Casts, Crutches, Wheelchairs and An Upset Tummy

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There they were walking down the hall together. One was on crutches.  The other one had her left arm plastered in place and hanging in a sling.  For the one it was a softball injury, sliding into second, catching her arm somehow and breaking it.  For the other it was corrective surgery to get her ankles lined up again and, in time, making things the way they were intended to be.  I kinda chuckled to see the sight of our two healing students smiling and making their way down the hall to their classroom.

Yesterday, there were chuckles and laughs along with the tears at the funeral I attended.  It was for my cousin, Tom, who died last week.  We were reminded again that death is not the end.  We were reminded that we belong to Jesus, body soul and in life and in death.  Good News. The Gospel.

This morning we were visited by Mr. Hank, our former custodian.  By all medical standards, Hank should not have survived his injuries incurred ten months ago. Today, Hank spoke to the student body.

He rolled into the gym in his wheelchair to applause from the student body. He talked about the accident, falling to the ground from a height of 25 feet.  He talked about the multiple injuries he incurred, for some, perhaps in too great detail.  He filled us in on his plans for the future.  He made it clear that the reason he was here was because of the goodness of God and the prayers of his people.  At the end of the assembly, we circled around him, all 600+ students and teachers, and prayed.

Maybe it was the nearness of yesterday’s funeral with new grief for the new widow,  or maybe recent chats with a friend, also a widow, who at times experiences old grief in new ways, a year and a half after…, or perhaps yesterday’s sudden passing of a gentleman from our church… or the Mr. Hank visit.  Who knows?  Anyway, this morning all of this affected me, got me thinking.

During Hank’s talk, one of the kindergarteners walked out with her teacher.  She had an upset tummy.  I’m here to report that she is fine, just like the girl in the cast and the one on crutches… and just like Hank…. and just like the grieving families… All fine in the way God is blessing them today.

So, today, I’m thinking about healing, body and soul, because we belong to Jesus, the great healer, making things right, in his time…  which is today’s gift.

The Mighty Acts of God

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Grand Parents Day – May 12, 2017 – “The Mighty Acts of God”

Note:  Several months ago I was asked to speak at the Grand Parent’s Day chapel service.  Here’s what I said.

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Psalm 145:4 – “One generation commends your works to another; they tell of your mighty acts…”

There’s a simple song that goes, “God is so good, God is so good, God is so good to me…”

God’s goodness, to us, day-by-day is one of his many mighty acts.

For over 450 years the Heidelberg Catechism has been used to teach generations of believers the basic truths about God… about his goodness and how we can respond to his goodness.  I remember being taught it and memorizing it.   Maybe you remember this…

Q and A 1:  What is your only comfort in life and in death?

That I am not my own, but belong—

body and soul, in life and in death—

to my faithful Savior, Jesus Christ.

He has fully paid for all my sins with his precious blood,

and has set me free from the tyranny of the devil.

He also watches over me in such a way

that not a hair can fall from my head

without the will of my Father in heaven;

in fact, all things must work together for my salvation.

Because I belong to him,

Christ, by his Holy Spirit,

assures me of eternal life

and makes me wholeheartedly willing and ready

from now on to live for him.

That saving act, the daily care, the assurance of eternal life… these are mighty acts of God….

A long time ago, before the Heidelberg Catechism, there were Israelites.  We read about them in the Bible.  We read about how God rescued his beloved, chosen people and saved them from the tyranny of Pharaoh and the Egyptians.  He brought them out of Egypt after a series of horrible plagues, led them through the Red Sea on dry ground, drowning Pharaoh’s army which was in hot pursuit.  All mighty acts of God.

He led them through the wilderness.  Every step of the way providing protection, food, water, daily needs.  Even in his gentle daily providence we see the mighty acts of God.

The Israelites made it to the promised land and God gave it to them.  The Jordan River stopped in it’s tracks, walls of cities crumbled to dust, enemies were defeated in spite of impossible odds.  God was at work.  God’s mighty acts.

Things were great.  The Israelites told about and remembered the mighty acts of God, his acts of salvation.  They praised God for them.  They loved and worshiped him, the God who loved them first.

