Learn how the author of Character Makeover has found a way to turn Halloween into a spiritually effective event! I've long wished for someway to redeem what continues to become a darker and more disappointing holiday.... and here it is!! See how to have fun, and make a positive impact from your own front door!
http://shelleyleith.com/3.5.html
Sunday, November 3, 2013
Wednesday, July 3, 2013
Who You Know....
Sometimes we hear a person say, most often after a challenging time with even the smallest bureaucracy, "Well, it's who you know that makes all the difference." The conversation will continue similar to: "The new employee didn't know me, and couldn't understand what I was trying to do, which was always simple before." The suggestion is, if you have enough "pull" or "influence", or happen to have a "friend on the inside," things can go much better for you in negotiating anything. There's a country song with lyrics: "I've got friends in low places!" Most of the time, we want friends in HIGH places.
What I discovered in the business world, and even in many settings, it's not so much "who you know," as it is "WHO knows YOU." When you visit a business where the owner knows you personally, or at least a high level manager/supervisor, things are going to go SO much better in your exchange. Just the fact that I'm aware of someone's position earns me little. But when an upper level employee or business owner knows you, often the "protocol" and "best business practices" are completely ignored as that person takes care of your need or request.
Very similar to me is our relationship with the Lord. Many claim to know Him... yet He warned in John that many would claim to know Him, but He would not know or acknowledge them in the final days. It's knowing that HE KNOWS ME that is the great comfort, and "the door opener" for us. Knowing that you are KNOWN to HIM is the greatest comfort in this world, whether we ever see any particular 'benefits' or 'favors" in the lifetime!
Tuesday, July 2, 2013
Doubt and Faith - Cheryl Lauderdale
One of my favorite poems since High School... when I was not even a Christian.... but thankfully one who was being spiritually cared for by others!
Doubt and Faith
Cheryl Lauderdale
Doubt sees the obstacles. Faith sees the way.
Doubt sees the darkest night. Faith sees the day.
Doubt dreads to take a step. Faith soars on high.
Doubt asks, “Who believes?” Faith answers, “I!”
Praying Through
As I was praying for a friend registering for classes at his new University (transfer students get last and latest choice!), I thought of something I read in Mark Batterson's book, The Circle Maker. Joshua 6:1-2 "Now Jericho was TIGHTLY SHUT because of the sons of Israel; no one went out and no one came in. The Lord said to Joshua, “See, I HAVE GIVEN Jericho into your hand, with its king and the valiant warriors.""
Joshua's job was to pray and circle the city. God was in charge of delivery!! Only with eyes of faith could Joshua SEE that Jericho was already defeated. Man's "Tightly Shut” is no match for the Lord's “Have Delivered!” The Circle Maker, (Praying Through)
Joshua's job was to pray and circle the city. God was in charge of delivery!! Only with eyes of faith could Joshua SEE that Jericho was already defeated. Man's "Tightly Shut” is no match for the Lord's “Have Delivered!” The Circle Maker, (Praying Through)
Caring For the Sheep
I grew up on a farm, 320 acres in a beautiful valley with a running creek, a pond, trees and greenest pastures I’ve ever seen. My father, a veteran of WW 2, was trained to do Veteran’s On the Farm training, to help train young (and older) men in new farm techniques developed in the 4 to 5 years that they had been away from their family farms.
Father was thus by nature and by training skilled in many fields…. He could give injections to the sheep (and my allergy shots to me!!), he could take apart a bulldozer and repair its internal problems, and he introduced new crops for hay that others had never used (Johnson grass). I think one of his favorite hay grasses to use was a sudan-sourgum blend, which seemed to make great hay for the winter. Before I was fully conscious, I’m told we had pigs. In the early years, we had goats and sheep. Later the high maintenance sheep were replaced by chickens and dairy cows.
The Atlanta Journal/Constitution, and the University of Georgia came to our farm for interviews, pictures of the pastures and our family, documentation of procedures, and farm life in Georgia. At one time, we had the largest sheep farm in the state. Later, my father’s chicken house was the FIRST fully automated one with temperature controls that triggered the coal-fired furnace to generate its hot water for heating. The watering troughs were automatically refilled when the water level dropped, and the grain feeding hopper and trough system (that was mostly welded together by dad) came on by timer several times a day, and moved the chickens feed through 2 large loops of troughs, at the low level the chickens needed. It was a show-place, and became at state-wide model. But you have to be careful around chickens… loud noises will frighten them, they will run together in piles, and can suffocate themselves by the thousands… that’s a horrible sight to see. Thunderstorms meant chicken house watch detail….
When the dairy barn was constructed, it was from the latest designs, to allow safest entrance and exit for the cows, most comfortable access for the vacuum milking machines, etc. My dad had a radio playing in the milking barn, because he understood that the music soothed the animals. And father could tell each cow apart, by their personality, and by the brass number tag hanging from their neck! Each cow got a different amount of feed, and there was a list in the barn of what that amount was, cow by cow… and my sister as a teenager was called by my dad, “the best helper I’ve ever had with the cows!”
We had 3 John Deere tractors… one was gas-powered, one had a diesel engine that was started by a gasoline engine (the 70A was unique… 2 fuel tanks!) And that powerful 3020, which was the first diesel design that could start its own engine with 2 tandem 12 volt batteries!! Thousands of dollars we had in equipment, Thousands of hours of training for father and from him to us children, Thousands of hours of tending….. for one purpose: to take good care of the animals on our farm.
During lambing time, my parents would get up at midnight in the winter to act as mid-wives for the sheep. Sheep have to be moved every 2 weeks to a new pasture or the parasites they are prone to will take up residence in the group, and continually plague them. Sheep had to have regular oral injections of medication with a large syringe…. 500 sheep is a lot of shots to give!! They regularly can develop foot diseases, so father built a walk-through concrete wading pool, 5” deep, so that he could put the medication in the water, and have the sheep walk through it!
When I was about 6, and my sister 8, we were full-fledged farm helpers. Sheep are interesting… I was always anxious around the large herd of 500, especially when my dad would have us move them to the south pasture. This required moving them out of one pasture, down a road, making a right turn at a Y, then making a left turn off the road into another pasture…the sheep were tracing the outline of a capital M. If cars were coming, they had to wait! What was so amazing, is that terrifying as it was to have the first of 500 sheep come running at you… if you just gently waved your arms, and turned the first 5, the rest would follow!! You could actually left your place in the open road, run ahead of the sheep to the next turn, wave gently there, and turn them again into the next leg of their journey!! Amazing!!
The dairy cows had calves, and they were kept with their moms in a separate pasture for a while. Each night I and the hired man’s son refilled the half of a half 55 gallon drum my dad had cut to make a watering trough. There was a hose run 100 feet for refilling, but it was quicker to also fill 5 gallon buckets and carry them to help fill the tank. Once I came to the trough with full water buckets, and the boy was throwing rocks at the calves, to drive them away!! “What are you doing?” “As soon as we get any water in the trough, they drink it up! We’ll never get it filled!!”
