My friend and colleague Dr. David Plaster died March 6, 2010. He was sixty years old – not old at all since I hit 70 in February. He was the third of four to die in the past three months. My brother died December 22, 2009 – age 75; a dear friend February 3, 2010 age 73 with ALS – I watched him die; and now Dave – age 60, March 6, 2010. All these are “too young” by today’s standards but God has a different standard, I guess. Then the list of those I know or knew increased by one within the last week with the death of a former pastor at age 83. At least he was “a ripe old age”. But this article is not about death and dieing. It’s about God’s superintending of our lives. It’s a fairly long story so please, dear reader; bear with me. I will try not to be boring or go into trivial details but the story lies in the details.
The story starts in 1962. It is a story of my work experience mostly but the underlying part is how God had/has a plan in mind and we can’t know the ending from the beginning - usually... Here is my story:
1. Working for American Hard Rubber Co Akron, Ohio 1962 - layoff in 1965
2. Working for BF Goodrich 1965 – 1972 – transferred to Dallas 1969 (nearly broke up our marriage… another story…)
3. Begin working in Aircraft Industry – Bell Helicopter 1973
4. Layoff Bell due to the overthrow of the Shah of Iran – work for Vought Aircraft 1982 – Vought partnered with Northrop Grumman on B-2 Program – Didn't know that.
5. Immediately Assignment to B-2 Strategic Bomber Program
6. Transfer to Palmdale California 1987 – 2 ½ years (again impacted marriage – but God sustained us – now almost 50 years…)
7. Enter my contacts with Dave Plaster –
8. Elected to Grace College/Seminary Board work with Dave for 13 of the 15 years on the board
9. Back to 1987 – through contact with Board of Trustees, learn that Dave needs a place to live while getting his Doctorate at Dallas Theological Seminary – Hey, why not come and live at my house in Hurst, Texas – only about 20 miles from DTS and – free of charge? I'm living on per Diem in California so he can live in my house in Texas and keep watch over the place...
Now you must understand there is absolutely no intent for anyone to say – “My oh my, isn’t Holsinger a generous soul!” But ask me, “Does God work in mysterious ways his wonders to perform?” (Holsinger non-literal translation…) I am fully convinced that God had Dave in mind when I got the layoff notice from American Hard Rubber in Akron Ohio in 1965 - went to work for BF Goodrich Co who transferred me to Texas - lost my job and went to work in the Aircraft Industry so I could be assigned to the super secret B-2 Bomber Project so I could be transferred to California for the time Dave needed to complete his studies in Dallas at Dallas Theological Seminary to complete his Doctorate. Tell me that wasn't God at work! Only took a little over 20 years for His plan to become visible 1962 - 1987. And we think He isn’t in control? I believe He is! Give God the Glory!
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Friday, January 8, 2010
Alligator Skin July 8 - December 22, 2009
I just re-read my post for July 8, 2009 and am taken with how short a time ago that was. Only about five months. My brother died December 22 of this year. I guess the simplest way to say it is that he just got tired of the struggle. He stopped the dialysis a few weeks before this, but finally made up his mind to "let go". He was gone in two days. Merciful. After five years in a home and two on dialysis I guess he just had enough. So -- bye Bro -- see you in Glory.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Deacon of the Month
Our church has initiated a "Deacon of the Month" feature. As DOM the selected deacon is asked to lead in congregational prayer, read Scripture, Testify to God's Goodness, etc. during the month's services. In addition the selected deacon is eligible to submit an article for the church paper. Well, that's the most fun of all the stuff, so I thought I'd publish it here. Your comments and observations are solicited and welcome... Thanks in advance... Terry, DOM for October 2009...
Honors and Criticism
By Terrell Royce Holsinger (Senior)
AKA – “Terry”
Why all that you ask – good question. I am not going to step up on my soap box, but just want to make one small point that we really don’t know people very well. If you saw an obituary for “Terrell Royce Holsinger” without a picture, would you be certain it was me? Maybe. Maybe not. Small point, but we really don’t know each other very well, do we? It’s part of our culture. Like most of you probably don’t know that Sandy and I have a son who is six foot five, has a full beard, is a renowned Caver and lives in the
My real topic is that the idea of Honor versus Criticism was brought home this month with the SGBC Deacons decision to name me the first “Deacon of the Month”. I really don’t like being first in things like this, but that’s how the cookie crumbles. That notwithstanding, I am grateful for the honor and indeed it is an honor to be singled out by one’s peers for special recognition even if it isn’t a “competition” of any kind. It’s good to hear the accolades. And one more interesting thing, I believe, is that those things that we do are done in a spirit of “it’s not a big deal. That’s what we are supposed to do – aren’t we?” – Good works, that is. (Check out the Book of James)
But the whole experience brought to mind that we are probably geared to being more comfortable with criticisms than we are with honors. Do you find that interesting? I suppose that could be because we don’t hear those words (Honors) as often as we hear criticisms. Indeed the honor comments far outnumbered the criticisms over the past four weeks. Your kindness and thank-you’s were appreciated very much. And I believe every one was sincere – except for one or two good-natured jabs. They were taken for what they were – good natured jabs – oh, I already said that…
So thank-you Shady Grove Baptist Church, North Richland Hills, Texas for allowing me to serve our Risen Lord and Savior in this capacity in our church. There are times when the service is difficult, but the rewards far outnumber the difficulties, especially when we know we are in God’s Will in doing what we do. God bless you all – Real Good.