And then, the wheels fell off… Generations later, after Moses, after Joshua, after the Israelites were comfortably settled in the land God gave them, they forgot about God.  They forgot about his mighty acts.  They became just like everyone else, putting other things –  idols, themselves- above the God who saved them.  And I wonder why?  What happened?  Here’s what I think… I think that parents and grandparents stopped telling their children and grandchildren  the stories, the stories about the mighty acts of God.

Stories… Stories are gifts from God.

Some are just for fun… like… “Once upon a time there were three bears. They lived in a small cottage deep in the woods.  One day a young girl, Goldilocks by name happened to come walking by …”

Some stories just occur naturally, in casual conversation, as we tell each other about our day.

A student comes home and gets asked the question, “How was school?”  Answer: “Fine…”  Next Question:  “What did you learn today?”  Answer:  “Nothin’”

Short and to the point!

Teachers often use stories to make a point in lessons they teach.  For example, here’s one I use from time to time…

One Saturday, I just decided to bake a  blueberry pie!  … And the story goes on to make some educational point remembered by few.

But what about the ‘God’ stories, the stories of our lives that we share that tell about how he daily cares for us… Stories that tell the ‘mighty acts of God’ in our lives.

They maybe simple stories, simple truths… I had a student a long time ago in another school in another place  When it was his turn to pray at lunch he was nervous and he would stand in front of class, and like a pitcher on the mound… He’d wind up scrunching his eyes closed hands folded,  he’d  pray… “Deeeaar God….”  and then deliver the pitch, “Be with everyone on the ro – oads…”   And the simple truth, the mighty act of God was that everyday, students made it to school safely.  There were no serious accidents, that I’m aware of, among our school family that year.  God is so good…

Some stories are more complicated…There was Mary….

Mary’s life began about the same time my teaching life began.  She was born the year before I began teaching, in a different town …  a different place.  There was no connection between our lives… except God was at work in both places.  I didn’t know it, but God had a plan…

Fourteen years later, in a different school, Mary became my student.  My memory of the details is a bit sketchy,   She came as an eighth grader.  I was teaching eighth graders at the time.  She was bright, full of energy, fun – a beautiful child of God.  But also, as I found out, troubled.  If I remember correctly, she came to us in the middle of the year.  She had moved in with relatives because things weren’t working out at home.  Home was not a good place for her. I don’t know the details, but for some reason it was better for her to not be there.

At school there were good days and bad days.  And if I remember correctly, really bad days.  She ran away.  She didn’t finish the year with us.

But God is good.  God had a plan.  I couldn’t see it.  Many times since then, even today, I wonder, “Why did God bring Mary to my school?”

The following year I tried to keep track of Mary.  I prayed for her.  Visited her while she lived in a state institution for troubled teenagers.  In fact the last time I spoke to her, almost 30 years ago, was to say good-bye as I walked out of the dreary, gray visitation room at the state mental hospital.

That was pretty much it for me and Mary.  The paths of  our lives intersected for just a small bit of time.  As far as being part of my life, at first she wasn’t – then she was – then she wasn’t…  As far as God being part of Mary’s life, at first he was, and now he is, he always will be.

From time to time, via a mutual friend, a former student… [It’s so nice to say that a former student is now a friend.] I would get reports about Mary.  She had a kid…. She was too young, not married, I think… I’d pray, then she’d fade from my mind.  She moved down south… I’d pray… for awhile..  She got married … I prayed, “Thank you.”  I prayed for a normal, not messed up life.

I found out her husband died, cancer, I think… Three little kids.. Mary is struggling was the report.  Mary’s fighting addictions they said… Pray for Mary.  And I would, for a while…

Time moved on… Our lives moved on, Mary and mine … almost 30 years of our lives… And then, not so long ago, my friend said.  We’re going to get Mary.  We’re bringing her home, back to Kalamazoo.  And they did, family and friends… God was at work.  He had a plan.  And I prayed some more.  And I hoped that maybe I would get to meet up with Mary again…

I don’t know all the details, but Mary started going to church… The God who loved her first, was at work… through family and friends and the work of the Spirit… her relationship with God became more and more real.  And at some point… before she passed away… she met Jesus.

