The doctors were talking about me.
Three different times they thought I had died already.
It happened 54 years ago today.
"What happened?" I screamed to my hunting partner.
"I shot you."
"Where?"
"In the back of your head."
The bullet blinded me, and I lost a lot of blood.
Mom and Dad stayed at my hospital bedside and prayed 24/7.
On the fifth day the doctors told my parents, "If he lives he'll be a blubbering idiot," rather harsh, I'd say. And I think they were wrong.
On the eleventh day I walked out of the hospital with my sight coming back very well.
Over the years my late brother Don (he helped us start Children's Cup in 1992) would call me at random times and the only thing he's say was, "Well, you lived." Then he'd hang up laughing.
Yes, I lived and what a life God has given me.
Ask me if I believe in healings and miracles...
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Sunday, March 18, 2007
WHO WE HAVE BECOME TOGETHER
Nancy Reagan was asked what was the hardest thing to deal with during President Reagan’s years of Alzheimer’s.
“Not being able to share our memories together.”
Her words summed up a lot about companionship.
One of the great joys of added years is remembering where we have been, what has happened, and what we have shared—some hard, some wonderful, but all connecting our lives together.
Who doesn’t remember great marker-moments of growing up:
the strength of daddy’s arms as he hugged you,
the gentle haven of mommy’s embrace,
the first day of school,
the first award for achievement,
the first time you were allowed to take the family car out alone,
the first date,
the first kiss,
the first time you told me, “I love you,”
the wedding and becoming one,
(and from here on a lot of our two memories merge into one)
the baby’s first cries,
the first time our child said, “I love you,”
the first arrival on the mission field,
the births of our grandchildren,
and on and on the list grows.
Throughout our 48 years of marriage, one or the other of us has asked, “Want a flash-back?” And together we will remember an experience or conversation we had shared years ago.
We are blessed with flash-backs from all over the globe—America, Asia, Europe, Latin America, Australia, and Africa.
Flash-backs of faces and eyes of people whose lives we have been able to see changed with Jesus’ love.
Every memory is another link between our very souls.
Sometimes it brings laughter, maybe a warm tear, but always a sense of, “We shared that. It’s part of our lives. Nothing can take that away from us. In fact, it is us—it’s who we have become together.”
Too limiting to say we are the sum of our memories—certainly we are so much more—but what a great part memories play in shaping us.
I’m remembering a wonderful old song from my childhood days in church,
“Precious memories,
“How they linger.
“How they ever flood my soul.”
Thanks for the memories, Jean. I love you MTYLTT.
“Not being able to share our memories together.”
Her words summed up a lot about companionship.
One of the great joys of added years is remembering where we have been, what has happened, and what we have shared—some hard, some wonderful, but all connecting our lives together.
Who doesn’t remember great marker-moments of growing up:
the strength of daddy’s arms as he hugged you,
the gentle haven of mommy’s embrace,
the first day of school,
the first award for achievement,
the first time you were allowed to take the family car out alone,
the first date,
the first kiss,
the first time you told me, “I love you,”
the wedding and becoming one,
(and from here on a lot of our two memories merge into one)
the baby’s first cries,
the first time our child said, “I love you,”
the first arrival on the mission field,
the births of our grandchildren,
and on and on the list grows.
Throughout our 48 years of marriage, one or the other of us has asked, “Want a flash-back?” And together we will remember an experience or conversation we had shared years ago.
We are blessed with flash-backs from all over the globe—America, Asia, Europe, Latin America, Australia, and Africa.
Flash-backs of faces and eyes of people whose lives we have been able to see changed with Jesus’ love.
Every memory is another link between our very souls.
Sometimes it brings laughter, maybe a warm tear, but always a sense of, “We shared that. It’s part of our lives. Nothing can take that away from us. In fact, it is us—it’s who we have become together.”
Too limiting to say we are the sum of our memories—certainly we are so much more—but what a great part memories play in shaping us.
I’m remembering a wonderful old song from my childhood days in church,
“Precious memories,
“How they linger.
“How they ever flood my soul.”
Thanks for the memories, Jean. I love you MTYLTT.
Friday, March 16, 2007
DR. BEYDA UPDATE
The prognosis is good!
Not as bad as originally diagnosed.
God is intervening.
Thanks for praying.
Not as bad as originally diagnosed.
God is intervening.
Thanks for praying.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
PRAY FOR DR. DAVID BEYDA
Dr. Beyda just brought another medical team to conduct clinics for our AIDS orphans and vulnerable children sites in Swaziland and Mozambique.
He is hospitalized right now in neighboring South Africa having an attack of kidney stones--very painful and risking renal failure.
This leading Arizona physician has selflessly established the Children's Cup medical program and clinic--much at his own personal expense. He loves God and travels the world conducting clinics for hurting people who could never repay him.
I love and respect this man and am asking God to restore his full health.
Will you join me?
He is hospitalized right now in neighboring South Africa having an attack of kidney stones--very painful and risking renal failure.
This leading Arizona physician has selflessly established the Children's Cup medical program and clinic--much at his own personal expense. He loves God and travels the world conducting clinics for hurting people who could never repay him.
I love and respect this man and am asking God to restore his full health.
Will you join me?