Thanks,
Terry
Thursday, July 30, 2009
WHAT LANGUAGE DO YOU SPEAK?
WHAT LANGUAGE DO YOU SPEAK? -THREE STORIES OF THANKFULNESS
I’m not sure I remembered his name right or not, but I remember Thran. Whenever I see a Vietnamese I think of the Viet Nam War and those little people... His coat size was probably a boy’s medium or men’34 – no bigger. Looked like a washed denim - three button - top button buttoned - stylish - nice denim pants, etc. He probably didn’t weigh 100 pounds. Nice looking boy, probably about 18 – 20 years old, max, maybe only 17.
He was with about 8-10 other passengers coming out of the International Arrivals Area at D/FW International Airport in July 2009. I work there at Gate 22-D International Arrivals as an Airport Ambassador – from 8:00 AM to 12:00 Noon on Tuesdays. The flight from Tokyo Narita (TJN) arrives at 9:00 AM every day in typical Japanese timeliness. Sometimes it takes a long time for all the passengers to get through customs and security. That was the case this day. It was 11:45 AM when Thran and his friends came through the exit doors. Everybody except he seemed to know where they were going. He looked hopelessly lost…
His connecting flight to The University of Alabama (probably on a scholarship?) to study Business Administration in Montgomery - departure time - 11:45 AM. He’s not going to make it, it's already 11:45 AM. First time in the US – young boy – frightened – unsure of himself – big scary imposing airport – big scary Americans – what’s an Ambassador to do? Take him (by the hand, so to speak) and get him to the American Airlines Ticketing area. Off we go…
Here’s the point up to now – without my direct intervention, Thran Hwong would not have been able to negotiate the steps necessary to get to his next destination. OK, there may have been somebody else to step in and intervene in the crisis, but maybe not – I was there so I intervened. There was a need and I met his need at that instant.
The spiritual application is that this experience mirrors the Christian’s responsibility as an Ambassador for Christ. As we encounter folks along life’s way who are lost, confused, afraid, intimidated and we can offer directions, how can we not give our help? The point is also that we know the way, they don’t. We have gone that we many times and it isn’t scary. Somebody was faithful to pass "The Way" on to us so we could faithfully use that knowledge and pass it along to somebody else. Are you seeing the pattern? I hope so.
Now as to the title of this little piece – “What Language Do You Speak?”. There are three personal applications of mine as a DFW Airport Ambassador. Here they are…
A very attractive lady heading to Orange County, John Wayne Airport is approaching the podium at speed. She is running late because it has taken two hours to find gas for the rent car. But that’s not the problem. She has “lost” her father. Seems she left him in a wheelchair somewhere – outside terminal D – “In the sun” – uh; this is Texas - in the summer. "In the sun" – and that’s a clue to his whereabouts? Not to worry. Off on an expedition to find dad. He is found after a run to the North end followed by a run to the South end and there is dad, cowboy boots, hat, cane; sitting in a wheelchair and definitely in the sun. “Where ya been?” Indeed… We got him and her luggage cart to the security check point with 10 minutes to go till departure and me with a pace maker – I will never make it through security in any kind of time. “You’re on your own, sorry but I can’t get through security fast enough to help you – so AA will have to work it’s magic.” I don’t know the outcome of this story except the “Language” of the event. “Thank you so much” – and I could see it in her eyes. Even though we may not have made it in time for the flight on their tickets, at least she found dad and he was OK. I hope they are home in Southern California, but my day was complete with this event.
