Blog or Article?
Blogs often focus on personal opinion, experiences, views, anecdotes or advice. Blogs tend to have a relaxed and conversational feel, such as in storytelling and are generally 300-500 words.
Articles aim to deliver well-researched, informative content with solid evidence to back up the points made. Articles are usually more formal, organized and frequently range 500-1000 words.
I love to write my stories. This is the latest on my other blog site and on Helium where I write to compete with others for top rating. Hope you shed a tear.
Life had gotten tough, for this a professional living in Topeka Kansas, working one and a half hours away in Overland Park. The daily commute totals three hours and the gas expenditure per month is outrageous. Adding the factors together, it was becoming difficult making ends meet. I had been desperately trying to support three children while being forced to pay outrageous medical bills and the stress it caused was menacing. I finally had to make the difficult decision to take a second job.
It is extremely difficult to find work as a systems analyst when you already work in the field during the required hours for such a position. The natural course in this situation was to take a part time job in some service related industry and I decided the best fit for me was to deliver papers. Who would have considered the growth opportunities available to an individual in what some would consider a menial job such as paper carrier? The story you are about to read will explain what I mean when I speak these words, and I hope to be able to share more like it in the future.
I arose two thirty am on a Sunday morning; it was a kind day for paper carriers. I rolled out of bed, brushed my hair and teeth, threw on a pair of jeans, tennis shoes and a t-shirt, and arrived at the factory only to find that the papers were two hours late, and view the enormous line of carrier cars that had formed had not yet begun to move. Each carrier is assigned a position in line, only on Mondays and Tuesdays could the order in line be random, and I was assigned a position second or third from the last. This type of delay would generally aggravate me, but today was Sunday, I had no where to go and I took the opportunity to rest my eyes occasionally opening them to a sound of a carrier starting their car engine or carriers conversing with each other.
My route is one of the smaller routes, not the smallest but one of them, however, my route takes more time to deliver because unlike the other routes where the carriers can just drive and throw, half my customers require that I "porch" their papers, which causes me to have to get out of the car and ensure the paper lands at their doorstep. I also have to deliver to the two hospitals in town, and again have to exit my car and proceed through the corridors to the different units and offices that have a subscription.
This particular morning, after I had completed the delivery of all my residential customers, the medical offices and the first hospital, I was elated to finally arrive at final location; Stormont Vail Medical Center. The sun had begun to rise indicating to me that I was grossly behind schedule. As I pulled into the circle drive by the main entrance to the North Tower, I could hear that the birds had awakened and were singing their songs. Since the papers were two hours late coming out of the window this morning I was a two hours behind. Had they been on time I would not be telling you this story right now.
I prepared to walk into Stormont Vail, tucking the inserts into the papers and counting out ten, the number of papers I deliver every morning to the various departments that have a subscription with the paper, Critical Care being the last on my route. The thought had crossed my mind to carry along an extra this particular morning, but the Sunday paper is heavy and I would end up carrying the spare back down to the car; I wanted my arms free at the end of this protracted morning.
Reaching Critical Care I entered the waiting room where I delivered one paper and was about to proceed to the nurses station in order to deliver my last paper for the morning, when a frail thin little old lady, who was pacing the floor, turned to me and asked for a paper. I hesitated; although I thought I had extras it would take me at least ten minutes to run down to my car grab another paper then return to the Critical Care unit to deliver to the nursing staff, but this woman looked so sad and so in need I was compelled to give her the paper.
As I handed paper to her, she explained that she was there at the Critical Care unit, to which I responded, "Do you have a family member who is sick?" She explained with a sorrowful wavering in her voice, "Yes my husband and the doctors tell us if he doesn't come through today we will have to let him go." My heart went out to the lady; I didn't know how to respond. All I could determine to do was to tell her how sorry I was, touch her shoulder and run back down to my car to get the spare paper.
As I walked down the stairs, then the long corridors of the hospital I could think about little else than this woman losing the love of her life and the pain that she must have been feeling. I wanted to comfort her and let her know I would be praying for her. How could I have not said something more, or done something more comforting? I decided that by the time I got back to the unit she would be at her husband's side; maybe I could tell the nursing staff to let her know that I would be praying for her.
I was surprised to see upon my return that she was sitting in the waiting room; looking over at her I could see the anguish in her eyes. I quickly delivered the nursing staff their paper and went to this woman's side, looked her in those heartrending eyes and told her that I would be praying for her and her husband, I told her that God still does miracles. I wanted to hug her but didn't want her to feel overwhelmed.
I didn't know what to do, as I awkwardly stood there desperately wanting to take this frail women in my arms and comfort her, desperately searching for something that would bring her a little peace in this otherwise wretched situation. She held out her arms to me, she didn't need a paper, she needed a hug. I gladly took her in my arms and rubbed her back as she quivered with grief. I cried with her, asking if she had any family that was going to be with her, and she affirmed that her son was in her husband's room.
