Saturday, March 21, 2009

My Tuesday With Morrie


On Monday, one of my students came in with a book that she is supposed to read for her scholarship program. It was Tuesdays With Morrie. I had seen the book on display in the bookstores about a year ago. This was about the same time that another book was popular called The Last Lecture. I didn’t read that book, but I did watch the video presentation and showed it to a couple of my classes last year. I wonder what allows some people the privilege to ponder how they live and how they live out there last days. My first inclination is that it must be something that the only the well off can afford to do, but that doesn’t seem to hold true especially for the examples of the rich and famous who always seem to be seeking applause or even negative attention so long as it is attention. It reminds me of some students whom I think needed to be held more as babies. Well, without too much digression, I asked if I could check it out. I looked at the first page or so. However, she forgot to pick it up, and I forgot to give it back, so I got to spend Tuesday with Morrie. (I had to call-in because of child care).

It seems that both of these professors decided to live life doing the things that suited them, chasing their dreams, and shining a little light (or as it turns out very big lights) where they were. “Neither do men light a candle, and put it under a bushel, but on a candlestick; and it giveth light unto all that are in the house.” (Matt 5:15 KJV)

It just so happens that I’ve been weighing the quality of my own life. For quite a while, I’ve felt the pressure and heat of the crucible that has become my home. It struck me as odd last week when another straw landed that I could just shrug it off. I’m still not sure why it didn’t really bother me. A; I’m too frustrated to allow it to affect me and I’ve given up, B; fire forged me strong enough to endure more disappointment and dashed hope, C; I’ve obviously lost what little piece of mind I had left, or D; some of my true friends just happened to pray that I don’t go postal. Mitch Albom the author of Tuesdays quotes Morrie as saying, “So many people walk around with a meaningless life. They seem half-asleep, even when they’re busy doing things they think are important. This is because they’re chasing the wrong things. The way you get meaning into your life is to devote yourself to loving others, devote yourself to your community around you, and devote yourself to creating something that gives you purpose and meaning.” (p. 43) I can’t say that I was chasing the wrong things, because I wasn’t doing that necessarily. However, I often wonder if my motive for chasing the right things became more selfish than gracious. Does that make sense? Imagine your beloved gave you the thing your heart most desires. For visualization sake, we’ll say that your significant other gave you the car (if it were me, it’d be a 1967 Corvette- convertible blue metallic flake with black racing stripe) you always wanted. Then you spend all washing, waxing, accessorizing, driving and at Auto Zone. I began to define myself by “the car.” And the relationship with the Giver wasn’t as important as the gift to me. I fell into doing things to keep the car happy. Yeah, wouldn’t you feel better Carrie (some cars are named by their owners) with a nice wash and wax? Anyway, before I go plumb crazy with this. All too often we define ourselves by our jobs, our stuff, our relationships, and any other things or activities that are all vanity. “Vanity of vanities…all is vanity.” (Ecclesiastes 12:8) I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of being self-conscious. I just want to do me. I never completely fit in anywhere anyway. And if it’s not about love, then it’s not about anything. “Jesus replied: " 'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.' 38This is the first and greatest commandment. 39And the second is like it: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.'” (Matt 22:37,38)

Friday, March 13, 2009

No Coincidences


Matthew 25:40, NIV. "The King will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for Me.' "

Another from Sister Max.

Please put _______ on your prayer list also. We were having A.Y. outside on Prospect because we couldn't get in the church and 2 seemingly high females were observing us from across the street. One started singing Father Abraham with us, and kept saying "I know that song, I know that song". The deacon finally came and opened the door and Vicki suggested we stay outside anyway and finish since people on the street were paying attention. So we did.. When it came time to pray I yelled across the street and asked what her name was, so we could lift them up and she said _________. I briefly thought "I have a cousin named _________." Then I asked for them to come join us and Vicki was also inviting them over. Initially they didn't want to but one encouraged the other and both came. Her voice sounded familiar to me but I wasn't sure. I whispered to Michael that I thought one may be my cousin, before going into prayer. One grabbed my hand and the other grabbed her friend's and a kids and we prayed. After prayer I asked her what her last name was and she said Brown. I pulled her hat off, and looked in her eyes and I said "Oh My! Wow! Do you know who I am?" She stared at me for a few seconds and She said," yeah, you're my cousin, Millie". I just grabbed her close and squeezed her and she was holding me so tight. Before that moment she was one of several people hanging out on the street. Now, she was my cousin whom God had put on my path for a purpose.