Story two – Sylvia Munos (don’t know how to put the little ~ above the “o”..) has a problem. Same problem as Thran’s – late flight – connecting flight – not enough time to make connections – no hable English – no hablo Espanol – (same problem with the ~). Any way, Sylvia needs the same care to find AA Ticketing so I walk her (first ¼ mile) to the AA Ticketing Area – when we are almost there she exclaims – “No Wallette!” – i.e. the folder that contained her ticket and boarding pass for Colorado. I said for her to stand here – “a quie” – and I’ll go back downstairs and look for it (second ¼ mile). Bad news, no can find. I walk back upstairs (third ¼ mile) and take her to the Spanish Speaking Ticketing Agent and walk away – knowing she is in as good hands as she can find at the moment. After the fourth ¼ mile trek back to my station on the lower level of the terminal I see the folder (Wallette) on the trash can lid – and her passport! That’s probably important. I zoom back up to AA Ticketing – (fifth ¼ mile) and find that she’s disappeared. Got a new boarding pass and off to Terminal B. Agent calls the gate and finds out the plane hasn’t left yet and Sylvia is still in line. Off to the security checkpoint – pacemaker pat-down – on the tram and reach terminal B – Sylvia in line – I hand her the “wallette” - and passport. Her eyes widen – “Gracias” – “Mucas Cracias!” – “Mucas Gracias!!” tears in eyes and all. So now I understand Spanish and thankfulness in two languages. It’s not hard to spot.
Then there’s Thran. After handing him over to the AA Ticketing Agent there was the hand shake – very small hands – but firm grip – eye contact – bow of respect and “Sank You! Sank you berry much!” Now I understand Vietnamese too.
What a great job!
I’m not sure I remembered his name right or not, but I remember Thran. Whenever I see a Vietnamese I think of the Viet Nam War and those little people... His coat size was probably a boy’s medium or men’34 – no bigger. Looked like a washed denim - three button - top button buttoned - stylish - nice denim pants, etc. He probably didn’t weigh 100 pounds. Nice looking boy, probably about 18 – 20 years old, max, maybe only 17.
He was with about 8-10 other passengers coming out of the International Arrivals Area at D/FW International Airport in July 2009. I work there at Gate 22-D International Arrivals as an Airport Ambassador – from 8:00 AM to 12:00 Noon on Tuesdays. The flight from Tokyo Narita (TJN) arrives at 9:00 AM every day in typical Japanese timeliness. Sometimes it takes a long time for all the passengers to get through customs and security. That was the case this day. It was 11:45 AM when Thran and his friends came through the exit doors. Everybody except he seemed to know where they were going. He looked hopelessly lost…
His connecting flight to The University of Alabama (probably on a scholarship?) to study Business Administration in Montgomery - departure time - 11:45 AM. He’s not going to make it, it's already 11:45 AM. First time in the US – young boy – frightened – unsure of himself – big scary imposing airport – big scary Americans – what’s an Ambassador to do? Take him (by the hand, so to speak) and get him to the American Airlines Ticketing area. Off we go…
Here’s the point up to now – without my direct intervention, Thran Hwong would not have been able to negotiate the steps necessary to get to his next destination. OK, there may have been somebody else to step in and intervene in the crisis, but maybe not – I was there so I intervened. There was a need and I met his need at that instant.
The spiritual application is that this experience mirrors the Christian’s responsibility as an Ambassador for Christ. As we encounter folks along life’s way who are lost, confused, afraid, intimidated and we can offer directions, how can we not give our help? The point is also that we know the way, they don’t. We have gone that we many times and it isn’t scary. Somebody was faithful to pass "The Way" on to us so we could faithfully use that knowledge and pass it along to somebody else. Are you seeing the pattern? I hope so.
Now as to the title of this little piece – “What Language Do You Speak?”. There are three personal applications of mine as a DFW Airport Ambassador. Here they are…
A very attractive lady heading to Orange County, John Wayne Airport is approaching the podium at speed. She is running late because it has taken two hours to find gas for the rent car. But that’s not the problem. She has “lost” her father. Seems she left him in a wheelchair somewhere – outside terminal D – “In the sun” – uh; this is Texas - in the summer. "In the sun" – and that’s a clue to his whereabouts? Not to worry. Off on an expedition to find dad. He is found after a run to the North end followed by a run to the South end and there is dad, cowboy boots, hat, cane; sitting in a wheelchair and definitely in the sun. “Where ya been?” Indeed… We got him and her luggage cart to the security check point with 10 minutes to go till departure and me with a pace maker – I will never make it through security in any kind of time. “You’re on your own, sorry but I can’t get through security fast enough to help you – so AA will have to work it’s magic.” I don’t know the outcome of this story except the “Language” of the event. “Thank you so much” – and I could see it in her eyes. Even though we may not have made it in time for the flight on their tickets, at least she found dad and he was OK. I hope they are home in Southern California, but my day was complete with this event.