She realized in her heart that in spite of the tyranny of her troubled past,  she belonged body and soul, in life and in death, to her faithful Savior Jesus Christ.

At the funeral we sang:

My chains are gone, 

I’ve been set free

My God, my Savior has ransomed me

And like a flood His mercy reigns

Unending love, amazing grace

How will the next generation know the mighty acts of God unless we tell the stories?  We need to tell the stories  of God’s grace… God’s goodness…  God’s mighty acts.

“One generation commends your works to another; they tell of your mighty acts… “  Psalm 145:4

 Three Questions

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Faculty Devotions – May 8, 2017

*** It’s time once again for me to lead faculty devotions.  It’s always a bit daunting.  Here’s what I came up with this time. ***

This devotional is about questions.  I’m going to give the answers at the beginning.  Here goes…

Isaiah 55:9 – God says, “ …As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.”

Esther 4:14 – “And who knows but that you have come to your royal position for such a time as this?”

When crafting a story, writers will often ask the question, “What if…?  They’ll explore different scenarios to see how the characters react.  They’ll think about choices the character could make that might move the story along.

For example, what if the main character in a story is a 7th grade teacher, say language arts, brand new out of college?  What if she feels the need to prove her worth as a teacher?  What if, let’s say … it’s the day before Christmas break and, dog-gone-it, no matter what, she’s going to teach that lesson on, oh … how about ‘heroes!’  And there’s a snow storm going on outside… and it’s the last period of the day… and the students are, well, you know… kids.   What if, she breaks all her earnest first-year-teacher-rules and… deviates from the plan and tells a story… from her life… what would it be?  Who knows?  Well, the writer, of course…

In real life we could drive ourselves crazy asking the question, “What if?”  What if I would have taken that job in New Jersey 43 years ago?  Would my kids be asking for a glass of ‘wooder’ when they’re thirsty?  What if I went to that other college?  Or didn’t go to college?  What if I would have been on I-94 that day, at that place and time when… you know?  What if ….

Of course, the ‘what if’ scenarios didn’t happen.  However, what if in looking back over the life-paths we’ve traveled, thinking about events that did happen – good and not-  our thoughts take us to another question.  “Why?”

Why has God blessed us so much with [You fill in the blanks.]…? Why was [you fill in the blanks] taken from us, so soon?  Or why was this person placed in my life at that time, that place?  Why is this kid in my class this year?  Why?  Why am I here?

Sometimes, not often, maybe rarely,  after a long time, we get, at least a partial answer to the question, “Why?”

I had the privilege of running into a few of my first students.  We had a rollicking good time reminiscing, reliving the time they were in middle school and talking about the present.  In a quiet moment one of them said to me, “You just don’t know what an influence you’ve had…”  Who knew?

Who knows?  That goes for all of us.  We don’t know… We don’t know to what extent God has used our  talents, personalities, love and care to influence the lives of those around us.

Who knows?’  Often we shrug our shoulders, roll our eyes, move on and think about something else.  We plead ignorance.  Of course  we don’t know…. but deep down we do.

God is the master story teller.  He knows the beginning, middle and the end of all of our stories.  He has been at work in our lives from before the beginning, calling, nudging, pushing or even dragging us, sometimes kicking and screaming, to where we are, have been and will be, for his glory, his kingdom, his loved ones.

‘What if…?  Why… ? Who knows…?  ”  God knows, and gives us what we need to know –  “because… who knows but that you have come here ….” – for these students, for the people in your lives, for God’s kingdom – “…. for such a time as this?”

Today’s Free Train Coffee…

I know… I know… It’s like an obsession with me, this free coffee thing on the train. It’s not that I’m cheap, but it’s the challenge. Can I get a free cup of coffee out of the cafe car attendant from a decades old promotion, that involved buying a souvenir Amtrak mug, that promised endless coffee ‘til mug do us part?

So, today I was awake early. I had things to read and write so I headed past my sleeping fellow travelers for coffee, without the mug, just to check on who’s selling the coffee on this train. It was Marshal. He seemed friendly enough and one who would honor the coffee deal. So why not give it a shot.

So give it a shot I did. I went back and this time ordered my yogurt and coffee and greeted Marshal with my mug. After some friendly banter he proclaimed, “That will be two-dollars.” 