I don’t remember being kind as a 10 year old telling him: “The goal is not to fill the tank… the goal is to water the calves… and whatever time and water it takes to get them to be satisfied, and the trough THEN to be full for later, that is what we must and will do.” I was so upset with him…. I sent him home. Throwing rocks at those precious little calves, hitting them in the head, and sometimes on their tender sides, and they hadn’t done anything wrong, they were just coming for a drink because they were thirsty!! There was no place else for them to get the water they needed to survive in that particular pasture.
The stress and hours of the farm schedule finally became too much for my dad and our family, especially with my mom so sick from depression many months of the year, that he sold the farm when I was about 12. That was very painful for all of our family in many ways…. We gave up our beautiful home site, our natural recreation area of woods, creek, ponds, and rolling pastures…. I simply loved it there, though we later learned that I was allergic to every tree, grass, and animal on the farm!
So, some lessons I learned from animal husbandry…. You don’t yell and make loud threatening noises in the chicken house, NEVER, EVER…. You gently guide the sheep (dim-witted and poor-sighted as they are!)… It can all be done with a calm voice…..and you don’t EVER, EVER throw rocks at ANY of the animals. In fact, a good shepherd of animals provides food, water, medicine, medical care (animals need an onsite doctor like dad when you have hundreds of them), and preventive, protective measures. And, unfortunately, the farm doctor has to be on call 24/7….. But the farm owner, at least from my study of materials and my dad in action on the farm, is the VERY BEST FRIEND, and the VERY BEST THING, for every animal in his care.
© Tom B. Bandy, 6/22/13
Father was thus by nature and by training skilled in many fields…. He could give injections to the sheep (and my allergy shots to me!!), he could take apart a bulldozer and repair its internal problems, and he introduced new crops for hay that others had never used (Johnson grass). I think one of his favorite hay grasses to use was a sudan-sourgum blend, which seemed to make great hay for the winter. Before I was fully conscious, I’m told we had pigs. In the early years, we had goats and sheep. Later the high maintenance sheep were replaced by chickens and dairy cows.
The Atlanta Journal/Constitution, and the University of Georgia came to our farm for interviews, pictures of the pastures and our family, documentation of procedures, and farm life in Georgia. At one time, we had the largest sheep farm in the state. Later, my father’s chicken house was the FIRST fully automated one with temperature controls that triggered the coal-fired furnace to generate its hot water for heating. The watering troughs were automatically refilled when the water level dropped, and the grain feeding hopper and trough system (that was mostly welded together by dad) came on by timer several times a day, and moved the chickens feed through 2 large loops of troughs, at the low level the chickens needed. It was a show-place, and became at state-wide model. But you have to be careful around chickens… loud noises will frighten them, they will run together in piles, and can suffocate themselves by the thousands… that’s a horrible sight to see. Thunderstorms meant chicken house watch detail….
When the dairy barn was constructed, it was from the latest designs, to allow safest entrance and exit for the cows, most comfortable access for the vacuum milking machines, etc. My dad had a radio playing in the milking barn, because he understood that the music soothed the animals. And father could tell each cow apart, by their personality, and by the brass number tag hanging from their neck! Each cow got a different amount of feed, and there was a list in the barn of what that amount was, cow by cow… and my sister as a teenager was called by my dad, “the best helper I’ve ever had with the cows!”
We had 3 John Deere tractors… one was gas-powered, one had a diesel engine that was started by a gasoline engine (the 70A was unique… 2 fuel tanks!) And that powerful 3020, which was the first diesel design that could start its own engine with 2 tandem 12 volt batteries!! Thousands of dollars we had in equipment, Thousands of hours of training for father and from him to us children, Thousands of hours of tending….. for one purpose: to take good care of the animals on our farm.
During lambing time, my parents would get up at midnight in the winter to act as mid-wives for the sheep. Sheep have to be moved every 2 weeks to a new pasture or the parasites they are prone to will take up residence in the group, and continually plague them. Sheep had to have regular oral injections of medication with a large syringe…. 500 sheep is a lot of shots to give!! They regularly can develop foot diseases, so father built a walk-through concrete wading pool, 5” deep, so that he could put the medication in the water, and have the sheep walk through it!
When I was about 6, and my sister 8, we were full-fledged farm helpers. Sheep are interesting… I was always anxious around the large herd of 500, especially when my dad would have us move them to the south pasture. This required moving them out of one pasture, down a road, making a right turn at a Y, then making a left turn off the road into another pasture…the sheep were tracing the outline of a capital M. If cars were coming, they had to wait! What was so amazing, is that terrifying as it was to have the first of 500 sheep come running at you… if you just gently waved your arms, and turned the first 5, the rest would follow!! You could actually left your place in the open road, run ahead of the sheep to the next turn, wave gently there, and turn them again into the next leg of their journey!! Amazing!!
The dairy cows had calves, and they were kept with their moms in a separate pasture for a while. Each night I and the hired man’s son refilled the half of a half 55 gallon drum my dad had cut to make a watering trough. There was a hose run 100 feet for refilling, but it was quicker to also fill 5 gallon buckets and carry them to help fill the tank. Once I came to the trough with full water buckets, and the boy was throwing rocks at the calves, to drive them away!! “What are you doing?” “As soon as we get any water in the trough, they drink it up! We’ll never get it filled!!”
I don’t remember being kind as a 10 year old telling him: “The goal is not to fill the tank… the goal is to water the calves… and whatever time and water it takes to get them to be satisfied, and the trough THEN to be full for later, that is what we must and will do.” I was so upset with him…. I sent him home. Throwing rocks at those precious little calves, hitting them in the head, and sometimes on their tender sides, and they hadn’t done anything wrong, they were just coming for a drink because they were thirsty!! There was no place else for them to get the water they needed to survive in that particular pasture.
The stress and hours of the farm schedule finally became too much for my dad and our family, especially with my mom so sick from depression many months of the year, that he sold the farm when I was about 12. That was very painful for all of our family in many ways…. We gave up our beautiful home site, our natural recreation area of woods, creek, ponds, and rolling pastures…. I simply loved it there, though we later learned that I was allergic to every tree, grass, and animal on the farm!
So, some lessons I learned from animal husbandry…. You don’t yell and make loud threatening noises in the chicken house, NEVER, EVER…. You gently guide the sheep (dim-witted and poor-sighted as they are!)… It can all be done with a calm voice…..and you don’t EVER, EVER throw rocks at ANY of the animals. In fact, a good shepherd of animals provides food, water, medicine, medical care (animals need an onsite doctor like dad when you have hundreds of them), and preventive, protective measures. And, unfortunately, the farm doctor has to be on call 24/7….. But the farm owner, at least from my study of materials and my dad in action on the farm, is the VERY BEST FRIEND, and the VERY BEST THING, for every animal in his care.