Story two – Sylvia Munos (don’t know how to put the little ~ above the “o”..) has a problem. Same problem as Thran’s – late flight – connecting flight – not enough time to make connections – no hable English – no hablo Espanol – (same problem with the ~). Any way, Sylvia needs the same care to find AA Ticketing so I walk her (first ¼ mile) to the AA Ticketing Area – when we are almost there she exclaims – “No Wallette!” – i.e. the folder that contained her ticket and boarding pass for Colorado. I said for her to stand here – “a quie” – and I’ll go back downstairs and look for it (second ¼ mile). Bad news, no can find. I walk back upstairs (third ¼ mile) and take her to the Spanish Speaking Ticketing Agent and walk away – knowing she is in as good hands as she can find at the moment. After the fourth ¼ mile trek back to my station on the lower level of the terminal I see the folder (Wallette) on the trash can lid – and her passport! That’s probably important. I zoom back up to AA Ticketing – (fifth ¼ mile) and find that she’s disappeared. Got a new boarding pass and off to Terminal B. Agent calls the gate and finds out the plane hasn’t left yet and Sylvia is still in line. Off to the security checkpoint – pacemaker pat-down – on the tram and reach terminal B – Sylvia in line – I hand her the “wallette” - and passport. Her eyes widen – “Gracias” – “Mucas Cracias!” – “Mucas Gracias!!” tears in eyes and all. So now I understand Spanish and thankfulness in two languages. It’s not hard to spot.
Then there’s Thran. After handing him over to the AA Ticketing Agent there was the hand shake – very small hands – but firm grip – eye contact – bow of respect and “Sank You! Sank you berry much!” Now I understand Vietnamese too.
What a great job!
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Purple Alligator Skin
I visited my brother in Ohio last week. It is always with trepidation that I make that call - sounds strange, I know but that's how it is. Consider this; "Bro" is 75 and has been in a "Home" for about 2 years now - full time - and about 5 or 6 years off and on. He has lots of ailments, not the least of which is cirrhosis of the liver and now kidney failure. Three times a week for dialysis on M,W,F with T,T for R&R - then the weekend, then Monday and dialysis again.
He had me feel the ports under the skin of his left arm, just above the elbow. When you do that to yourself you can feel your pulse, but when there is a port in your arm, you can actually feel the blood surging through your (his) veins. Most weird sensation I have ever experienced - even weirder than hearing my own heart valve in the still of the night when it snaps shut when it works. Titanium does that. Thank God it always works - at least it has for about fourteen years. And yes, it took some getting used to but Bro's vein port was above and beyond...
Sound exciting? Yes, but not really...
We did have a good visit though. We have gotten a lot closer than we were when we were younger. I guess that thing about percentages works out in terms of age too. Five and-a-half years when you are 10 and 15-16 is a pretty big difference. Little brothers are a pest at best and simply provide something to punch! Ha! Now at 69 (and a half) and 75 that difference seems smaller - I suppose it is. Well, this isn't getting very close to the title of this little essay, is it?
My brother's arms are purple - yes, purple! Livid, bright purple. From the elbows to the hands with white skin for fingers and purple alligator skin for arms. I wonder if when he looks at them he thinks something like - "where did those arms come from?" I think I would. I don't know if he thinks that, I didn't ask, but for me I think it would come as a surprise. Like "I don't remember them looking like that yesterday" - or - "Am I really THAT old?" - "Whose arms are those anyway?" I suppose I could make all the standard comments at this point like "Thank God for my health" - or - "When you have your health you have everything" - or probably any one of a hundred others. The truth is that we sometimes lose our health.
What do you think you would do if your arms turned to Purple Alligator Skin? I was once told there is a medical term for that related to all the illnesses Bro has had, but what difference would that make if it were yours or my arms?
And how would your days go? Would you look forward to your meals? How about your favorite nurse paying you a visit for pills, finger sticks, insulin injections, diaper changes, or a thousand other fun things? How about your favorite nurse - yes, I visited with her and she genuinely cares for him - not an erotic Greek "Love" - eros - but Greek Phileo love. Genuine caring love as a friend for a friend. Not quite Agape love, but close... She's leaving Magnolia Convalescent Center after twenty years. The economy has gotten to her and the drive to work has taken its toll. New place is two miles from her home and she must make the change. She told me with tears in her eyes that she really hates to leave. Twenty years at the same place and she has seen come characters in her time there but my brother takes the cake. In fact, he is the icing on the cake - her words. I know this will be hard on him, there are so few bright spots in his life and one is turning off. I hope he survives that...
But then there's the Purple Alligator skin. It never goes away and it's always yours. Where did it come from? I don't remember growing older like this. What would you say or think?
