land at Tampa International Airport. We still have another hour to drive home to Sarasota.

The exhilaration of seeing our son graduate earlier that day from Navy boot camp at Great Lakes, Illinois is fading and exhaustion is taking over.

 By the time Marcia and I retrieve the bags including her mother’s luggage, it is nearly midnight. Now the challenge is to find our car in the color coded parking garage with its monorail system and stops named for aviation pioneers.

Alleluia! We find it on the first try.

The bags are loaded in the trunk, mom flops into the back seat, Marcia and I in the front. I turn the key in the ignition and nothing. It won’t start. I try again. No luck.

“Now what”, asks a voice from the back seat?

Marcia announces, “We can call triple A and wait for them to find someone to come out and help us, or we can pray right here and right now.”

There is a groan and a barely audible “Oh No,” from the back seat.

Marcia places her hands firmly on the dash and says, “Lord—its late, we are tired-you know our situation- we need your help to start this car and get us home in one piece. Thank You Lord.” 

The car starts on the very next try.

“I’m a believer now,” says the voice from the back seat.

Robert (Bud) DesRosiers

Sarasota,FL,