Sunday, March 11, 2007
AUTHENTICITY AND PURITY
Parents, spouses, pastors, laity, employees, employers, friends--I can't even begin to name all candidates.
There is awesome power in authenticity and purity!
There is awesome power in authenticity and purity!
Friday, March 09, 2007
"THINK ON THESE THINGS"
Thoughts determine attitudes.
Attitudes determine actions.
"Finally, bretheren, whatsoever things are true,
whatsoever things are honest,
whatsoever things are just,
whatsoever things are pure,
whatsoever things are lovely,
whatsoever things are of good report;
if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise
think on these things.
Attitudes determine actions.
"Finally, bretheren, whatsoever things are true,
whatsoever things are honest,
whatsoever things are just,
whatsoever things are pure,
whatsoever things are lovely,
whatsoever things are of good report;
if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise
think on these things.
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
IF YOU REMEMBER THIS YOU ARE AN OLD-TIMER
Around the curve
lickety-split.
Beautiful car
wasn't it?
Burma Shave
lickety-split.
Beautiful car
wasn't it?
Burma Shave
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SUSAN!
Your birth 32 years ago today brought great joy into our home in Manila, Philippines.
What a delight to watch you grow up in Jesus in Asia, Europe, America and now Africa.
Now your giving birth to three of our grandchildren has multiplied these joys for us.
We are so proud of you and your family. We love you so much.
Mom and Dad
What a delight to watch you grow up in Jesus in Asia, Europe, America and now Africa.
Now your giving birth to three of our grandchildren has multiplied these joys for us.
We are so proud of you and your family. We love you so much.
Mom and Dad
“IT’S BETTER TO DIE OF AIDS THAN HUNGER”
A young girl in Zimbabwe trying to survive by prostitution was overheard to say, “It’s better to die of AIDS than of hunger--to die quickly than to starve to death.”
This hell-spawned lie is sweeping through the youth of Zimbabwe and other African countries.
The antidote is hope.
Hope’s name is Jesus.
This hell-spawned lie is sweeping through the youth of Zimbabwe and other African countries.
The antidote is hope.
Hope’s name is Jesus.
Friday, March 02, 2007
THE AFRICAN BUS RANK
Mayhem in the city center.
Noise, racing engines, squealing brakes, bus horns, yelling people.
Jostling, aching bodies laden with burdens of groceries or tools and babies—one on the back and one or two toddlers beside.
Toyota van buses jockeying like ants for position to enter or leave Mbabane’s bus rank. (In America we’d call it a bus station. Maybe “rank” fits it better here because of the smells and flaring tempers, and crime.)
Petrol and diesel fumes belch into the air and choke and cloy the throat.
For thousands of Swazis this is a twice-a-day battle. Buses are their only choice for transportation.
Tens of thousands of lives intersect here.
There’s another bus rank. It’s at the foot of history’s most infamous hill—Golgatha--a site chosen by Rome to display its most dastard deed. Everybody would see the Crucified One here and shudder at Roman power.
Interesting: locals tell us that Jesus was not crucified up on top of the hill but rather at its base in Jerusalem’s garbage dump—right at a major traffic-point for the city.
One thing for sure, everybody saw it. Many shuddered. Those that knew the Nazarene wept. As Jesus hung there you can be sure priests in the temple were smugly rejoicing that the rabble rouser was getting justice.
Imagine their shock and the mayhem when the temple veil suddenly rent open and totally exposed the Holiest of all places—the place where forgiveness could be received. The core structure of their exclusive access to God was destroyed.
Not just tens of thousands but all of humanity’s lives would intersect here. Amid all the jostlings, chokings, achings of life Golgotha’s cross stands accessible to all—not just an intersection but a decision-point—the place where forgiveness can be received.
Noise, racing engines, squealing brakes, bus horns, yelling people.
Jostling, aching bodies laden with burdens of groceries or tools and babies—one on the back and one or two toddlers beside.
Toyota van buses jockeying like ants for position to enter or leave Mbabane’s bus rank. (In America we’d call it a bus station. Maybe “rank” fits it better here because of the smells and flaring tempers, and crime.)
Petrol and diesel fumes belch into the air and choke and cloy the throat.
For thousands of Swazis this is a twice-a-day battle. Buses are their only choice for transportation.
Tens of thousands of lives intersect here.
There’s another bus rank. It’s at the foot of history’s most infamous hill—Golgatha--a site chosen by Rome to display its most dastard deed. Everybody would see the Crucified One here and shudder at Roman power.
Interesting: locals tell us that Jesus was not crucified up on top of the hill but rather at its base in Jerusalem’s garbage dump—right at a major traffic-point for the city.
One thing for sure, everybody saw it. Many shuddered. Those that knew the Nazarene wept. As Jesus hung there you can be sure priests in the temple were smugly rejoicing that the rabble rouser was getting justice.
Imagine their shock and the mayhem when the temple veil suddenly rent open and totally exposed the Holiest of all places—the place where forgiveness could be received. The core structure of their exclusive access to God was destroyed.
Not just tens of thousands but all of humanity’s lives would intersect here. Amid all the jostlings, chokings, achings of life Golgotha’s cross stands accessible to all—not just an intersection but a decision-point—the place where forgiveness can be received.
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