© Tom B. Bandy, 6/22/13
8 Ways to Spring Clean Your Marriage - Rebecca Barlow Jordan
Just as a home needs a thorough spring-cleaning, so do our marriages. As we sweep out the cobwebs in the neglected corners of our lives, we’ll discover a new sparkle and shine. Here are eight ways to freshen up your marriage:
Develop a plan for your cleaning ritual. What areas will you attack first? Personal disciplines? Attitudes? Neglected appearances? Habits? Expectations? Communication? List the goals you want to accomplish in your marriage. Be specific. Without a detailed plan, you’ll miss some hidden corners.
Sort through accumulated expectations. Most marriages begin with hidden agendas of his or her expectations. If a wife expects her husband to continue romancing her after the honeymoon and he fails, resentment may follow. A husband who secretly longs for a wife like his mother may set himself up for disappointment when his wife exhibits the opposite behavior. Be realistic with each other about meeting needs. Although God is the only one who can meet your total needs, a mutual exchange of longings and wishes will encourage give and take and help avoid unnecessary hurt.
Discard old habits. Keep a journal of old personal patterns and childish behaviors. Note negative emotions and describe your feelings. Ask yourself, “Could I be taking this situation personally? What does God want to teach me here? Did I in any way cause this?” Even housecleaning experts need extra help to destroy unwanted, moldy habits and to filter out compacted dirt.
Mend the tears of broken relationships and hurt feelings. A stitch in honesty and forgiveness will save years of unraveling. Love is eager to settle differences. Godly love is neither blind nor faultfinding. True love sees weaknesses but rallies to cover them with strength, compassion and encouragement.
Clean out forgotten closets. Family therapist Dixon Murrah says, “Secrets destroy family unity.” Though you may hesitate to reveal hidden skeletons to your mate, remember that marriage intimacy is based on honesty and trust. As you share your family background, open your heart to the negative hurts as well as to the joys of your past. It is always easier to deal with the known than the unknown. And when you understand the “whys” of your mate’s compulsive behaviors or peculiarities, you’ll find a greater capacity for gentleness and love.
Replace worn-out clothes of bitterness with new garments of praise. This will require time for personal discipline with the Lord in prayer and Bible study. Meditate on His Word daily, and you will find your marriage adorned with new beauty.
Vacuum up the spills of harsh words and thoughtless deeds. During emotional or physical stress, even the best of marriages suffer temporary dysfunction. Women can chart monthly cycles if necessary, and plan their activities accordingly. After years of premenstrual suffering (I used to call it pre-monster syndrome), I finally learned to program my schedule around high energy days. And husbands, before you explode your frustrations from work on your wife, think about the aftermath of clean-up.
Polish your marriage often with generous coats of compliments and caring behaviors. Continue this maintenance program daily, not just at once-a-year spring-cleaning time. Catch your mate doing something noteworthy, and give word gifts of praise. Exchange caring behavior lists with each other… the things you’d each like your spouse to do for you.
No matter how great your housekeeping skills, stop and spring-clean your marriage often--together. You’ll improve its value by 100 percent.
“Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. Point out anything in me that offends you, and lead me along the path of everlasting life” (Psalm 139:23-24 NLT).
Develop a plan for your cleaning ritual. What areas will you attack first? Personal disciplines? Attitudes? Neglected appearances? Habits? Expectations? Communication? List the goals you want to accomplish in your marriage. Be specific. Without a detailed plan, you’ll miss some hidden corners.
Sort through accumulated expectations. Most marriages begin with hidden agendas of his or her expectations. If a wife expects her husband to continue romancing her after the honeymoon and he fails, resentment may follow. A husband who secretly longs for a wife like his mother may set himself up for disappointment when his wife exhibits the opposite behavior. Be realistic with each other about meeting needs. Although God is the only one who can meet your total needs, a mutual exchange of longings and wishes will encourage give and take and help avoid unnecessary hurt.
Discard old habits. Keep a journal of old personal patterns and childish behaviors. Note negative emotions and describe your feelings. Ask yourself, “Could I be taking this situation personally? What does God want to teach me here? Did I in any way cause this?” Even housecleaning experts need extra help to destroy unwanted, moldy habits and to filter out compacted dirt.
Mend the tears of broken relationships and hurt feelings. A stitch in honesty and forgiveness will save years of unraveling. Love is eager to settle differences. Godly love is neither blind nor faultfinding. True love sees weaknesses but rallies to cover them with strength, compassion and encouragement.
Clean out forgotten closets. Family therapist Dixon Murrah says, “Secrets destroy family unity.” Though you may hesitate to reveal hidden skeletons to your mate, remember that marriage intimacy is based on honesty and trust. As you share your family background, open your heart to the negative hurts as well as to the joys of your past. It is always easier to deal with the known than the unknown. And when you understand the “whys” of your mate’s compulsive behaviors or peculiarities, you’ll find a greater capacity for gentleness and love.
Replace worn-out clothes of bitterness with new garments of praise. This will require time for personal discipline with the Lord in prayer and Bible study. Meditate on His Word daily, and you will find your marriage adorned with new beauty.
Vacuum up the spills of harsh words and thoughtless deeds. During emotional or physical stress, even the best of marriages suffer temporary dysfunction. Women can chart monthly cycles if necessary, and plan their activities accordingly. After years of premenstrual suffering (I used to call it pre-monster syndrome), I finally learned to program my schedule around high energy days. And husbands, before you explode your frustrations from work on your wife, think about the aftermath of clean-up.
Polish your marriage often with generous coats of compliments and caring behaviors. Continue this maintenance program daily, not just at once-a-year spring-cleaning time. Catch your mate doing something noteworthy, and give word gifts of praise. Exchange caring behavior lists with each other… the things you’d each like your spouse to do for you.
No matter how great your housekeeping skills, stop and spring-clean your marriage often--together. You’ll improve its value by 100 percent.
“Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. Point out anything in me that offends you, and lead me along the path of everlasting life” (Psalm 139:23-24 NLT).
Note to a Friend Who's Parent is in Hospice Care
Was thinking of you and family this morning…. And with the passing of our mutual friend's dad last night, remembered some things we learned with the decline of Lisa’s mom years ago. The closest I think I’ve ever come to experiencing angels is when one’s loved patient is in distress, and the hospice nurses come in, just quietly talking, soothing, taking care of them. Quiet crepe-soled shoes making no sound as they quickly move around, maybe a low song being hummed that fills the whole house with peace. That memory is still so clear, thinking: “this is what they are doing, all the time, ministering to the saints.”