Then there is the rare visit from your "Kid Brother" from Texas. Tanned, walking straight - no walker, fairly "slim", taller than you are, able to control his bowels (Wow! is that something to be thankful for?) and then the highlight of your week - maybe of the last six months - carry in breakfast from McDonald's - Sausage, Egg and Cheese Biscuit with Potato Cake and Coffee (be sure to bring coffee - they use instant here - it's bad coffee...) with your kid brother. How's that for a treat!
If ever I get feeling sorry for myself - and I do - or you, dear reader for that matter - just remember Purple Alligator Skin. That should make your day... Agape to all.
He had me feel the ports under the skin of his left arm, just above the elbow. When you do that to yourself you can feel your pulse, but when there is a port in your arm, you can actually feel the blood surging through your (his) veins. Most weird sensation I have ever experienced - even weirder than hearing my own heart valve in the still of the night when it snaps shut when it works. Titanium does that. Thank God it always works - at least it has for about fourteen years. And yes, it took some getting used to but Bro's vein port was above and beyond...
Sound exciting? Yes, but not really...
We did have a good visit though. We have gotten a lot closer than we were when we were younger. I guess that thing about percentages works out in terms of age too. Five and-a-half years when you are 10 and 15-16 is a pretty big difference. Little brothers are a pest at best and simply provide something to punch! Ha! Now at 69 (and a half) and 75 that difference seems smaller - I suppose it is. Well, this isn't getting very close to the title of this little essay, is it?
My brother's arms are purple - yes, purple! Livid, bright purple. From the elbows to the hands with white skin for fingers and purple alligator skin for arms. I wonder if when he looks at them he thinks something like - "where did those arms come from?" I think I would. I don't know if he thinks that, I didn't ask, but for me I think it would come as a surprise. Like "I don't remember them looking like that yesterday" - or - "Am I really THAT old?" - "Whose arms are those anyway?" I suppose I could make all the standard comments at this point like "Thank God for my health" - or - "When you have your health you have everything" - or probably any one of a hundred others. The truth is that we sometimes lose our health.
What do you think you would do if your arms turned to Purple Alligator Skin? I was once told there is a medical term for that related to all the illnesses Bro has had, but what difference would that make if it were yours or my arms?
And how would your days go? Would you look forward to your meals? How about your favorite nurse paying you a visit for pills, finger sticks, insulin injections, diaper changes, or a thousand other fun things? How about your favorite nurse - yes, I visited with her and she genuinely cares for him - not an erotic Greek "Love" - eros - but Greek Phileo love. Genuine caring love as a friend for a friend. Not quite Agape love, but close... She's leaving Magnolia Convalescent Center after twenty years. The economy has gotten to her and the drive to work has taken its toll. New place is two miles from her home and she must make the change. She told me with tears in her eyes that she really hates to leave. Twenty years at the same place and she has seen come characters in her time there but my brother takes the cake. In fact, he is the icing on the cake - her words. I know this will be hard on him, there are so few bright spots in his life and one is turning off. I hope he survives that...
But then there's the Purple Alligator skin. It never goes away and it's always yours. Where did it come from? I don't remember growing older like this. What would you say or think?
Then there is the rare visit from your "Kid Brother" from Texas. Tanned, walking straight - no walker, fairly "slim", taller than you are, able to control his bowels (Wow! is that something to be thankful for?) and then the highlight of your week - maybe of the last six months - carry in breakfast from McDonald's - Sausage, Egg and Cheese Biscuit with Potato Cake and Coffee (be sure to bring coffee - they use instant here - it's bad coffee...) with your kid brother. How's that for a treat!
If ever I get feeling sorry for myself - and I do - or you, dear reader for that matter - just remember Purple Alligator Skin. That should make your day... Agape to all.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Easter Day 1971
Easter Day - April 11, 1971 was memorable. Indeed this Easter - April 12, 2009 - I am having a hard time getting it out of my mind. It's a story that's particularly meaningful to me, as you will see. But I don't want it to loose anything in the telling. Since it is very personal, I will try to be interesting while adding the poignancy of the day as a little flavoring.
The story starts a week before Easter as my family and I were on a Business/Pleasure trip to South Texas and the Gulf Coast. I made my sales calls as we went along in Waco, San Antonio and Laredo. We had a 1970 VW Campmobile vehicle. It was a great car but underpowered. Won't go there... There is a lot that could be told here, but I want to get to the arrival back home in Hurst, Sunday evening April 11, 1971. A phone call from Mom informed us that my Dad had died that morning. Pretty big shock but then again he had a history of heart attacks and that's what happened. But the details are where the story lies.