“Ah,” I thought. “Success!”

“No, wait,” he said. “I forgot the yogurt. That’ll be four-fifty.”

Bah! In an instant, success turned into failure, free turned into two-dollars.

So there you go… It’s not that I’m cheap… it’s the challenge. 

An Angel Story

IMG_1922Tomorrow is Christmas so I thought I’d post one of my stories written long ago and published in the “Christian Home and School” magazine.  It’s a bit long, but it’s one of my favorites.

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The predicted snow plastered the windows of Maddy Clark’s classroom drawing the students attention away from the inexperienced but earnest first year language arts teacher.  She tried to coax from her seventh graders a meaningful wrap-up to a writing unit on ‘heroes.’  Little did she know that she was fighting an uphill battle that day since it was the last class period of the last day before Christmas vacation.  The students were expecting fun but Maddy expected meaningful discussion.

“You’ll be my hero, Miss Clark, if we can have a party…” said Mark from his seat by the frosty windows.

“Yeh, Mr. DeWit gave us presents,” chirped in Ashley from the seat behind Mark.

“Just a candy cane,” said Mark with a grumble.

Like the storm cranking up outside, Maddy’s class was getting ready to burst in anticipation of the coming holiday break.  The next forty minutes would crumble into chaos if she didn’t take charge soon.

“Now, class…” She raised the volume a little bit.  “We’ve been talking about heroes…”

Ashley piped in, “I’m cold.”

“You’ll be fine.  Now about those heroes -,” said Maddy desperately trying to stick with the lesson plan.

“The wind is coming right in.  The curtains are moving!”  Maddy glanced at Ashley and then at Mark sitting in the seat in front of her, not so slyly moving the curtains with his ruler.

“Woooo …. wooooosh….”

Ashley giggled.

“Mark!  Stop!”  She clenched her jaw and proceeded in her strongest teacher voice.  “Describe for me some of the qualities of a he- ,”

She stopped.  Only a handful of her students were actually paying attention to her.  Most were absorbed in their own discussions.  Desperation quickly rose from deep within her.  She shouted, “I CAN GIVE DETENTIONS ON THE DAY BEFORE VACATION, … okay. ”  She regretted the tacked on ‘okay.’  She also regretted the fact that the door was open and her frustration overflowed into the hall.  Embarrassed, she calmly walked over to the door, closed it and turned to face the class.  A hand was in the air.

“Ashley?” she said.

“What’s that thing on your desk?”

“What thing?”

“That funny looking metal thing.”

“Nativity scene.”

“What’s that stuff  stickin’ out of the top?”  Ashley pointed to a group of metal wires poking up from the back of the metal stable.  Shiny, thin metal figures hung from each one.

“A heavenly host,” Maddy replied.

“Huh?” said a puzzled Ashley.

“Angels.” Maddy gave her an unprofessional roll of the eyes.

“Oh,” said Ashley.  “Mr. De Wit has angels hanging from his lights.”

“That’s nice,” Maddy said, tired of hearing about De Wit’s Christmas fun.

“Where d’ ja get it?”

“From a friend.”  Her curt answers indicated that no matter what, she was going to get back to ‘heroes.’

Ashley pressed on.  “When d’ ja get it?”

“When I was a kid.”

“You were a kid?” Mark said.  He looked around the room pleased to do his part in distracting the determined teacher.

“Yes, a long time ago –  I was about your age.”

“Do you believe in angels, Miss Clark?”  Ashley said.

“What’s with you and angels, anyway, Ashley?”  said Mark.

Ashley rolled her eyes at Mark.  “Well, like my neighbor…”  The last syllable floated off to the ceiling while Ashley collected her thoughts and said, “My neighbor’s cousin lives in some city like Chicago and like, her mother was visiting a friend in Iowa and this friend’s old college roommate stopped and picked up a hitchhiker – I don’t know why.  She just did.  And after they rode down the road for awhile, well, then they got a flat tire and were stopped by the side of the road.  And some mean looking guy stopped too, and walked up to the car.  He looked at the girl driving and then he looked in the back seat, you know, at the hitchhiker, and got this scared look on his face…”  She paused to take a breath.  “He, like turned around and almost ran back to his car.  The girl driver got real scared too.  She looked back at the hitchhiker and …” Ashley whispered, “He was gone!”