Also learned the pain of somewhat going through what one’s patient is experiencing…. As they have a difficulty, or challenge, or “reduction”, there is a stress for you, with little you can do. It helped me so much when the picture came of an old time skeleton key hole (you wouldn’t know unless you’d seen one in North GA)… but it seems that as that as your patient is reduced in this life, you get crushed, too….. it’s like you’re being pulled through that old-time keyhole… and just when you think the “crushing” must be complete, there’s another event, prediction, prognosis… and there’s the pain of “reduction” again, squeezing you to nothing as you get pulled further through that tiny hole.
The third thing I remember, and saw this being at our friend's home last night as the phone call about her dad came…. There are always “graces” along the way. Some special comfort, word, event, touch, realization…. That just as the Lord told Moses from the burning bush: “I will be with you”, He demonstrates His presence. Nothing too big for His power, Nothing too small for His notice. Our friend had quietly mentioned after the Africa team departed for Zambia, “It’s hard not going with them….knowing the Lord’s going to do some amazing and surprising things, and not be there.” And by text last night, after leaving their home, we realized we’d been reminded at the same time: “This is why he isn’t in Africa tonight.” “Graces” (I call them) all along the way…. Like from Psalm 105:4 “Keep your eyes open for God, watch for His works, be alert for signs of His presence.”
Circle Maker Quotes - Persistence - Mark Batterson
Some Quotes from The Circle Maker by Mark Batterson:
Chapter 8 Persistence Quotient:
Success is a derivation of persistence. The bigger the dream, the harder you will have to pray. We allow our circumstances to get between God and us, instead of putting God between us and our circumstances. It is easy to give up on dreams, miracles, and promises. We lose heart, lose patience, lose faith. The only way you can fail is if you stop praying. Praying is a no-lose proposition. We do know that 100% of the prayers we Don’t pray Won’t get answered. You can give up or hang on. You can let go or pray through. You can get frustrated with God or choose to live un-offended.
Lazarus’ sister to Jesus: “Lord, if You had been here, my brother would not have died. But I know that Now God will give You whatever You ask.” Even though her brother is dead and buried, she is still holding out hope. First degree faith is preventative faith. (Jesus could have prevented the death. ) Second degree faith is resurrection faith. (Jesus can bring him back to life.) EVEN THEN you believe EVEN NOW.
Our most powerful prayers are hyper-linked to the promises of God. It was settled on the Cross when Jesus said, “It is finished.” It wasn’t just the final installment on our sin debt; it was the down payment on all of His promises. “No matter how many promises God has made, they are ‘Yes’ in Christ.” 2 Cor 1:20. By virtue of what Jesus accomplished on the Cross, (regarding the 3,000 promises in the Bible), every one of them belongs to you. Every one of them has your name on it. Reading is the way you get through the Bible; praying His Word is how you get the Bible through you.
Chapter 8 Persistence Quotient:
Success is a derivation of persistence. The bigger the dream, the harder you will have to pray. We allow our circumstances to get between God and us, instead of putting God between us and our circumstances. It is easy to give up on dreams, miracles, and promises. We lose heart, lose patience, lose faith. The only way you can fail is if you stop praying. Praying is a no-lose proposition. We do know that 100% of the prayers we Don’t pray Won’t get answered. You can give up or hang on. You can let go or pray through. You can get frustrated with God or choose to live un-offended.
Lazarus’ sister to Jesus: “Lord, if You had been here, my brother would not have died. But I know that Now God will give You whatever You ask.” Even though her brother is dead and buried, she is still holding out hope. First degree faith is preventative faith. (Jesus could have prevented the death. ) Second degree faith is resurrection faith. (Jesus can bring him back to life.) EVEN THEN you believe EVEN NOW.
Our most powerful prayers are hyper-linked to the promises of God. It was settled on the Cross when Jesus said, “It is finished.” It wasn’t just the final installment on our sin debt; it was the down payment on all of His promises. “No matter how many promises God has made, they are ‘Yes’ in Christ.” 2 Cor 1:20. By virtue of what Jesus accomplished on the Cross, (regarding the 3,000 promises in the Bible), every one of them belongs to you. Every one of them has your name on it. Reading is the way you get through the Bible; praying His Word is how you get the Bible through you.
Gratitude for Military Servicemen
In 2010, our youngest daughter had the opportunity to study and travel in Europe for the winter semester of her Junior year. Lee University has been hosting this trip for 20 years (among other trips) and it seemed like a great opportunity. Most of the time was study based at Cambridge, but much of the British Isles were included in their study.
At the end of the time in England are 2 weeks of "Independent Travel" anywhere in Europe, which the students have to plan, present for approval, and then execute. Her team was the first in 20 years to be able to design a program that led them through many major cities, but most importantly, to her goal of reaching Athens, Greece.
Communication was limited, she didn't take her phone or laptop, but used a shared computer the University provided. The group one day toured the American Cemetery at Cambridge, a 35 acre property donated by the University. It is truly a beautiful setting, of over a dozen American cemeteries in Europe. In one email, there was a statement that caught my attention. One of the tour guides at the Cemetery said that English citizens "adopted" American servicemen's graves, tended them, placed appropriate decorations at every American holiday, and passed this "adoption" down in the family through their wills. Hmmmm... that never comes up with our attorneys or financial planners, and my dad and 3 Bandy aunts were veterans of WW 2 !! She reported that there was actually a WAITING LIST of English citizens who cherished and wanted the high privilege of tending an American grave.
Curious to know more, I emailed the American Cemetery at Cambridge, to verify and understand this concept I'd heard of before: adopting American grave sites. Indeed, within 24 hours I received an kind and informative email response from the Director. He confirmed all our daughter had heard, with some clarification: "We do have a few graves at present available for adoption (of the thousands there...it's worth the time to see the amazing tribute in stone and chapel on the website.)" But just the week before, a couple from Holland had flown over to Cambridge to "adopt a soldier", because all of the grave sites in the Holland American Cemetery were taken.
In case your European geography is shaky, look at a map, and see that Holland is NOT next door to England! Travel is available by water, rail, or plane (their choice) but this is no small undertaking!! In adopting this American Soldier's WW 2 resting place, they are committing to travel several times annually from Holland to England, on US holidays like Memorial Day, the Fourth of July, Victory in Europe Day. They will place something in honor of this man or woman who came over and served 3, 4, or 5 years until death. And because this privilege is so meaningful to them, it is legally possible and very common for this adoption to be passed to the next generation in that family, along with the other prized family "belongings."
The implications of this to me were Stunning. The War in Europe has been over 75 years. These people who are adopting cemeteries probably do not have any family members left alive who served in the European theater of operations. They have no way of knowing who these men and women are who came across the Atlantic 80 years before with a song, "The Yanks Are Coming, The Yanks Are Coming, and We Won't be Back Until it's Over, Over There." (Most of them would have arrived on the majestic Queen Mary, the largest and fastest ship in the world at the time.)
