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.
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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?
It is the glory of God to conceal a matter, But the glory of kings to search it out...Prov. 25:2
We've been travelling now for two weeks and two days, and so far, no major screw-ups. We're headed for a conference in Orlando callled "Releasing of Eagles" where John Kilpatrick will be speaking and Lindel Cooley will be leading worship--both from the Brownsville Revival which we attended ten years ago with our kids. We got thoroughly blessed there by a brand of radical Christianity we'd never seen before.
So, what else is new? Bo and Stanley being radical Christians? Oh yeah and we're loving it. God is so big and so wonderful and so unexpected. Everywhere we go we see him at work, whether on a slogan on the back of a semi-truck barrelling down the highway or the billboard in front of a little country church. I'm collecting those. Two of my favorites so far:
"We don't change the message, the message changes us."
"Need a lifeguard? Come on in. Ours walks on water!"
Gotta' love it.
Recently I have been working this topic in responce to some questions that I have been asked. To get the proper response, I started to look into the Word and it is amazing what I found and what God has shown me. I am willing to share this with anyone who so desires.
After the Irish Rebellion of 1798 a strange outgrowth of barley began to appear in clumps on the recent battlefields.
This was no phenomenon but a result of the Irish soldiers slain and buried that had carriedbarley seed in their pockets during the battle.
These barley patches where immortalized in the ballad by Robert Joyce “The Wind That Shook the Barley.”
These barley outcroppings became a symbol of Irish resolve.
What grows in the desert?
