Sisters?

    Lorraine and I are only two and a half years apart in age. We've always been as different as night and day! We didn't look anything alike as children. I had dark hair and she had light hair. We have many memories of our childhood. I've written about some of them in another story here on this blog. Lorraine was going to be a teacher and I was going to be a mother! Lorraine was ambitious and accomplished both goals.
     It seems that as we've grown older we've also grown alike! Our hair is now close to the same. We've had folks get us mixed up when we've gone somewhere. We've been asked if we're twins if we're at the same place at the same time! It's really quite comical!
     Here's a funny experience we had a few years ago.
     We were together on a train going from Portland to Seattle. There we rented a car and drove up to Stanwood where our parents lived in a lovely senior community.
     We were both dressed for travel. Lorraine had on black slacks and a black sweater with a white shirt underneath, the white collar on the outside. I had on a dark brown pant suit with a white shirt. 
     We noticed the women across the aisle looking at us often and smiling. We'd smile back. Then we decided to go get some coffee and a bite to eat. As we stood up the women smiled even bigger smiles and nodded!
     We thought this was strange but let it go.
     When we went back to our seats one of the women said, "Hello, are you sisters?" 
     "Yes, we are sisters." I replied rather surprised.
     "We thought so!" She said enthusiastically! "What diocese are you from?" 
     "What? Oh, no, we're not Sisters, we're sisters...blood sisters. We're not even Catholic! Oh dear."
     The women apologized over and over, but we assured them it was fine. 
     We've laughed over this episode so many times. We knew we were perfect (!) but we didn't know other folks thought we were! When we told our dad about this experience he laughed and laughed. Being a Protestant minister, to picture his two daughters as Catholic nuns, was quite a funny sight.
     I have deep respect for the Catholic Church as well as my own Evangelical Church. Living according to God's Word, believing that Jesus is the Son of God and accepting Jesus as personal Savior is what matters.

You Want Me To Do What? or A Seed Planted

 There were a few years, when my children were young, that I took care of other children in my home. One sweet little girl was Laura. Her mother, Shellie, was a single mom, a school teacher and guardian of her own teenage brother, Roger.

  Shellie brought Laura to my house every morning and picked her up in the afternoon after school. We became good friends, and visited often.

  After about a year and a half Shellie said they would be moving to Arizona as soon as school was over for the year. I felt bad because I would miss them but knew it was her decision.

  One day as I went about my housework I realized that in all our visiting and talking we had never talked about God or Jesus or church, none of the things that really matter in life. I began to feel like God was speaking to me about this. I didn’t know what I could do about it at this point because she’d soon be leaving.

  One evening I left all my family at home while I went to buy groceries. As I drove I heard a still small voice telling me to go and visit Shellie before I went home. That was ridiculous and I couldn’t imagine why I felt so strongly that I should go to her apartment. Then the thought came that this was a time when I could talk to Shellie about God and my beliefs!

  What? Lord, you want me to do what??? I couldn’t do that. She hadn’t asked me what I believe. We had never gotten that personal in our conversations.

  The feeling became so strong that I began to argue with God! It was evening, she was probably watching TV. No, the TV is off. Laura would be up demanding our attention so we couldn’t talk seriously. Laura is already in bed asleep.  Roger would be there too so we couldn’t have a conversation with just the two of us. Roger is studying in his bedroom.

  I had to drive past their apartment house on my way home from the supermarket. I was driving slowly, still arguing with God. When I came to her driveway...my car turned in! I prayed as I slowly walked up to the door, “Lord, I can’t believe I’m doing this. You’d better be with me! Please tell me what to say.”

  I knocked lightly on the door. Shellie answered it with a surprised look on her face. “May I come in?” I asked nervously.

  As I looked around she invited me to sit down. The TV was off. Laura was already asleep for the night. Roger was in his bedroom studying! There we were, Shellie and me, sitting together in the quietness of her living room.

  I began to explain why I was there. She said very earnestly, “I’ve always wondered what your beliefs are! Please tell me.”

  For the next few minutes I told her about my relationship with Jesus. He is alive and is a living reality within me! He is my very own personal Savior. She thanked me for sharing with her. She didn’t make any move to ask Jesus into her life. But I feel I did what God asked me to do and perhaps, I planted a seed.

  Thank You, Lord, for going with me that evening, for giving me courage, for helping me to obey and most of all, for speaking through me. Please help her, in Your Timing, to invite You into her life as her own personal Savior.

What More Could Any Little Girl Want? (Repost)

     Through most of my elementary school days it seemed that Daddy was gone away more than he was home. During those years he traveled as an evangelist.