4 of my family members are World War 2 veterans. I seldom visit my own parent's grave sites. (I just know they AREN'T THERE, it's just a memory spot down here of their life.) I live 15 minutes from a National Cemetery... I once decided to detour and visit the cemetery, which is accessed by a 4 lane highway. After what seemed like a mile, with nothing visible but the grass and rolling hills, I turned around and continued my trip.
But this week in Europe (and it won't be on any news media that you can find), thousands of citizens who speak a language I cannot understand, will be streaming to the dozen plus American Cemeteries to pay tribute to "their" American soldier. Why? Gratitude, simple, deep, moving gratitude. Because those peculiar cigarette smoking, chocolate dispensing American servicemen saved their lives, saved their country, from one of the most dangerous enemies the world has known. While In the USA, we'll make sure we have a flag flying, and try to have a BBQ gathering or pool party with friends, across the "Great Pond" will be thousands of people honoring those servicemen in a way that make our celebrations fall far short.
Not everyone is so grateful, it's true. Some years ago our Vice President was in France (bless their hearts) and one of the cabinet ministers was railing about American military still being in Europe, and requested that ALL AMERICAN soldiers be removed from the continent. For whatever you might think of then Vice President Dick Cheney, I loved his quick reply: "Sir, would you have us empty our cemeteries as well?"
Gratitude, simple gratitude.... for some unknown soldier, coming to save an unknown people who could not save themselves. The implications are staggering, just in terms of national appreciation (or lack there of.) But the spiritual application is more gripping. Just having been to a Lord's Supper service: "do this in remembrance of ME," I think my appreciation was pretty skimpy, compared to our European cousins.....many of whom no longer acknowledge any "faith" at all. But they are grateful for servicemen who had an American flag on their shoulder, for they know what freedoms they have were guaranteed by a sacrifice of blood, and giving of life!!
At the end of the time in England are 2 weeks of "Independent Travel" anywhere in Europe, which the students have to plan, present for approval, and then execute. Her team was the first in 20 years to be able to design a program that led them through many major cities, but most importantly, to her goal of reaching Athens, Greece.
Communication was limited, she didn't take her phone or laptop, but used a shared computer the University provided. The group one day toured the American Cemetery at Cambridge, a 35 acre property donated by the University. It is truly a beautiful setting, of over a dozen American cemeteries in Europe. In one email, there was a statement that caught my attention. One of the tour guides at the Cemetery said that English citizens "adopted" American servicemen's graves, tended them, placed appropriate decorations at every American holiday, and passed this "adoption" down in the family through their wills. Hmmmm... that never comes up with our attorneys or financial planners, and my dad and 3 Bandy aunts were veterans of WW 2 !! She reported that there was actually a WAITING LIST of English citizens who cherished and wanted the high privilege of tending an American grave.
Curious to know more, I emailed the American Cemetery at Cambridge, to verify and understand this concept I'd heard of before: adopting American grave sites. Indeed, within 24 hours I received an kind and informative email response from the Director. He confirmed all our daughter had heard, with some clarification: "We do have a few graves at present available for adoption (of the thousands there...it's worth the time to see the amazing tribute in stone and chapel on the website.)" But just the week before, a couple from Holland had flown over to Cambridge to "adopt a soldier", because all of the grave sites in the Holland American Cemetery were taken.
In case your European geography is shaky, look at a map, and see that Holland is NOT next door to England! Travel is available by water, rail, or plane (their choice) but this is no small undertaking!! In adopting this American Soldier's WW 2 resting place, they are committing to travel several times annually from Holland to England, on US holidays like Memorial Day, the Fourth of July, Victory in Europe Day. They will place something in honor of this man or woman who came over and served 3, 4, or 5 years until death. And because this privilege is so meaningful to them, it is legally possible and very common for this adoption to be passed to the next generation in that family, along with the other prized family "belongings."
The implications of this to me were Stunning. The War in Europe has been over 75 years. These people who are adopting cemeteries probably do not have any family members left alive who served in the European theater of operations. They have no way of knowing who these men and women are who came across the Atlantic 80 years before with a song, "The Yanks Are Coming, The Yanks Are Coming, and We Won't be Back Until it's Over, Over There." (Most of them would have arrived on the majestic Queen Mary, the largest and fastest ship in the world at the time.)
4 of my family members are World War 2 veterans. I seldom visit my own parent's grave sites. (I just know they AREN'T THERE, it's just a memory spot down here of their life.) I live 15 minutes from a National Cemetery... I once decided to detour and visit the cemetery, which is accessed by a 4 lane highway. After what seemed like a mile, with nothing visible but the grass and rolling hills, I turned around and continued my trip.
But this week in Europe (and it won't be on any news media that you can find), thousands of citizens who speak a language I cannot understand, will be streaming to the dozen plus American Cemeteries to pay tribute to "their" American soldier. Why? Gratitude, simple, deep, moving gratitude. Because those peculiar cigarette smoking, chocolate dispensing American servicemen saved their lives, saved their country, from one of the most dangerous enemies the world has known. While In the USA, we'll make sure we have a flag flying, and try to have a BBQ gathering or pool party with friends, across the "Great Pond" will be thousands of people honoring those servicemen in a way that make our celebrations fall far short.
Not everyone is so grateful, it's true. Some years ago our Vice President was in France (bless their hearts) and one of the cabinet ministers was railing about American military still being in Europe, and requested that ALL AMERICAN soldiers be removed from the continent. For whatever you might think of then Vice President Dick Cheney, I loved his quick reply: "Sir, would you have us empty our cemeteries as well?"
Gratitude, simple gratitude.... for some unknown soldier, coming to save an unknown people who could not save themselves. The implications are staggering, just in terms of national appreciation (or lack there of.) But the spiritual application is more gripping. Just having been to a Lord's Supper service: "do this in remembrance of ME," I think my appreciation was pretty skimpy, compared to our European cousins.....many of whom no longer acknowledge any "faith" at all. But they are grateful for servicemen who had an American flag on their shoulder, for they know what freedoms they have were guaranteed by a sacrifice of blood, and giving of life!!
My FATHER'S Will
Doing My Father's Will:
30 years ago in October, I received a short phone call after church that my father had died. That event, coming 15 years after my mother's death, opened a rather challenging life story. When my mother died, after years of emotional (mental illness) I said out loud to the ceiling, "the nightmare is over." When my father died, my mental response was: "the nightmare has begun again." He left a business of rental property, and I knew that would be complex to operate from a mile away. Three days after his death, he had an appointment for a physical that would have guaranteed an insurance policy that would cover all the final expenses and inheritance taxes....
So, I became sole executor of my father's estate, upon probation of his will "in solemn form". The new executor immediately engaged a recommended attorney to help navigate the tricky business of "settling the estate." From them I learned the one page will was not what it should have been, and measures were taken to insure that I could properly do my 3 duties as executor: "Marshall the assets, protect and advance the assets, and distribute the assets." Seemed overall simple enough.
