Meeting God at Thirty-Thousand Feet

 
I did some dumb things in junior high school. I think it just comes with the territory. But one particularly dumb thing involved a theft. I didn't steal money or shoplift and I didn't take anyone's boyfriend. I simply stole a few votes.

The scene of the crime was journalism class, where those of us on the yearbook staff sat counting ballots for the school superlatives contest. Suddenly someone yelled out, "Caron! It looks like you may get enough votes to win, 'Most Talented.' "

Until that moment, I had been the epitome of average. Winning a category in the superlatives contest would skyrocket my approval rating at Glenridge Junior High. I was eking out a social existence because my friends had friends who were cool. Like a mere feeder fish, I hovered close to the big fish in hopes of sucking some algae off them.

But, I soon found out that I was not the only one up for Most Talented. Trailing close behind me was Cindy, our school's guitar-playing singer. Cindy had real talent. She was even asked to sing her original song, "Beauty," at a school assembly. My only claim to fame was the pen-and-ink drawings I did on notebooks and book covers. Hardly a class went by that I didn't get at least one request for " Judy & Johnny 4-Ever," or " S. M. loves T. P."

Clearly, my talent was no match for Cindy's. Someone important once said, "The pen is mightier than the sword." But no one ever mentioned how the pen would do against the guitar. Guitars were big deals. I knew if I didn't do something fast, I would live my whole life in obscurity.
So, while votes were being tallied for other categories, I secretly grabbed a handful of uncounted ballots and tossed them in the trash. I was pretty sure no one saw me. I should have felt guilty, but I didn't.

At the end of the day, I had won. And suddenly the demand for notebook art increased a good forty percent.

Why it took God fifteen years to confront me on this, I'll never know. But it was He who brought it up one morning in my prayer time. By then we were on a first name basis and He had full permission to speak to me about anything that bothered Him. Here is an abbreviated version of our conversation:

Me: God, I want to be all I can be for you. I've searched my heart for anything that might be standing in the way of this and I've come up empty. I think I've dealt with all the sins I've ever committed. But I'll just sit here and wait for you to go through your files and see if you have something there I may have left out.

God: Well, there was that time in junior high school.

Me: Which time?

God: Most Talented.

Me: You saw that? It was such a long time ago. Surely you have a statute of limitations or some kind of cut off date for people who do dumb things prior to high school.

God: Not really.

Me: But I'm twelve hundred miles away. No telling where Cindy is. Do you realize the difficulty I would have in finding her? Okay, here's what I'll do. If one day I'm walking down the street and I happen to see her, I'll know you sent her and I'll make things right with her. Fair enough?

God: Fair enough.

I felt pretty safe. I hadn't seen Cindy in years. The odds of running into her in another state were microscopic.

Six months later, my husband and I were racing through the airport trying a catch a plane. When we reached the door of the 747, it has just been shut. My husband, forever the determined optimist, banged on the door as the noise of the engines accelerated. Suddenly a nice flight attendant with exceptional hearing came to our rescue and opened the door.
We made our way to the back of the plane, comparing our tickets to the numbers overhead until we found a match. I plopped down in the middle seat assigned to me. Using my polite voice I said, "Hello," to a woman next to me who was looking out the window. When she returned my greeting, adrenaline shot through me. In unison we both exclaimed, "Oh, my gosh! I can't believe it!"

There was Cindy, the guitar-playing singer.

A boxing match began inside me. From one corner came the feeling of someone who had just been given a million dollars. And from the other came the emotions of a hunted felon. Immediately I began carrying on two conversations, one on the surface with Cindy, the other internally with God.

Me: You actually found her! This is an outright miracle! I can't believe You are forcing me to do this. You really are into the details, aren't You?

God: Yes.

From takeoff to landing, Cindy and I chattered away, but all I could think of was how, out of the hundreds of thousands of people on airplanes that day, God looked for a needle in a haystack, found it, threaded it and placed it in my hand.

My palms started to sweat. I swallowed hard. No use stalling any longer. It was time to let Cindy in on the whole story. "Cindy," I said. "You're not going to believe this but it's no accident we met today. Several months ago, I promised God I would make things right if our paths should ever cross again."

As I explained, Cindy laughed. She easily forgave me. It barely phased her. I felt like scolding God for orchestrating such an ordeal. Then a familiar quote popped into my mind, " To whom much is given, much is required." God knew that if I'd confess a small matter from the past, he could trust me with greater responsibilities in the future.

I felt far from the epitome of average.

The Christmas Star

 
This was my grandmother's first Christmas without Grandfather, and we had promised him before he passed away that we would make this her best Christmas ever. When my mom, dad, three sisters and I arrived at her little house in the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina, we found she had waited up all night for us to arrive from Texas. After we exchanged hugs, Donna, Karen, Kristi and I ran into the house. It did seem a little empty without Grandfather, and we knew it was up to us to make this Christmas special for her.