All of that was ordained by God, I have no doubt. First, the deacon had to be late opening the church. Second, someone had to suggest that we sing outside while waiting.. Then it had to be that particular song, because that was the one she started marching around and singing with us on. Then when the deacon came to open the door, it still had to be suggested we stay outside anyway. Then she had to come and hold my hand because I may not have looked at her too deeply had she not come to me, and I may not have realized that she was familiar to me. She was so thin, and worn down from drug use and living on the street. I sat and talked with her, cried with her , and prayed with her for almost 2 hours, missing a birthday party for Sis Hinds we were going to. Reyhan took Mya and Maleeq with him and Victoria took Makaila while Michael was inside in a meeting. So it was her and I. She is tired she said, but feels she has no support system. Sometimes families of drug addicts, from what I understand, often get worn down, and wash their hands of the person. _______ wanted to go to detox, I gave her my card with my number and told her I would pray she made it there, and if she did, I would support her. I haven't heard from her yet, but reminded her I would be there on Sabbaths looking for her. I told her if she lost my number, just make it back to the church on Sabbath. Sis Marie Winchester and I prayed with her before letting her go. We put her in God's hands, and I asked Him to increase my faith.

I don't believe in coincidences. I don't have the gift of singing, even though I sing. I don't have the gift of speaking even though I talk. I'm not an artist or writer even, BUT I can love unconditionally with power from God. I can hold those who most shun, and I can listen and cry with them. I can pray with them and for them. There's no way that meeting was not ordained by the Lord. I believe God wants ________ back and Beacon Light is on Prospect for a reason. I know the congregation is ready to be back in their own church but God has a work to be done there before going back, and it won't be time to move until God sees fit. Some feel the move back is long overdue and deadlines have come and gone and B-Light is still on Prospect. If they had moved back then we would not have been there outside on Prospect singing "Father Abraham".

I believe God will deliver _______ Brown. Although, my story is not the same, I required delivery, and have learned it's a process.

Sister's Max's Testimony


A Testimony from My Sister

Dear Family, You and your prayers are very much appreciated. It warmed my heart when I was informed you were praying for me.
My testimony is this: I had been having abdominal pains for several months and I had been treated for stomach issues. The pain was still persistant. I had been to several doctors in the past and finally decided it would just be something I'd have to live with. Nothing seemed to help. I had alot of sleepless nights which in turn caused me to be fatigued and have constant headaches. Everyday I was taking headache pain medicine like vitamins.

My husband finally convinced me to go just one more time to our new primary caregiver, and relunctant ly I went and once again explained symptoms I had explained many times before. She looked at me and simply said it sounds like my gall bladder. That was the first time anyone suspected it may be that. They sent me to the VA hospital to have some tests done where they injected me with a dye and put me in a machine and checked my organs' functions. The conclusion was my gall bladder was non-functioning and inflammed. OK, thank you Jesus, at least now I knew what was going on. I met with a surgeon a couple of weeks later and my surgery was scheduled for Dec 16th. I had just started working a new job and did not want to take off work right away so I asked if they could move it back to right after the holidays. I felt a couple of more weeks wouldn't hurt. The doctor agreed, but he said before he did the surgery he was going to order a MRI for me to check out everything in my midsection, he said he wasn't comfortable doing it without making sure nothing else was going on. That Sabbath I sat in Beacon Light listening to a sermon, and he spoke about fasting and praying. I decided to test The Word and started my 40 Day fast which included a vegan diet, and I began to read The Desire of Ages for the first time from front to back. How Awesome is Jesus? If you've read it then you know what I mean. No one can love like that, but we sure can keep trying.