At the same time, I also became fiduciary of my father's estate: I was the money man, in change of financial matters. I also became the trustee of the estate, the person/entity who is the legal signer of all documentation, as if my father were still living, doing business himself. Finally, from the will itself, I was already an "heir at will".... designated as one of those people to whom the executor side of me would someday begin distributing the assets of the estate. It's not been all that easy.
Thankful am I to the person who told me: "you will not believe what will happen, what you will face, with people where money is involved." I have been sued by someone whose deed from my father on a piece of property had an error by a careless surveyor... after $6,000 legal fees, the attorneys advised: "there is indeed no merit to their claim, but you might as well quitclaim now, lest this become the most expensive piece of property in the County." (In other words, "you're stupid to keep paying us!"). I have had to collect debts owed to my father from those who "were sure he was going to give them a break, he was a real nice guy." "Yes, I knew the man, too. He never mentioned any adjustment. He's dead, but I am not, and he would have requested payment. "
So for 30 years, longer than I actually had conscious knowledge of the man, I have tried to faithfully execute my father's will. It has not always been easy, and has probably the one thing in my life that has been the biggest test sometimes. When the CPA who was to do the 706 kept procrastinating completing the "Death Tax Return", I had to drive to his office, collect the papers, and do it myself. (Don't EVER try that!) Much to my surprise, the estate was NOT debt-free, and the funds on hand were not sufficient to pay the final taxes. Thanks to a local banker's trust, the executor was given a loan of $25,000 in 19 days on a house in another county they had never (and have never) seen, in order to pay the taxes. (Thankfully, under President Ronald Reagan, the ceiling on inheritance taxes was raised dramatically, and future executors were not placed in the same challenging circumstances.) One heir in particular kept asking about "distributions" and I had to explain there were no funds to distribute, that the bills and taxes were absorbing all the income. I finally had to ask, "you weren't planning on his death, were you?"
Recently, upon preparing the 25th tax return for the KRB estate, the CPA just asked me if we were going to have a "silver celebration" of 25 years of business of the Kenneth R. Bandy Estate. I replied, "No, that would be celebrating the 25th anniversary of my father's death, and I don't believe I'll be doing that." He was horrified when he realized what he'd said, yet I thought it was HILARIOUS, and knew father would have found it quite humorous as well. It may be the highest and lightest point of this adventure, and I have enjoyed re-telling that story! (The CPA is still not yet over his embarrassment!)
SOOO, as best I know, as best I could, even 30 years removed from a conversation with my dad, I have done what I thought was right, and what he would have done if he were in my unique position. Until I file final papers with the Judge, the KRB estate continues to function.
A more important question keeps coming to mind, that I'm not so sure about: Have I been as faithful about my FATHER's WILL, as I have been about my dad's? Everything about my dad's estate will eventually be nothing, with the rest of this world. It's a question that will not go away: Am I fulfulling my obligation and calling, to execute my FATHER'S WILL?
30 years ago in October, I received a short phone call after church that my father had died. That event, coming 15 years after my mother's death, opened a rather challenging life story. When my mother died, after years of emotional (mental illness) I said out loud to the ceiling, "the nightmare is over." When my father died, my mental response was: "the nightmare has begun again." He left a business of rental property, and I knew that would be complex to operate from a mile away. Three days after his death, he had an appointment for a physical that would have guaranteed an insurance policy that would cover all the final expenses and inheritance taxes....
So, I became sole executor of my father's estate, upon probation of his will "in solemn form". The new executor immediately engaged a recommended attorney to help navigate the tricky business of "settling the estate." From them I learned the one page will was not what it should have been, and measures were taken to insure that I could properly do my 3 duties as executor: "Marshall the assets, protect and advance the assets, and distribute the assets." Seemed overall simple enough.
At the same time, I also became fiduciary of my father's estate: I was the money man, in change of financial matters. I also became the trustee of the estate, the person/entity who is the legal signer of all documentation, as if my father were still living, doing business himself. Finally, from the will itself, I was already an "heir at will".... designated as one of those people to whom the executor side of me would someday begin distributing the assets of the estate. It's not been all that easy.
Thankful am I to the person who told me: "you will not believe what will happen, what you will face, with people where money is involved." I have been sued by someone whose deed from my father on a piece of property had an error by a careless surveyor... after $6,000 legal fees, the attorneys advised: "there is indeed no merit to their claim, but you might as well quitclaim now, lest this become the most expensive piece of property in the County." (In other words, "you're stupid to keep paying us!"). I have had to collect debts owed to my father from those who "were sure he was going to give them a break, he was a real nice guy." "Yes, I knew the man, too. He never mentioned any adjustment. He's dead, but I am not, and he would have requested payment. "
So for 30 years, longer than I actually had conscious knowledge of the man, I have tried to faithfully execute my father's will. It has not always been easy, and has probably the one thing in my life that has been the biggest test sometimes. When the CPA who was to do the 706 kept procrastinating completing the "Death Tax Return", I had to drive to his office, collect the papers, and do it myself. (Don't EVER try that!) Much to my surprise, the estate was NOT debt-free, and the funds on hand were not sufficient to pay the final taxes. Thanks to a local banker's trust, the executor was given a loan of $25,000 in 19 days on a house in another county they had never (and have never) seen, in order to pay the taxes. (Thankfully, under President Ronald Reagan, the ceiling on inheritance taxes was raised dramatically, and future executors were not placed in the same challenging circumstances.) One heir in particular kept asking about "distributions" and I had to explain there were no funds to distribute, that the bills and taxes were absorbing all the income. I finally had to ask, "you weren't planning on his death, were you?"
Recently, upon preparing the 25th tax return for the KRB estate, the CPA just asked me if we were going to have a "silver celebration" of 25 years of business of the Kenneth R. Bandy Estate. I replied, "No, that would be celebrating the 25th anniversary of my father's death, and I don't believe I'll be doing that." He was horrified when he realized what he'd said, yet I thought it was HILARIOUS, and knew father would have found it quite humorous as well. It may be the highest and lightest point of this adventure, and I have enjoyed re-telling that story! (The CPA is still not yet over his embarrassment!)
SOOO, as best I know, as best I could, even 30 years removed from a conversation with my dad, I have done what I thought was right, and what he would have done if he were in my unique position. Until I file final papers with the Judge, the KRB estate continues to function.
A more important question keeps coming to mind, that I'm not so sure about: Have I been as faithful about my FATHER's WILL, as I have been about my dad's? Everything about my dad's estate will eventually be nothing, with the rest of this world. It's a question that will not go away: Am I fulfulling my obligation and calling, to execute my FATHER'S WILL?
Big Green Miracle Brother
In 1986 my brother's wife called me, and told me that Roger was in the hospital, he had experienced a fall and injury working his 2nd job on Saturdays. He was primarily a lineman for an independent telephone company in North Georgia, and his Saturday job was also working on poles, but instead servicing or installing cable TV lines. I had something "important" that day, and thought I would go to the hospital the next day. It was over an hour to the John L. Hutcheson Memorial (Tri-County Hospital) in Fort Oglethorpe, and I needed several hours to set aside for the trip.