       As I look back, I remember the warm, secure feeling I experienced when he was home for a few days, after having been gone for two or three months---a feeling all warm and cozy as I went to bed at night. After all my Daddy was home! What more could any little girl want?

       Always, on the day of his arrival home, excitement ran high. And always, after things settled down to a fairly normal pitch, he would open his big, black suitcase and take out a present for each of us. He never forgot!

       It's a natural thing to want to share all the days events with the ones we love. I used to store up in my mind all the wonderful, exciting things Molly, my best friend, and I discovered as we played. But, somehow, I never seemed to have a chance to tell Daddy all the things that are so important to a little girl of seven. I still remember the day when it all came to a head.

       Daddy had come home again. My little brother, Billy, was sitting on his lap; my older brother, Richard, and sister, Lorraine, were competing for his attention. I waited for my turn as long and as patiently as I could, but suddenly I could wait no longer. I stomped my foot and shouted, "It's my turn to talk to Daddy!"

       Everyone stopped talking and looked straight at me in complete surprise. I'm still not sure whether I or the rest of the family was more startled. There was complete silence for a few seconds, then Mother came to the rescue.

       "OK," she said. "Everyone be quiet now and let Anita talk."

       But in that very moment, all those big, important, wonderful things I had stored up in my mind to share with Daddy, suddenly became small, and I found I had nothing to say at all. Everyone was waiting to hear what I had to tell, but all I could do was stand there. Two big tears began to trickle down my cheeks. Then Daddy's long arms reached out and folded around me. I began to sob. Tears flowed freely. Then, as he held me close, I stopped crying, and that warm, secure feeling spread through me again. After all, my Daddy was home! What more could any little girl want?

My Own Personal Swami

     This goes back to the 80's. I had a friend from India named Chandana. I loved her name and I loved her. I've lost track of her over the years and I'm so sorry. 
     She invited me to her house one day to meet with a man who was visiting her family. The man was a Swami from India. She told me he was interested in helping the people who were less fortunate. His interest, of course, was mainly India. Chandana thought it would be good for him to hear of what some Americans were doing to help poor folks in other countries. She knew our church had an interest in Haiti and that many, myself included, had gone there to work.
     So I went to visit the Swami. I didn't know what to expect and found him dressed in orange cotton pants with an orange matching cotton long shirt, which hung over his pants. He was barefoot, sitting on the floor, with his legs folded, Indian style. Chandana pulled a chair up for me. Then she introduced us and explained to the Swami why I was there. His English was quite good.
     First of all he told me all about the wonderful work he was involved in, in India. Chandana reminded him why I was there.      
     He asked me questions about Haiti and our  involvement. I tried to answer his questions but they were so cut and dried, I found myself telling him all about Ebenezer Glenn Orphanage in Dessalines, Haiti. It's the most wonderful Orphanage and God is there!
     He made a critical comment to me about Christianity. I explained to him that Christianity is one of the religions in the world but that while I am Christian, I'm Evangelical Christian. There's a big difference, I said. I went on to explain that I have asked Jesus for forgiveness of my sins and invited Him to live in my heart.
      I then told the story in the third chapter of John about Nicodemus going to Jesus at night and asking how to receive eternal life. I boldly said, "Jesus is alive and is a living reality within me!" 
     He told me he had talked to many Christian leaders all over the world and he had never heard anything like that before! He took a paper and pen from his shirt pocket and said he wanted to write down what I had said! 
     He was writing in his own language so I have no idea what he wrote. Our visit ended and I never saw the Swami again. Driving home I knew I had just experienced something very special. The Holy Spirit had done the talking, I was just the instrument! What a privilege. 
     I have prayed for him over the years. Only God knows the result of our visit that day. For a while I felt guilty because perhaps I didn't say enough. But, I've left this Swami in God's Hands. I'm hoping and praying that he studied Christianity in a whole different light and that I'll see him in heaven some day!
     
       

Homesick

     One of my first students as an ESL tutor was a little Japanese boy about six years old, Susumu. He was a delightful boy. We became good friends and he worked hard for me. Children learn to speak a new language so quickly. I worked with him for one hour five days a week, three days at home and two days at school. 
     A friend gave me a map of Japan,  so one day I took it to school with me. It happened to be all written in Japanese! I couldn't read it. I took it out of my bag and before I could even open it out, Susumu grabbed it! He had noticed the Japanese writing. He ran to center of the room, opened the map out full size, spread it out on the floor and laid on it! 
     Then I knew...sometimes he looked so sad, sometimes he looked unhappy. He was homesick! This was as close as he could get to Japan! There he laid on the floor, on the map. I let him lay there. Finally he looked up at me. I smiled. He slowly got up. We folded the map together. We talked about Japan and had a slow relaxed hour. I think he liked that. We bonded that day. 
     The family returned to Japan after their five years with the company here. I've lost contact with them. I pray for their well being and safety. 
     I wish I knew how they are now.