Grandfather had always said that the Christmas tree was the most important decoration of all. So we immediately set to work assembling the beautiful artificial tree that was stored in Grandfather's closet. Although artificial, it was the most geniuine-looking Douglas fir I had ever seen. Tucked away in the closet with the tree was a spectacular array of ornaments, many of which had been my father's when he was a little boy. As we unwrapped each one, Grandmother had a story to go along with it. My mother strung the tree with bright white lights and a red button garland; my sisters and I carefully placed the ornaments on the tree; and finally, Father was given the honor of lighting the tree.

We stepped back to admire our handiwork. To us, it looked magnificent, as beautiful as the tree in Rockefeller Center. But something was missing.

"Where's your star?" I asked.
The star was my grandmother's favorite part of the tree.
"Why, it must be here somewhere," she said, starting to sort through the boxes again.
"Your grandfather always packed everything so carefully when he took the tree down."

As we emptied box after box and found no star, my grandmother's eyes filled with tears. This was no ordinary ornament, but an elaborate golden star covered with colored jewels and blue lights that blinked on and off. Moreover, Grandfather had given it to Grandmother some fifty years ago, on their first Christmas together. Now, on her first Chirstmas without him, the star was gone too."

Don't worry, Grandmother." I reassured her. "We'll find it for you."My sistems and I formed a search party."Let's start in the closed where the ornaments were," Donna said. "Maybe the box just fell down."That sounded logical, so we climbed on a chair and began to search that tall closet of Grandfather's. We found Father's old yearbooks and photographs of relatives, Christmas cards from years gone by, and party dresses and jewelry boxes, but no star.We searched under beds and over shelves, inside and outside, until we had exhausted every possibility. We could see Grandmother was disappointed, although she tried not to show it."We could buy a new star," Kristi offered."I'll make you one from construction paper." Karen chimed in."No," Grandmother said. "This year, we won't have a star."By now it was dark outside, and time for bed, as Santa would soon be here. We lay in bed, snowflakes falling quietly outside.

The next morning, my sisters and I woke up early, as was our habit on Christmas day -- first, to see what Santa had left under the tree, and second, to look for the Christmas star in the sky. After a traditional breakfast of apple pancakes, the family sat down together to open presents. Santa had brought me the Eask-Bake Oven I wanted, and Donna a Chatty-Cathy doll. Karen was thrilled to get the doll buggy she had asked for, and Kristi to get the china tea set. Father was in charge of passing out the presents, so that everyone would have something to open at the same time.

"The last gift is to Grandmother from Grandfather," he said, in a puzzled voice."From who?" There was surprise in my grandmother's voice."I found that gift in Grandfather's closet when we got the tree down," Mother explained. "It was already wrapped so I put it under the tree. I thought it was one of yours.""Hurry and open in," Karen urged excitedly.

My grandmother shakily opened the box. Her face lit up with joy when she unfolded the tissue paper and pulled out a glorious golden star.

There was a note attached. Her voice trembled as she read it aloud:
Don't be angry with me, dear. I broke your star while putting away the decorations, and I couldn't bear to tell you. Thought it was time for a new one. I hope it brings you as much joy as the first one.
 
Merry Christmas.
 
Love,
Bryant

So Grandmother's tree had a star after all, a star that expressed my grandparents' everlasting love for one another. It brought by grandfather home for Christmas in each of our hearts and made it our best Christmas ever.

The Best One

 
Blessed indeed is the man who hears manygentle voices call him father!Lydia M. Child
When I was a little girl, my father had a time-honored tradition of tucking me into bed. Following my bedtime story, he would give me a nose kiss, tickle my stomach and whisper the most wonderful words into my ear. "Michelle, of all the little girls in the whole wide world . . ." he would pause.

"Yes, Daddy?"
"How did your mommy and I get so lucky to get the best one?"
Before he had time to finish, I would say, "You got me!" And then he would continue, "The best little girl in the whole wide world, and we got you."
"You got me!" I would scream and clap.
"Yes, you, Michelle, and we're so lucky." He would end with a bear hug and another kiss to my forehead.

Years passed and my father never missed a night, even when I thought he should have. After my basketball team was defeated, he came into my room.
"Michelle, of all the basketball players in the whole wide world," he paused.
"Yes, Daddy?" I stared at the floor.
"How did your mom and I get so lucky to get the best one?"
"You didn't."
"Of course we did, Michelle. We have you."
"But, Dad . . ."
"Yes, you, Michelle, and we're so lucky," he cheered, as he gave me a high five followed by a bear hug and a kiss to my forehead. I thought becoming a teenager would end the ritual, but it didn't.
"Michelle, of all the teenagers in the whole wide world . . ." he would pause.
"Dad, I'm too old for this," I would sigh.
"How did your mother and I get so lucky to get the best one?"
"C'mon, Dad," I grunted.
"We have you, Michelle, and we're so lucky." Then the embarrassing hug and kiss.