It was not till a 2nd phone call that I learned the seriousness of his injury... of course, falling off a telephone pole SOUNDED serious, but his wife's voice had seemed so calm, I wasn't really concerned. "You'd better come, he's on a ventilator." To this day I hate those things...
It was not till arriving at the huge, sprawling complex of one of the decades long "finer" trauma hospitals in that area that I learned his "diagnosis and prognosis." The pole he was working on was rotten, and had broken. When it fell, he, being strapped to it, was able to ride it safely to the ground (good).... and then it bounced, and landed on top of him. Not good. He was crushed in the middle part of his body, hips and ribs had become shrapnel that shredded tissue and organs in his abdomen.
I've never seen, in decades of hospital visits, anything like his situation. There were 5 tubes and portals (a clavicle) pumping or dripping fluids into his body, and 4 draining things out. The ventilator was making it's continuous sounds, but he was completely oblivious in his medical unconsciousness. I did not know that his team of three doctors had already determined that he would die. Slowing the 4 realizations: he would die of lung failure, since they were so damaged. Or he would die of kidney failure, due to the injuries received. Heart failure was imminent, due to the damage to so many blood vessels, and the stress. Or the infection from all the ruptures in his digestive system, similar to anunchecked appendix rupture, would take his life. The doctor team had decided NOT to do any surgeries, it was simply be useless, and torture his body more. He would die, slowly slip away. Hour by hour we watched, and waited. A nurse sat on a stool beside him 24/7, monitoring every device in the room. I remember crying on my bed, a praying a simple prayer: "Lord, I have buried 2 (mom and dad) I cannot bury another one right now."
There was also a curious complication... since he was working on a second job, his health insurance was balking at paying for his hospital care!! Finally they were persuaded that "insurance is insurance" and they had to step up. And then, a more 'curious' complication. He kept on "NOT DYING!!" Every day was not his last, it was his next!! The team of doctors decided they had to start some repairs in different areas. Can't let him mend like he was! Each surgery helped. But the crushed pelvis was very challenging, bones splintered and... no reasonable way to repair. BUT, there was a young doctor on his first assignment there, freshly returned from Switzerland, having learned a new technique of setting bones from the outside in. This procedure had never been tried in the USA, but it was the only option.
So, if you've ever seen Tinker Toys assembled in wild fashion, this became their plan, and it's gruesome. Drill through the flesh into the bone fragment. Screw a stainless steel rod into each fragment. With slow, time-taking brute force, shift the fragments together like puzzle pieces, so they can mend together. Then all the rods on the outside are bolted together like a child's wacky science project. And it worked! He was written up in the New England Journal of Medicine. Thankfully the stuff was covered most times by a sheet, and he looked like he hugely pregnant. He was slowing brought back to consciousness, and could move enough to communicate by touching letters of the alphabet.
Weeks passed. One Sunday afternoon some men from his work came to visit his wife in the waiting room, and I thought that was very nice of them. His wife was sobbing, I thought touched by their kindness. Then she shared the conversation: Because my brother had NOT CALLED IN to the office for his 30 day absence, he was going to be terminated the next day, including all benefits!! WHAT?? I'm sitting 20 feet away, smiling inside at how nice to take Sunday afternoon to visit the hospital, and these guys are terminating a 20 year employee in the CCU, projected still to die, because he hasn't made a phone call?
Thankfully, the union he was a member of stepped in, and explained the possible scenario for the company should they proceed with termination. They backed down from their "proposal." Meanwhile, my brother, greener by the day, still continued to "not die" (had 2 young sons at home) which created continuous medical challenges to repair organ by organ, muscle by muscle, bone by bone. Months are now ticking in ICU. And he keeps improving! Still, ever other time I visit him, I have to step out and drop my head to my knees, to not faint from the horror of what my eyes are seeing.
He was eventually moved to the Rehabilitation Unit!! Sitting up in bed, Lisa and I visited one evening, and he was talking, smiling (still bolted together!) and eating some soup. Then, frightening to me, all the lights went out, and every hum in that hospital went quiet. I prayed "Lord, after all he's been through... don't let him die for a power outage!!" I looked up, and realized that all that equipment was really gone from his body... then I thought of the 30 bed CCU where he had lived, and thought how all of those critical patients would quietly slip away. Yet not a life pump beeped in alarm, no crepe soled nurses ran down the corridors, just all quiet.
Then through the open window, I could hear a sound that reminded me of bulldozers coming up to full throttle under a heavy load... The UPS system was coming online, and full power was immediately restored in that massive complex. Even the fluorescents came on. When disconnected from the TVA power grid, the diesel generators automatically responded, and took over the entire complex... I tried to climb through the window, I wanted to see this "one more miracle!!" I looked up to my brother again, and he was picking out carrots from his soup: "Who would ever put sliced carrots in tomato soup?"
What the Lord spoke to me, and the lesson I learned through all this, was like an audible human voice from the Lord: "Tom, when you get to the point of disconnect from THIS world, and all that you see and depend on, and worry about, you'll be able to see that MY POWER is already there, fully available, more than fully capable. You choose."
If you see my big brother today, and walk behind him, you will see a little "shimmy" in his walk, but walk he does!!! Much older than me, he approaches 70, and IS STILL WORKING for that same phone company!!
No matter how bad things get, there is always HOPE. "Never Before," is God's invitation to: "Watch Me Work." What are the chances of a doctor just returned from Switzerland with knowledge of a new technique ending up via New York City in Northwest GA? How many people survive 4 medical death sentences at the same time? How many people keep their job, when the bosses and board have decided to fire them? How many people get their story written up as a "first" in the New England Journal of Medicine? And how do you replace an audio/visual lesson from the Lord: "When you're ready to make the change from this world's power to MINE.... it's here, and I'm ready and ABLE. The GRID is not the power source, I AM!!"
It was not till a 2nd phone call that I learned the seriousness of his injury... of course, falling off a telephone pole SOUNDED serious, but his wife's voice had seemed so calm, I wasn't really concerned. "You'd better come, he's on a ventilator." To this day I hate those things...
It was not till arriving at the huge, sprawling complex of one of the decades long "finer" trauma hospitals in that area that I learned his "diagnosis and prognosis." The pole he was working on was rotten, and had broken. When it fell, he, being strapped to it, was able to ride it safely to the ground (good).... and then it bounced, and landed on top of him. Not good. He was crushed in the middle part of his body, hips and ribs had become shrapnel that shredded tissue and organs in his abdomen.