Sabbath I started the fast, Monday they did the MRI, Wedsday he called me with these results. His exact words were. "Mrs Besch, your MRI came back normal...Yeah, it came back normal". He said it twice as if I had asked him to repeat himself.

Get as scientific as you like, but I know God healed me and He did it with a quickness. The last time I popped a pill for pain was the same day I went to take the MRI. I haven't popped one since. Several people told me how they had their gall bladder removed, and how once it stopped functioning it had to come out, but guess what?!? God jumpstarts gallbladders!!!

I sleep better. I pray more, and God listens to me. I know because He consistantly shows me He hears me. He answers simple prayers. There are so many testimonies I can share but I will just have to put it in a book.

Everyday I test His word and everyday He passes the test. Yes Satan is busy, but God is All Powerful! Omnipotent! Jehovah Raphi!

Proverbs 3:5 says trust in the Lord and lean not on your own understanding. I decided to do that, because my understanding initially was my gall bladder was dead and there was no other alternative.

Like my cousin Demetria says----"Look at God!!"

Thank you for praying with me, my family! If you can hear this letter being read than you are my family. I love you.

Wednesday, March 04, 2009

Willing to Give Everything


I was in the Army and I hated it. I hadn't even been in for a year yet at the time, but I hated it. When I got off the bus at Basic Training, I already knew that I had made a mistake and it became more evident the longer that I was in. I met people who had enlisted in other branches of the military, and I found that each branch had it's up side. The Marines had those sharp uniforms and all of that Esprit De Corps which simply means that they looked better in their caskets, so I was most impressed with the Navy and Air Force guys that I met. They regaled me with stories of how easy life for them was. And I lamented the decision that I had hastily made to join the Army because they were offering an $8000 bonus and not even that after taxes. But the day that I'm thinking of is the day that I was on the starting line of the last event of my PFT (Physical Fitness Test) so that I could graduate from Language School. I had finished BT almost a year prior to being on that starting line, and I had been on that starting line many many times. But each time was just as difficult if not more so than the last. I had already finished the pushups and passed with flying colors, and the situps with the same result. The thing that always got me, from my very first day in the military was the 2 mile run (timed). I always thought how unfair it was that the women in the company got more time than me, after all, we were in the same Army, and in the same Military Specialty, so that meant that we would be doing the same work, so if I had to be in the kind of shape to make the run in under 20 minutes, why did they get 30? So, there I was, on the starting line again, my heart still throbbing from all of the pushups and situps. There were always those cocky guys for whom running was no thang, hopping up and down at the starting line, kicking each leg like they were world class sprinters about to begin the race to set another record, eager to go. And there was me, praying in my mind, "God please just let me finish in 19 mins and 59 seconds" but trying not to look worried because I didn't want that kind of embarrassment. BANG! the gun fired and off we ran. The first lap of the 8 we had to do always told the story for me on how I was going to do. I always assessed how tired I was after that lap and knew then and there whether that day was going to end in victory or crushing defeat and suffering the humiliation of having to take the entire PFT again, and alone with the entire company of over 200 soldiers having passed and me out there being pitied and ridiculed in there minds.

I left the starting line, when I crossed it again the timekeeper yelled out my name and my time, I was dead tired, totally spent, but I had 7 laps to go. This particular PFT was more significant than the ones leading up to it for two reasons; first I had to pass it to graduate from Language school. One has to dig very deep to try and come up a connection between speaking another language and how many pushups, and situps you can do in 2 mins. or running 2 miles in under 20 minutes. I personally never made the connection if there actually ever was one. But the 2nd reason was the most important. As I said, I hated the Army and the only thing worse than being in the Army was to being and enlisted man in the Army. But I had made this serious error in judgment, failing to avoid this particular slice of misery, so I decided to try and make the best of it by applying to OCS (Officer's Candidate School) but of course this required me to jump through several of those proverbial "hoops" that we keep hearing about in in life; I had to pass a test (no problem), with a high score (again no problem), I had to have the appropriate number of college credits if not a degree (no problem), and lastly I had to get my commander's signature and endorsement on my application (PROBLEM!!!). Y'see my commander had taken me aside one day leading up to this PFT; "Wilson" she said "you haven't proven to me that you are Officer material" "Ma'am?" I replied, she continued "Sure you have the test scores and the academic record, but your score on the PFT is just barely passing, so I'm not going to endorse your paperwork until I get the results of the next PFT" I considered bringing up the fact that the requisites for OCS only stated that you had to have passed your latest PFT, but thought better of it.