“Gone?” asked Mark, eyes open wide.

“That’s what she said.  I think it was an angel, don’t you, Miss Clark?  Do you believe in angels?”  For the first time that class period, it was quiet.  Ashley’s angel story had done what Maddy’s heroes had failed to do, bring order from chaos, which lasted for about eight seconds when twelve hands shot in the air and ten other students leaped in with their own versions of ‘angel mysteries.’

“My mom said – “

”There was this guy-“

”I was babysitting one night -“

”My minister said – “

”On TV once, I saw -“

Everyone wanted to get into the discussion.  Everyone had a story to tell, not about heroes, but angels.  The voices swelled up and crashed over her like a wave – and Maddy gave in.  She gave up her plan and dove in with a story of her own.  It was a story from her childhood that was, in some ways, like today’s class – in chaos.

Maddy recalled a foggy December night long ago when she and her family were introduced to the story of the Messiah, sent to bring shalom, peace to a chaotic creation.  Like Ashley’s angel story, it stilled a storm.  So, completely unplanned and deliciously spontaneous, Maddy told the class how God used a special person to deliver a message of peace to Maddy’s desperate family.

With sudden drama she exclaimed, “There I was…”  Her  hands floated in front of her as if trying to calm the storm of stories coming from the class as she began. She spoke softly as she began to tell her angel story.   “I was upstairs in my bedroom when I heard the bad news.”  Bad news grabbed the attention of some of the students.

“I shared a bedroom with my little sister, Katie, and what we liked to do instead of going to bed was spy on our parents!”  Maddy’s eyebrows arched upward.

“How d’ ja do that?”  Mark said.

“We’d  perch over the heat register in my bedroom which was right over the kitchen in the back of the house.  We could hear everything that was going on.  The sound came out of the register like an intercom.”  She nodded her head in the direction of the box hanging on the wall.  “It was great fun if we didn’t get caught.  Once, I dropped a marble down the register.  KABONG!  My mom yelled, ‘Madeleine Anne and Katie! You’re s’pose to be sleeping.’  Oops….”  Maddy grinned.  “We could hear everything.”

Mark said, “Your name is Madeleine?”

Maddy winked.  “I was about your age and I needed to know everything of course,”  She looked sideways at Mark.  “but I didn’t want to hear any talk about dying.”

“Someone was dying?  That was the bad news?”  Ashley said.

Maddy nodded.  “There was a whole lot of talk about death and dying…”  She wait a few seconds and bit her bottom lip.  “… and crying and arguing going on around the kitchen table.”  Everyone was listening now as Maddy Clark cracked open her life’s door and allowed her students to take a peek.

“Who died, Miss Clark?” said Mark.

“You see, my little sister, Katie, was sick – really sick.  Some kind of virus they said.  They took her to the hospital and everything.  She was supposed to get better in the hospital.  Right?”  Ashley nodded.   

“I was so sorry I eavesdropped.  I didn’t want to know the things they were crying and yelling about.  The longer my sister was in the hospital the worse things got.  I didn’t need to listen at the register.  I heard the fights through the pillow I held over my head.”

Her chin quivered, suggesting that even though she had regained control of her class, she was about to lose control herself.  She remembered that the longer Katie was in the hospital the greater the turmoil in her home became.  Those were bad times.

“So, who was it,  Miss Clark, the one who … died?  Your little sister?”  Mark asked again.  Maddy looked deeply into Mark’s eyes.

“Stop interrupting!”  Ashley said.  Her disapproving bark melted into sympathy when she turned to her teacher and said, “Go ahead, Miss Clark.”

Maddy slipped into a smile and said, “Thanks, Ashley.”  She continued.  “We had this neighbor.  She lived in the house behind ours.  Her backyard and our backyard were adjacent.”  She waited for Mark’s inevitable question about the meaning of the word ‘adjacent.’  It didn’t come.  “She was really – .”

“Weird?” said Mark.

“Uh,  interesting, or maybe quirky would be a better word,” Maddy said.  “She was very creative, an artist, I guess.  She made sculptures – mostly out of metal.  She could weld things!  She made this nativity scene.”  Maddy held it up.