Dad and Mom had gone to Georgie's house that Saturday evening so she and Dad could practice the song for Easter. The plan was for him to sing that evening but he said words to the effect that "this isn't an evening song, it's a morning song...besides, I won't be there Sunday evening." Mom later said in recalling this event that she didn't give it much thought since they sometimes skipped church to go fishing, but she didn't press it. So it was decided that he would sing for the Sunday Morning Worship Service. Which he did. The song was I Know That My Redeemer Lives - a very stirring song and pretty difficult vocally. Dad was a "Top Tenor" meaning first tenor. His voice was strong even till the last - that's what Mom said. Well, as I said the story is in the details. He sat down beside Mom and she said - good job Nard (nickname for Venard)! She said he looked pleased. Dad had a certain look he got when he knew something was done well. A song, a wood plaque, a perfectly plastered house, whatever - you could see that sort of half smile, a look of satisfaction. That's how he looked when he died. The mortician captured that look. Pretty amazing... But that still isn't the real detail of the story. His last words on earth were "Because He lives, I too, I too, I too shall live!"
Dad is alive with Jesus in Heaven now and I have to believe God honored Dad for a life well lived with his manner of departing. Dad never had a lot of money or fame, although we had our share in the good days of the 1950's but it was not to be that we kept any of it. That's OK because the treasures he built up here vanished in a heartbeat a 1961 Sheriff's Sale. But the real Silver, Gold and Precious Jewels remain in Dad's crown because of the life he lived. This will some day be his gift to Jesus.
So the message here is what's your gift going to be? How will you live your life? How have you lived your life up till today? Do you have a lot of money and stuff? That's OK, it's not a bad thing, but the problem can be that you get lost in the shuffle. Don't ever forget that it's what you Can take with you that counts. What will your (my) last words be. What will you take with you? Are you Born again?
Hopefully you will be with my Dad, Mom and Me when I go. And we never know when that second may be. Keep the faith!
The story starts a week before Easter as my family and I were on a Business/Pleasure trip to South Texas and the Gulf Coast. I made my sales calls as we went along in Waco, San Antonio and Laredo. We had a 1970 VW Campmobile vehicle. It was a great car but underpowered. Won't go there... There is a lot that could be told here, but I want to get to the arrival back home in Hurst, Sunday evening April 11, 1971. A phone call from Mom informed us that my Dad had died that morning. Pretty big shock but then again he had a history of heart attacks and that's what happened. But the details are where the story lies.
Dad and Mom had gone to Georgie's house that Saturday evening so she and Dad could practice the song for Easter. The plan was for him to sing that evening but he said words to the effect that "this isn't an evening song, it's a morning song...besides, I won't be there Sunday evening." Mom later said in recalling this event that she didn't give it much thought since they sometimes skipped church to go fishing, but she didn't press it. So it was decided that he would sing for the Sunday Morning Worship Service. Which he did. The song was I Know That My Redeemer Lives - a very stirring song and pretty difficult vocally. Dad was a "Top Tenor" meaning first tenor. His voice was strong even till the last - that's what Mom said. Well, as I said the story is in the details. He sat down beside Mom and she said - good job Nard (nickname for Venard)! She said he looked pleased. Dad had a certain look he got when he knew something was done well. A song, a wood plaque, a perfectly plastered house, whatever - you could see that sort of half smile, a look of satisfaction. That's how he looked when he died. The mortician captured that look. Pretty amazing... But that still isn't the real detail of the story. His last words on earth were "Because He lives, I too, I too, I too shall live!"
Dad is alive with Jesus in Heaven now and I have to believe God honored Dad for a life well lived with his manner of departing. Dad never had a lot of money or fame, although we had our share in the good days of the 1950's but it was not to be that we kept any of it. That's OK because the treasures he built up here vanished in a heartbeat a 1961 Sheriff's Sale. But the real Silver, Gold and Precious Jewels remain in Dad's crown because of the life he lived. This will some day be his gift to Jesus.
So the message here is what's your gift going to be? How will you live your life? How have you lived your life up till today? Do you have a lot of money and stuff? That's OK, it's not a bad thing, but the problem can be that you get lost in the shuffle. Don't ever forget that it's what you Can take with you that counts. What will your (my) last words be. What will you take with you? Are you Born again?
Hopefully you will be with my Dad, Mom and Me when I go. And we never know when that second may be. Keep the faith!
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Circumstances
Circumstances: a series of apparently unrelated events which lead to an irresistible mostly unexpected conclusion. Includes elements of destiny, fate, fortune, lot, luck and portion. So when we say that "circumstances" brought us together, there is a lot going on. And that's the case in the little story I want to relate here. Let me set the scene...