Following college, I became engaged. My father never missed a night to call or leave a message reminding me how special I was to him. I even wondered if he would continue calling after I got married, but he didn't. The daily calls I had taken for granted all my life ended the day he died from cancer, only weeks before my wedding.

I deeply missed sharing the day with my father.
Standing behind the white church doors with my arm in my brother's, I waited for the wedding march to begin. Before we began our descent down the aisle, my brother reached inside his pocket and handed me an ivory napkin embroidered with pink ribbon.
Inscribed were the words:

Of all the precious wives in the whole wide world, how did Mark get so lucky to marry the best one? He married you, Michelle, and he is so lucky!
I am so proud of you, my little girl.
Love,
Dad

Without a doubt, it was the best wedding gift I received. One I would never forget. My father showered me with his gifts every day of his life. How did I get so lucky?

What matters most?

Life is all about love. The best use of life is love. The best expression of love is time. The best time to love is now.

The Armor of God

Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armor of God so that you can take your stand against the devil's schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Therefore put on the ful armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the saints.

Pray also for me, that whenever I open my mouth, words may be given me so that I will fearlessly make known the mystery of the gospel, for which I am an ambassador in chains. Pray that I may declare it fearlessly, as I should.

A girl from London

I had dinner with a girl I met at church tonight and she was born in London. We talked a lot from the God's love to the art & literature. She is not able to speak in a normal speed due to a traffic accident. Although she can think about what she wants to say immediately, the words may be jammed before she speaks it out. However, she can still take an optimistic view of life. She told me that she was attacked by the failure of a certified exam. Being a teacher has been a dream to her for a very long time, however, 'coz of her speaking barrier, she could not figure it out. Her heart was nearly broken by the teacher's cruel evaluation. I comforted her to try again and I said I would like to help her find a way to be improved. I could pretend to be a student and raise up some questions to practise her reaction. What a cruel fact it is for her, but she can still stand up firmly without much complaining. Her faithful heart impressed me a lot and she said she believed the God's arrangement was always the best. Compared with her experience, what I am facing is nothing at all. May God bless her!

After dinner, she showed me some postcards from the National Gallery in London and shared her favourite artists with me. I also learnt a lot about each painting's background and the painting styles from her. We also discussed that we could start learning oil painting together from next week.

Before I knowing her story, I felt quite weird that why for a native speaker she could not speak English very fluently. Now, I got to know the reason and felt a little guilty for my impatience when I talked with her via phone. I guess what I can help her now is to listen to her carefully and help her to rebuild up the confidence. She is a lovely girl with a purified heart, even though she doesn't own pretty appearance. She said when she saw me for the first time, she was very shocked that I was very like one of her friends, a popular girl with a cute face. She said she admired me 'coz I always show a smilling face to all and wouldn't feel lonely at all. However, who knows, for me, it's hard to find the true love. I guess it's also the God's arrangement to refine my heart before the true love.

Some moved words from the Bible

"And we urge you, brothers, warn those who are idle, encourage the timid, help the weak, be patient with everyone. Make sure that nobody pays back wrong for wrong, but always try to be kind to each other and to everyone else."

"Do not put out the Spirit's fire; do not treat prophecies with contempt. Test everything. Hold on to the good. Avoid every kind of evil."

Life and Death

After a struggling with myself and the God, at last, I come out from the down period. Now, everything is becoming much better, as well as my status. I celebrated this change with some ice cream and some beautiful music. I always want to praise the God from my heart when I see a appealing scenery including the blue sky, the white floating clouds, the lovely birds... ... Life is beautiful, isn't it?

However, there are so many people ignore the loveliness of the world, and in their hearts, the agony dominates their lives. From their points of views, the world is black and white instead of a colorful one. Extremely, some of them choose suicide as the end of their lives.

Last night, I got to know that a PG student from mainland committed suicide, falling down from the Jockey Club Building. I was really shocked when I heard this piece of news. He is a PhD student who will graduate very soon. Why he chose this way to end his precious life? This incident recalls me many similar cases in the world.

Are they cowards or warriors to the fate? From one side, they refuse to be alive any more, and they dare not face the difficulties encountered in their lives, thus they are cowards; on the other hand, they feel meaningless to continue their lives, and they fight with the society and the fate in this way, while someone even praise them to be warriors. However, the standard of life and death should not be set by human-beings, because we are created by the God and we should follow the principle from the God. Everyone's existance is not an accident or coincidence, it may not be designed by his/her parents, but God designs everything. Everyone has his own talents and he has the responsibility to do contribution to the society. Life is a kind of responsibility instead of a game. The participant is not a player to end the game anytime he wants, oppositely, he has to consider the life as an important task and he needs to make full use of his talents given by the God, overcome any problems he encountered, fight with the strong storms as a navigator and at last show his works to the God.

I prayed for this boy last night after I got the e-mail, but he died eventually. I hope there won't be any tragedies like this and I hope the gospel can help as many people as possible. God, please let them know the mission, their responsibilities and the love from you. In Jesus name, I pray.