“Well, this neighbor, Alice, had some form of cancer and was going through something called chemotherapy, to help her get better.”

Ashley’s hand shot up, then she said, “My mom’s friend’s sister had chemotherapy and she got really sick from it.”

“That’s too bad,” said Maddy.

“And, she lost all her hair!” said Ashley.

“About that time Alice lost her’s too.  But we got used to it that way, because she was at our house all the time.  She was a good friend.”

“Okay!  Okay!  What about the angel?  You know – the angel?”  Mark spit out the questions.

“Ah, yes…”  Maddy rubbed her chin and gazed out over the class, “the angel… a messenger from God…”

“One night I was in my room – alone of course.  Katie had been in the hospital for a few weeks.  She couldn’t breath.  She was hooked up to all kinds of machines and tubes.  She wasn’t doing very well.”  Maddy cleared her throat.  “It was just my mom and me at home.”

Maddy’s voice took on a ominous tone.  “It was a foggy, misty, dreary night and I was looking out of my window down into the backyard.  Suddenly, the backyard light popped on.  Something was out there.  I couldn’t tell what.  The halo of  light barely penetrated the dense fog.”  Slowly, deliberately, almost whispering, Maddy went on.  “A figure emerged … from the trees… out of the darkness … I couldn’t see much, but as it gradually penetrated the small circle of light I saw a… a… white robe shimmering in the light …  and then a halo… and then the wings…”  Her voice trailed off.

Ashley shivered, then scrunched around in her seat and settled forward, chin propped up by her hands resting on her desk.  “The angel…,” she whispered to Mark.

“Shhhhh… ,” he hissed back.

“This – whatever it was-  headed right for our backdoor… I heard a knock….”

“D’ja listen at the register?” Mark asked.

Maddy nodded and then looked around at the class.  “The stress of Katie being in the hospital was getting to all of us and now this.  I heard my mom say, ‘Oh, my…!’ and then nothing.  It was just me and my mom, you know – all alone, at night.”  Intensity grew in her voice.  “I crept out of my room, tiptoed down the hall and down the stairs.  I was sooo scared!

“The bright kitchen lights blinded me when I peeked  into the room.  I thought I saw my mom crying.  I inched farther out into the room for a better look and I saw my mom crying… and laughing… and hugging a bald headed angel…. Alice!”

“Your neighbor was an angel?”  Mark said.

“Shhhhhhh…,” Ashley said.

“Alice saw me and in her kind way said, ‘Shalom.’  And then in typical bubbly Alice-style she told us all about making angel costumes for her church’s Christmas pageant and thought she’d try one on … and on and on she talked…” Maddy took a breath, “and then Alice said, ‘I thought of you.’  Maddy reached over to her desk and picked up the metal nativity scene.  She held it out to the class.  “‘I have a gift for you.  Let me tell you about it.’ That’s what Alice said to me and my mom.  So the three of us, me, my mom and an ‘angel’ sat around table laughing, crying, talking and praying as Alice told us the story behind the figures in the nativity scene.”

“That night changed my life,” said Maddy just as the bell for the beginning of Christmas vacation sounded.  She had to stop now, but she knew she’d somehow continue telling the story of Christmas through the things she did with her students.

As the students surged past Maddy standing by the doorway, Mark and Ashley hung back.

“Miss Clark?”

“Yes, Mark.”

“Whatever happened to… Katie… your sister?”

Maddy’s face lit up.  “Ask her yourself.”  Maddy grabbed the hand of a young woman standing in the hall, waiting to go Christmas shopping with her sister.

“Mark and Ashley, I’d like you to meet my little sister, Katie.

“You’re alive!” Ashley blurted.

Katie laughed, “Yes, I am.”  She looked at Maddy.  “You told them about Alice, eh?”

“Yep,” she said.  “A little angel story is just what we needed to make it through the day.”  Maddy grinned as Mark and Ashley wished the Clark sisters Merry Christmas and rushed off to catch their bus.

Coffee

Ahhhhh…. That was good coffee! Train coffee! Free coffee! Yes, friends, the train travel free-coffee-challenge took place this morning somewhere on the tracks in Pennsylvania.