I work occasionally at a local Antique Mall as a "Floor Walker" to assist customers, move merchandise out of the store, keep an eye out for shoplifters, etc... Such was my lot a couple of days ago. So in order for me to be there certain Circumstances were in place. Because each Vendor is required to work a minimum of four hours a month of "Floor Walking" as part of their rental agreement, a schedule is provided for them to sign up for a particular time slot. As Circumstances dictate some times there are vacant time slots which have no vendors signed up. That's where I come in. There are a few of us older fellows who are willing to work the floor for cash in order to keep some pin money in our pockets and provide a service for the mall owners in keeping a presence on the mall floor. Vendors who don't work have to pay us. They leave a blank check for $25 with the mall which they in turn give to us "Floor Walkers" when we fill in the gaps so to speak. So I was there in that capacity because nobody had signed up for that day (Monday) which is unusual because the need is normally on the weekends. So the circumstantial events are already coming into play...
OK. It is about 11:00 AM and I am lolling around the check out counter and there is this lady - middle age, fairly tall, thin, not good looking, not bad looking, dressed appropriately, etc. etc. - checking out with her purchase. Not a lot as some buyers go, but bulky. So the cashier puts it all into a cardboard box. She certainly would have been capable of carrying it to her car, but me, Mr. Niceguy decided to carry it for her. Sort of a whim, but I felt "led" to do so. Didn't have a clue at the time. Circumstances...
Got to the car, a Subaru Forrester - neat car - 4X4 - Big tires, white but that's OK. So I struck up a conversation about her car. Yes she likes it, her husband bought it just before the previous one was paid off. The big tires were his idea. I am starting to get a picture there may be a problem here. There is/was a problem. I think a list will do best.
1. The lady - lets call her Lois - had just been laid off from a good job. As you may expect, she is down and not a little apprehensive about the future. Lets let this Stimulus thing play out - she says. Then adds words about socialism, Hitler, etc. and I feel her mounting frustration. She has to wait to see if she can find a good job like she just lost...
2. They like to go camping so she and her husband (call him Ben) bought a 1980's version big box motor home. In great shape and a lot of fun. They like to camp in Big Bend National Park and State Park.
3. Her husband is a Viet Nam vet and she can't trust him anymore. Not much detail here but some of the things he has done have her in a very cautious mood about him. Bits and pieces let me think he is unstable somehow.
4. Both his parents committed suicide only 7 years before he retired. He went to pieces after that. Not the same anymore. Don't exactly know what his parents suicide has to do with retirement, but that's what she put together somehow. "I'm ready to leave him."
5. 40 year old daughter is getting divorced and is moving back in with a kid. She has an $8/hour job and certainly can't make it on her own with that amount. There may have been more to Lois' story that transpired in about five minutes in a parking lot, but since I didn't record it my memory is only catching this much.
I guess the point is that God is in our Circumstances somehow. As Believers our mission includes trying to find out how He is involved and what His purpose may be in our being there too. As Lois and I were talking I was thinking - "how can I work in a witness to her?" - as in the plan of salvation - but nothing seemed to work as an entry point. Finally I said something to the effect that I'd never been in a position like she is but I can pray for her. I think she was taken a little by my statement but seemed to be appreciative that someone -- anyone -- would take the time to at least say that.
Now don't get me wrong, I'm not patting myself on the back and saying what a good job I did, but most of the time, we are completely unaware of the effect (or is it affect) we have on people. I believe we think we must give three points and a poem to have an "effective witness" but that's not true. I believe the "Evangelism Explosion" type programs mostly have been ineffective and have given us a false impression of what "Witnessing" really is. Jesus said "You WILL be my witnesses" (emphasis mine - no choice in the matter) and what I believe He said is that by our lives we give witness to the fact that Jesus is living in us and is making a difference in how we live. What we do speaks volumes. How we live speaks volumes. Carrying out a box of merchandise when we don't have to speaks volumes. Paul said in First Corinthians that one plants (Paul) another waters (Apollos) but God is the one who gives the increase - causes the plant to have a crop, come to maturity and bear fruit. Perhaps my statement that I will pray for Lois is that seed. (It is obvious Ben needs prayer too...) But someone else will cultivate and water that seed if it's God's Will she should be saved - if she isn't already.
So you see, Circumstances played a major role in this Little Vignette in a Parking Lot.
Life is made up of these things on a daily basis. I believe we should be more alert to them and give God the glory for the opportunity to participate in them. Some times or maybe most of the time a simple word of care, concern and love to a person in "pain" is all that's necessary. To God Be The Glory. Only He knows the outcome...