I've never seen, in decades of hospital visits, anything like his situation. There were 5 tubes and portals (a clavicle) pumping or dripping fluids into his body, and 4 draining things out. The ventilator was making it's continuous sounds, but he was completely oblivious in his medical unconsciousness. I did not know that his team of three doctors had already determined that he would die. Slowing the 4 realizations: he would die of lung failure, since they were so damaged. Or he would die of kidney failure, due to the injuries received. Heart failure was imminent, due to the damage to so many blood vessels, and the stress. Or the infection from all the ruptures in his digestive system, similar to anunchecked appendix rupture, would take his life. The doctor team had decided NOT to do any surgeries, it was simply be useless, and torture his body more. He would die, slowly slip away. Hour by hour we watched, and waited. A nurse sat on a stool beside him 24/7, monitoring every device in the room. I remember crying on my bed, a praying a simple prayer: "Lord, I have buried 2 (mom and dad) I cannot bury another one right now."
There was also a curious complication... since he was working on a second job, his health insurance was balking at paying for his hospital care!! Finally they were persuaded that "insurance is insurance" and they had to step up. And then, a more 'curious' complication. He kept on "NOT DYING!!" Every day was not his last, it was his next!! The team of doctors decided they had to start some repairs in different areas. Can't let him mend like he was! Each surgery helped. But the crushed pelvis was very challenging, bones splintered and... no reasonable way to repair. BUT, there was a young doctor on his first assignment there, freshly returned from Switzerland, having learned a new technique of setting bones from the outside in. This procedure had never been tried in the USA, but it was the only option.
So, if you've ever seen Tinker Toys assembled in wild fashion, this became their plan, and it's gruesome. Drill through the flesh into the bone fragment. Screw a stainless steel rod into each fragment. With slow, time-taking brute force, shift the fragments together like puzzle pieces, so they can mend together. Then all the rods on the outside are bolted together like a child's wacky science project. And it worked! He was written up in the New England Journal of Medicine. Thankfully the stuff was covered most times by a sheet, and he looked like he hugely pregnant. He was slowing brought back to consciousness, and could move enough to communicate by touching letters of the alphabet.
Weeks passed. One Sunday afternoon some men from his work came to visit his wife in the waiting room, and I thought that was very nice of them. His wife was sobbing, I thought touched by their kindness. Then she shared the conversation: Because my brother had NOT CALLED IN to the office for his 30 day absence, he was going to be terminated the next day, including all benefits!! WHAT?? I'm sitting 20 feet away, smiling inside at how nice to take Sunday afternoon to visit the hospital, and these guys are terminating a 20 year employee in the CCU, projected still to die, because he hasn't made a phone call?
Thankfully, the union he was a member of stepped in, and explained the possible scenario for the company should they proceed with termination. They backed down from their "proposal." Meanwhile, my brother, greener by the day, still continued to "not die" (had 2 young sons at home) which created continuous medical challenges to repair organ by organ, muscle by muscle, bone by bone. Months are now ticking in ICU. And he keeps improving! Still, ever other time I visit him, I have to step out and drop my head to my knees, to not faint from the horror of what my eyes are seeing.
He was eventually moved to the Rehabilitation Unit!! Sitting up in bed, Lisa and I visited one evening, and he was talking, smiling (still bolted together!) and eating some soup. Then, frightening to me, all the lights went out, and every hum in that hospital went quiet. I prayed "Lord, after all he's been through... don't let him die for a power outage!!" I looked up, and realized that all that equipment was really gone from his body... then I thought of the 30 bed CCU where he had lived, and thought how all of those critical patients would quietly slip away. Yet not a life pump beeped in alarm, no crepe soled nurses ran down the corridors, just all quiet.
Then through the open window, I could hear a sound that reminded me of bulldozers coming up to full throttle under a heavy load... The UPS system was coming online, and full power was immediately restored in that massive complex. Even the fluorescents came on. When disconnected from the TVA power grid, the diesel generators automatically responded, and took over the entire complex... I tried to climb through the window, I wanted to see this "one more miracle!!" I looked up to my brother again, and he was picking out carrots from his soup: "Who would ever put sliced carrots in tomato soup?"
What the Lord spoke to me, and the lesson I learned through all this, was like an audible human voice from the Lord: "Tom, when you get to the point of disconnect from THIS world, and all that you see and depend on, and worry about, you'll be able to see that MY POWER is already there, fully available, more than fully capable. You choose."
If you see my big brother today, and walk behind him, you will see a little "shimmy" in his walk, but walk he does!!! Much older than me, he approaches 70, and IS STILL WORKING for that same phone company!!
No matter how bad things get, there is always HOPE. "Never Before," is God's invitation to: "Watch Me Work." What are the chances of a doctor just returned from Switzerland with knowledge of a new technique ending up via New York City in Northwest GA? How many people survive 4 medical death sentences at the same time? How many people keep their job, when the bosses and board have decided to fire them? How many people get their story written up as a "first" in the New England Journal of Medicine? And how do you replace an audio/visual lesson from the Lord: "When you're ready to make the change from this world's power to MINE.... it's here, and I'm ready and ABLE. The GRID is not the power source, I AM!!"
Marine Tribute: Semper Fi!
Marine Tribute:
Grateful for The Faithful!
You have seen them on the beaches
Where they’ve landed on the shore,
Almost always on the Forefront,
When the Country goes to war.
Parris Island serves as midwife
For these sons who stand so tall.
Ever ready, always training,
For whatever task may call,
Homeland, grateful, awes them proudly
As they serve across the seas
Under Foreign suns or friendly,
Facing foe, harsh clime, disease.
Battles deadly, sore, with evil
They have fought without defeat
Never leaving comrades wounded,
Never calling for retreat.
From the books of history’s pages,
They stand out, so Few, so Proud
From the tongues of warrior sages,
Hear their exploits told aloud.
“Did you know one?? Have you met one??”
“Oh, Yes!” proudly answer I,
And I know he lived the motto:
“Always Faithful” – Semper Fi !
In honor of all our faithful Marines
© Tom B. Bandy tbandy523@comcast.net
3/5/03 770-548-3020
Grateful for The Faithful!
You have seen them on the beaches
Where they’ve landed on the shore,
Almost always on the Forefront,
When the Country goes to war.
Parris Island serves as midwife
For these sons who stand so tall.
Ever ready, always training,
For whatever task may call,
Homeland, grateful, awes them proudly
As they serve across the seas
Under Foreign suns or friendly,
Facing foe, harsh clime, disease.
Battles deadly, sore, with evil
They have fought without defeat
Never leaving comrades wounded,
Never calling for retreat.
From the books of history’s pages,
They stand out, so Few, so Proud
From the tongues of warrior sages,
Hear their exploits told aloud.
“Did you know one?? Have you met one??”
“Oh, Yes!” proudly answer I,
And I know he lived the motto:
“Always Faithful” – Semper Fi !
In honor of all our faithful Marines
© Tom B. Bandy tbandy523@comcast.net
3/5/03 770-548-3020
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