She further elaborated on her husband's condition, sharing with me that he had a massive heart attack and had to undergo CPR. However, even though they had brought him back by performing CPR his brain didn't receive the oxygen it needed and he was only utilizing 5% of his brain function. The medical staff had told her and her son that if her husband didn't start to use more of his brain they would have to let him go and it was killing her; She was about to lose her life.
I didn't want to over stay my welcome as I was a stranger to this woman; I also had kids waiting at home. I said that I was thankful that she had her son with her, and that I would keep praying for her and her husband. As I walked back down the stairs and the hospital corridors, I found it difficult to stop the tears. It’s not often that you witness true love and it is disheartening to watch someone lose theirs. I don't know what happened to her husband, nor will I be able to find out, but if I deliver papers for no other reason than to touch that one person's life it is worth all the fatigue and the pressure that I have had to endure since embarking on this second job.
Think me not a saint as many have wanted to intimate, hugging that woman, comforting that woman in her time of need gave something to me as well. This is an experience that I will remember for as long as I live. It sort of makes you look at your life a little differently, doesn't it? It makes one want to let their loved ones know how important they are to them before it’s too late. Who would have thought that I would learn such a valuable life lesson delivering the Sunday Paper?
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Comments
God bless. For the past year or so, I have been in close contact with Matt Miller, who has become a trusted friend and beloved brother in the Lord. Recently he mentioned you and spoke of your longtime interest in the musical arts, which has been passed on to your talented children. You have probably heard of Ted Ferrell’s invitation to be a part of “Curtain Calls” extended to those interested in the musical arts, whether as singers, composers, performers, or those who fall into other categories, including those who just love music, like me. I think you would be blessed to be a part of this group, and so I’m asking that you consider being a part of this wonderful group of believers.
The second point of my comments is to tell you how much I appreciated your essay “Paper Talk.” I was deeply touched by your piece. First of all, my first job as I moved from junior high into high school was that of a paper carrier. That fact alone helped me to connect with your writing, which unfolded so poignantly. You express yourself very well. Do you have other pieces of non-fiction that you might consider placing a collection and publishing them. I firmly believe that there are many books within us all. Over the past few days, I have talked to a number of people and shared with them this statement from Elijah Pierce, who was a noted woodcarver, barber, and minister who lived in Columbus most of his life, “Your life is a book, and every day is a page.” I saw a woodcarving that Mr. Pierce had fashioned with his own hands, and the statement had a profound impact upon me. Since 2004 I have established a self-publishing enterprise to assist those who have a dream of seeing their writings in print. Perhaps this is a dream of yours as well.
My final point is to share with you the statement you made to the woman in the hospital waiting room, “I will be praying for you.” And might I add that I will be praying with you as well. As I read over your webpage on The Way Corps site, I was trying to think of an appropriate poem to share with you, since I enjoy writing inspirational verse. Many times the pieces that I write are written for others, but I find that they are first and foremost applicable to me in my present situation. This particular poem is in part a response to situations that are seemingly inexplicable, whereby one often ends up asking God “Why?” or even worse “Why Me?” In such cases, I find consolation as the proverbial “student/teacher” in these lyrics which I think you will appreciate in light of the way you looked upon your experience with the newspaper and the lady in the hospital waiting room. Indeed, you are a student whom God patiently and gently instructs in such tender “teachable moments.” The song is “Lessons to be Learned” which has these lyrics:
why did the right road
take the wrong turn
why did our heart break
why'd we get burned
just like the seasons
there are reasons
for the path we take
there are no mistakes
just lessons to be learned
What follows is a priceless lesson that we can learn from any adverse situation that occurs for which there is no apparent explanation. I trust these words will be a blessing and minister to you as they have to me.
Be encouraged,
Time and Chance
I returned and saw under the sun that—
The race is not to the swift,
Nor the battle to the strong,
Nor bread to the wise,
Nor riches to men of understanding,
Nor favor to men of skill’
But time and chance happen to them all.
Ecclesiastes 9:11
“Circumstances will drive you into the presence,
perfect will and purpose of God.”
Bishop Paul S. Morton
In storms of life each soul encounters time and chance.
We seek to seize control, as each time we insist
On charting our course by changing our circumstance.
Rather than embrace fiery trials, we resist,
Although we seek to abide in God’s perfect will.
Adversity will drive us into God’s presence
In order that He might perfect us and fulfill
His purpose in us, beyond childish insistence.
We learn that to everything there is a season,
For God, our gracious teacher, patiently explains:
Behind each why and wherefore there is a reason,
As assurance of unfailing love still sustains.
God tests us to reveal just how much we have grown,
In new places where we would not go on our own.
Lonnell Johnson