Many, years ago I bought a souvenir Amtrak coffee mug. It wasn’t cheap, but the promise was free coffee, any train, as long as Amtrak is riding the rails. Since then my personal quest has been to get that free cup o’ coffee no matter who the cafe car attendant is. Today it was Robert and here’s how the whole encounter went down.

I walked up to the counter. Smiling, Robert said, “Can I help you?”

Smiling back I said, I’d like a yogurt (Always buy something to go with the free coffee.) and a cup of coffee. I slid my mug across the counter. “Have you ever seen one of these before?” I thought I’d try the indirect ‘small-talk’ approach.

“No, never saw one of those before,” Robert said. Then with a chuckle he said, “Those go way back before my time. Never even saw one in a display.” Grin. Grin.

“Yep,” I said, “This goes way back. It could probably be a museum piece.” I gave a little guffaw. 

Robert smiled, filled the cup, slid it back over the counter and said, “that’ll be $2.50… For the yogurt.” 

“Thanks,” I said, and lurched back to my seat, carrying my yogurt and coffee. Ahhh…. Good, free, train coffee.  Heh, heh…

Thanksgiving

Once again I’m sitting on the train. We’re zipping through soggy Ohio on our way to a family Thanksgiving holiday in New York. I can’t wait. We already know what the main part of the menu will be – turkey. Pretty traditional, pretty tasty.

Once upon a time, at school I taught in a long time ago, we had a Thanksgiving tradition. On the Wednesday afternoon before Thanksgiving Thursday, after we sent the students home for the holiday, we went someplace for lunch together. The entire staff, there were about five of us, drove to a nearby pizza joint. It became our annual Thanksgiving tradition… Italian style. 

The details were a bit sketchy, but we figured that sometime, someplace, Italian pilgrim, Giovanni Something or other, and his band landed in Massachusetts. After sailing great distances in ships built by the great grand descendants of Enzo Ferrari, they landed near Plymouth Rock. So thankful to have new neighbors, the traditional English pilgrims brought out the pizza crust, mozzarella and pepperoni and had feast of thanksgiving to welcome their new paisanos to the New World. I may not have the story quite right but I remember sharing a tasty lunch with group of good caring people.

Yesterday, I remembered  a traditional Thanksgiving psalm, with my class, Psalm 100. Some of them remembered memorizing it when they were younger. I memorized it at some point in my life. My own kids memorized it when they were little and I’m sure that my grandchildren have or will put the words of the Psalm in their heads and hopefully their hearts. It reminds us that “… God’s love endures forever and his faithfulness continues through all generations.”

So, whether the menu today includes traditional turkey, pizza, spaghetti or whatever, it’s good to give thanks to God for, ________.    Well, you fill in the blanks.

Words…

Today we said’ “Goodbye,” to our friend, Kevin.

In the past week thousands of words have been spoken, written, read and sung — comforting words, angry words, encouraging words, gospel words, words of peace and words unable to be voiced.

I believe all of these words are gifts from the God who loves us and wants us to be comforted, to have peace.

Tonight, however, I’m ready to put the words away for awhile and ‘be still.’

It’s time for me to be still and know that whatever comes of all of this is in the hands of our loving God.  I know this because of his Words.

God himself is reminding us to  “…be still and know that I am God…” [Psalm 46:10]

Today’s gift.  Enough said.

Little Things

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Sometimes it’s the little things that people do that have a big effect.  Not a big deal to the one who does the little thing, but a big deal for the one who receives it.  A small act of kindness, at the right time, delivers just what we need. That’s how it was with a card that showed up in the teacher’s workroom today.

I don’t know the family very well.  I taught their kids at one time.  There it was on the counter, a greeting card from them, with a handwritten note … a little thing …

“…Although we didn’t know Kevin… clearly felt your immense anguish…  sincere sympathy…”

 Simple words profound meaning.  Great effect, wonderful comfort.

That’s what struck me today… Then I wondered about the  ‘little things’ I do.  Helpful? Not so helpful? Big effect, no effect, ‘eh! whatever’ effect.  God can use those little things that we do, and often unknown to us, works his purpose for his kingdom through our hands.  And, that’s no little thing.