Crossing the starting line for the 4th time, my legs were lead weights, my feet burning logs, inside sweat filled sneakers. "You're behind Wilson, better pump it up!" the time keeper hollered. My mind raced through hundreds of escape scenarios, trying to sieze on the best "out" for this situation, or how to do the seemingly impossible.

Lap 6, "got to get rid of this Python crushing my lower back" I had just begun to think when my "nature" kicked in and I began to do something that I'd done my whole life, looking for an excuse to quit or compromise. My thoughts went back to Junior High School, field day, I was running the mile and my chest was burning just like it was now, my mind raced then as now to sieze on just the right excuse to quit and yet save face, as 5'3" Tammy Hamilton, the only girl in the race, scooted past and lapped me, quickly I clutched my chest, fell to my knees (being sure to hit the grassy part of the track on the infield, and pretended to faint. It worked and I had my excuse and the sympathy of the crowd. But that wouldn't work in this case, while I could indeed fall out and pretend to faint, I would still not pass the PFT and I certainly wouldn't get that endorsing signature from the Captain either. But, I thought to myself, "being enlisted isn't so bad, do I really need this aggrevation in my life, who wants to be an officer, how dare the Captain put her own rules in the mix, I didn't want to be an officer anyway, maybe..." and on and on it went like that.

End of Lap 7, timekeeper "18 mins 20 secs, Wilson". Now it was just me, the 3 or 4 fat people on weight loss PT, and most of the women left on the track going into lap 8. I couldn't feel my feet anymore, which was a blessing, my chest felt like I had white hot spears being hurled into me, my head was pulsating twice it's size and back, clothing drenched in blood, sweat and tears, each step was a new adventure in torture and pain, I swore that I could hear my knee caps bursting apart and even my mind hurt. With the finish line in sight I heard the timekeeper counting "19 minutes...19 minutes 10 seconds...19 minutes 30 seconds..." the finish line was blurred by the heat wave and my failing eyesight. "19 minutes 46 seconds" CLICK-CLICK! The stop watch echoed loudly in my swollen ears as I crossed the finish line, "19 minutes 48 seconds Wilson, you made it". I hobbled over to a cement slab which bore a flag pole intending to sit down, but suddenly and violently my stomach lurched and contracted in the attempt to regurgitate what what it held, but there was nothing there but air, saliva, and as I was to find out shortly...blood.

Later, that evening at home, seated on the side of the tub, my feet soaking in warm epsom salt filled water, I looked up from watching my multitude of blisters to see my infant son pulling himself up on the side of the tub to try and look in, curious to see what was in there to bring that slouched look of relief to Daddy. He was having a hard time and I reached over to assist him to his feet, as I did so it caused me to reflect even deeper on what I'd done that day, and I was overcome with shame. I wouldn't be going to OCS. But that wasn't my fault right? I had given it my all, hadn't I? Sure I had, right? I didn't have anything left, so I shouldn't feel bad right? I even had the dry heaves because I'd given so much, surely I was off the hook for letting my son one day know that I coulda been an officer but...right? Then it dawned on me, No I hadn't given it my all. I hadn't, and I knew it because I was still alive and breathing, had I given it my all, had I wanted it badly enough I'd either have succeeded or died in the effort. What I gave was all that people thought was reasonable to give, and that was it. Preachers talk about giving until it hurts. If Christ Jesus had just given until it hurt, his mission would have been in vain, so he gave his life, he died and in so doing succeeded. I resolved to tell my son, as I looked at him, one day this story and remind him that if he really wants it, whatever "it" is. That he should be willing to give everything.


ADRIAN M. WILSON (guest writer- my bro)