I work occasionally at a local Antique Mall as a "Floor Walker" to assist customers, move merchandise out of the store, keep an eye out for shoplifters, etc... Such was my lot a couple of days ago. So in order for me to be there certain Circumstances were in place. Because each Vendor is required to work a minimum of four hours a month of "Floor Walking" as part of their rental agreement, a schedule is provided for them to sign up for a particular time slot. As Circumstances dictate some times there are vacant time slots which have no vendors signed up. That's where I come in. There are a few of us older fellows who are willing to work the floor for cash in order to keep some pin money in our pockets and provide a service for the mall owners in keeping a presence on the mall floor. Vendors who don't work have to pay us. They leave a blank check for $25 with the mall which they in turn give to us "Floor Walkers" when we fill in the gaps so to speak. So I was there in that capacity because nobody had signed up for that day (Monday) which is unusual because the need is normally on the weekends. So the circumstantial events are already coming into play...
OK. It is about 11:00 AM and I am lolling around the check out counter and there is this lady - middle age, fairly tall, thin, not good looking, not bad looking, dressed appropriately, etc. etc. - checking out with her purchase. Not a lot as some buyers go, but bulky. So the cashier puts it all into a cardboard box. She certainly would have been capable of carrying it to her car, but me, Mr. Niceguy decided to carry it for her. Sort of a whim, but I felt "led" to do so. Didn't have a clue at the time. Circumstances...
Got to the car, a Subaru Forrester - neat car - 4X4 - Big tires, white but that's OK. So I struck up a conversation about her car. Yes she likes it, her husband bought it just before the previous one was paid off. The big tires were his idea. I am starting to get a picture there may be a problem here. There is/was a problem. I think a list will do best.
1. The lady - lets call her Lois - had just been laid off from a good job. As you may expect, she is down and not a little apprehensive about the future. Lets let this Stimulus thing play out - she says. Then adds words about socialism, Hitler, etc. and I feel her mounting frustration. She has to wait to see if she can find a good job like she just lost...
2. They like to go camping so she and her husband (call him Ben) bought a 1980's version big box motor home. In great shape and a lot of fun. They like to camp in Big Bend National Park and State Park.
3. Her husband is a Viet Nam vet and she can't trust him anymore. Not much detail here but some of the things he has done have her in a very cautious mood about him. Bits and pieces let me think he is unstable somehow.
4. Both his parents committed suicide only 7 years before he retired. He went to pieces after that. Not the same anymore. Don't exactly know what his parents suicide has to do with retirement, but that's what she put together somehow. "I'm ready to leave him."
5. 40 year old daughter is getting divorced and is moving back in with a kid. She has an $8/hour job and certainly can't make it on her own with that amount. There may have been more to Lois' story that transpired in about five minutes in a parking lot, but since I didn't record it my memory is only catching this much.
I guess the point is that God is in our Circumstances somehow. As Believers our mission includes trying to find out how He is involved and what His purpose may be in our being there too. As Lois and I were talking I was thinking - "how can I work in a witness to her?" - as in the plan of salvation - but nothing seemed to work as an entry point. Finally I said something to the effect that I'd never been in a position like she is but I can pray for her. I think she was taken a little by my statement but seemed to be appreciative that someone -- anyone -- would take the time to at least say that.
Now don't get me wrong, I'm not patting myself on the back and saying what a good job I did, but most of the time, we are completely unaware of the effect (or is it affect) we have on people. I believe we think we must give three points and a poem to have an "effective witness" but that's not true. I believe the "Evangelism Explosion" type programs mostly have been ineffective and have given us a false impression of what "Witnessing" really is. Jesus said "You WILL be my witnesses" (emphasis mine - no choice in the matter) and what I believe He said is that by our lives we give witness to the fact that Jesus is living in us and is making a difference in how we live. What we do speaks volumes. How we live speaks volumes. Carrying out a box of merchandise when we don't have to speaks volumes. Paul said in First Corinthians that one plants (Paul) another waters (Apollos) but God is the one who gives the increase - causes the plant to have a crop, come to maturity and bear fruit. Perhaps my statement that I will pray for Lois is that seed. (It is obvious Ben needs prayer too...) But someone else will cultivate and water that seed if it's God's Will she should be saved - if she isn't already.
So you see, Circumstances played a major role in this Little Vignette in a Parking Lot.
Life is made up of these things on a daily basis. I believe we should be more alert to them and give God the glory for the opportunity to participate in them. Some times or maybe most of the time a simple word of care, concern and love to a person in "pain" is all that's necessary. To God Be The Glory. Only He knows the outcome...
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