My Best Mother's Day Gift

Mother's Day is almost here. I'm writing this story a little early just because I thought of it the other day. 

     Our church used to honor a mother for Mother's Day by making her Mother of the Year! Everyone loved it and looked forward to the surprise of whom ever would be honored each year. 

     One year I was on the committee to choose the person for that year. We had folks write their candidate on a paper along with why that person was worthy to be honored.

     When we read the sheets one name stood out. It was my job, to find out all the information about her past and present, write a paragraph or two to be read on Sunday morning as they bestowed upon her the honor of being Mother of the Year. I took my job seriously and wrote down all the facts her daughter gave to me, in an interesting way. It was an important job and I loved this worthy lady.

     Sunday morning arrived and I was so excited. We arrived early so I could make sure everything was ready. We had a sash to drape over her shoulder and across her dress and a bouquet of red roses. We had a gold plaque made up with her name printed on it. It was already up on the pulpit. 

     Finally, it was time to start. I was sitting where I could see her face. The Sunday School Superintendent got up to make the presentation...

     Wait a minute... My heart stopped! He was reading the wrong name! Oh no! What had happened? All my work and something was very wrong. 

     Everyone was looking at me and smiling! Why were they smiling? Everything was going wrong. Then Jerry said, "Come on, they're waiting for you!" 

     "What? No, it's not me, it's ... " Oh no, what's happened? I can't be the one...I was on the committee! I'd never been so confused.

     Jerry was pulling me along and we were walking up to the front of the sanctuary! Our children were following. That is, all except my baby who was in the nursery. Oh man! What was I supposed to do: cry, smile, run the other way? (I wanted to run out of there) But I obediently walked forward, with my head down and Jerry holding my hand. (I think he knew I wanted to run.) 

     The superintendent was explaining to the congregation why I was so bewildered. To me he explained I had received the most nominations and he had taken them out before I saw them. (Oh, that was not nice.)

     Would you like to know the best part of that mixed up Mother's Day? That afternoon, our children were playing outside in the yard. I went to check on them and what to my wondering eyes...?! My children reenacting the Mother of the Year presentation! I almost cried. To my children I was Mother of the Year! That was the best gift I ever received!

My Friend, Mariko

     I'm having a hard time writing the continuing story of my friend, Mariko, because of the recent tragedy in Japan. I have so many friends in Japan and don't know how to make contact with them.
I'm, of course, praying for them.


     The story continues after Mariko and her family moved back to Japan. We corresponded occasionally. She was growing spiritually. 
     The phone rang one day, Hedeki's voice was unmistakable! He was in town on business! Could we get together for a visit? He didn't have to ask twice! 
     I went to a shop to buy gifts for the family. I knew he'd have gifts for me! We met in the foyer of my church! He had attended the International Bible study class before they moved so he was comfortable meeting there.
     Sure enough, he had gifts for me so we had fun exchanging with each other. We had a good visit and he told me about each one in the family. It was so good to be with him! Then he said, "I must tell you that Mariko is a very good Christian!" I was thrilled. "She wanted me to tell you." I thanked him for sharing such good news with me. Then I said, "But, Hedeki, what about you? Are you a Christian?" 
     "Oh, no," he said, "not yet. Someday I will be, but I'm not ready to yet."
     I became very bold at that moment and said, "But, Hedeki, what if something happens to you, like an accident or sickness, and you were to die. Do you know where you'd go? I'll be praying for you that you'll believe in Jesus." He thanked me.
     A few years after that wonderful day with Hedeki I went to Thailand and had an over night stopover in Japan! I wrote to Mariko and another friend telling them I would be there on a certain day, staying in a certain hotel. I'd love to see them if possible. 
     I bought gifts to take with me and at the last minute bought three instead of two...just in case!
     After a long flight, I arrived in Japan and finally at the hotel. I was greeted by three entire families! I was so glad I bought that extra gift! One friend called another friend, that I had no address for, but I had tutored their children. It was so good to see them too! Even the husbands were there! I've never felt so welcomed in my life!
     What a great visit we had over a meal together! My students had all grown so much! 
     When it was time to say good-bye I took Mariko's hand and said softly, "I'm praying for you."
     She smiled, "Thank you."
     A few years later, I received a note in the mail: "Hedeki and our son are both being baptized!"
     What a thrill to receive that message! I'm still rejoicing!