Traveling the Rock Road

Occasionally I look back to the early years of Cathy and I starting our lives together as one and momentarily relive those days once more. One side of me will shout out, “Boys, I’m glad that’s over; I wouldn’t want to relive a minute of that ever again!” But then there’s a quieter side that gently says, “But weren’t those some of the best years you ever experienced relying fully on God to help you take the next step?” And I always have to say to the second voice, “You’re right, no argument.”

The year was 1975, we had moved to Indiana the year prior for me to attend college. I was working a minimum wage ($2.10 per hour) part-time job and Cathy worked full time at a bank making around $2.50. We lived in a sunroom/garage that had been remodeled and converted into a one bedroom apartment. These days we have what we call “Date Nite” every Friday and go out to eat somewhere; back then that occasion would have been celebrated with a couple of cans of soda and a bag of potato chips to split as we drove around. It was rough but it wasn’t terrible, we met our bills and made the best of this life we chose. One of the highlights came when we would get a call from back home from a loved one who was checking up on us. One day I got call from my beloved Great-Aunt Peal down in Southern West Virginia. “Johnny, would you and Cathy come down here for Thanksgiving this year, it’s been too long since I’ve see you two.” “We’d love to Pearl, but we just don’t have the extra to make a long trip like that.” There was a pause and then she said, “Now you know if you can get here, I’ll take care of getting you back, and maybe a little extra!” Say no more and take me home Country Roads! The day we left out, we filled up our little VW (at .57 cents a gallon it wasn’t the strain it would be today) and had just under 50 bucks to make the journey. This was going to be great, a small vacation and it would hardly cost us a thing, what could possible go wrong? How bout a broken down car in the middle of nowhere!

The hour was a little past midnight into early Thanksgiving morn when while driving along Route 52 near the Ohio River the car made a funny sound and then went dead. There we were on a deserted road 200 hundred miles from home and over that distance left to reach Pearl’s house, we were stuck and no one in sight. I got of the car, cold wind whistling around me and simply said, “God, if ever there was a time we needed you, it’s right now.” Down the road I could see headlights approaching and as he drew near he slowed, and turned on his flashers, it was the Ohio State Patrol. I told the officer what happened and he immediately went to my engine compartment and began working. He tried for over 30 minutes, but finally gave up and took us to the nearest town, Southpoint, Ohio and let us out at a hotel. “The service station on the corner will be open at 7,” he told us. “I’ll get word to them and they’ll get your car running.” Well, I hope he was right. Entering the hotel we found out the price of a room was almost the same as we had in our pockets so that was out. The girl behind the desk looked us and then said, “It doesn’t cost anything to stay in the lobby, if you want to stretch out on the couch you’re more than welcome to.” So we did until morning and then went into the restaurant, but looking at the prices on the menu we decided we better leave and hang on to what money we had to fix the car. Before we could get up to leave, the waitress brought us coffee and toast, “Here, you two look like you could use this and it’s not going to cost this place that much to help.” “Thank you Lord for the kindness of strangers you have set in our path, but now, what about the car?!!”

Going over to the service station, the manager told us he had talked to the patrolman and they were just on their way to tow our car in. So the work began trying to restore out little green Bug to running condition. One hour, two hours, then three and still nothing, we sat in the waiting area watching them toil over our car, but try as they did it just wouldn’t start. “We need parts that we don’t have here,” the manager informed us. Great, now what I thought! Seeing the look of dismay on our faces he went on. “Now let’s not give up yet, let me call a friend of mine across the river in Kentucky and see if I can get him to open his parts store for us.” That would have to be one heck of a friend to leave his home on Thanksgiving to do such a thing. When the manager got off the phone he went out, jumped in his truck and was gone for almost an hour, but returned with the needed parts. Two more hours and we finally heard that beautiful sound we had been waiting to here, our little green machine was running once again, WooHoo!! But now there was a new dilemma, six hours of work to get it running plus a towing bill and then running out of state to get parts, I figured the bill was going to be more than we paid for the car! We could write them a check, if they would even take it, but there wasn’t much more in our account than what we had in our pockets. “Uh, God, John here again, thanks for all you’ve supplied so far but now we have a bigger problem, and if you don’t somehow materialize a few hundred dollars right now Cathy and I may become residents of Southpoint, Ohio, living in the back of a garage, working odd jobs to pay off our bill, HELP!!!”

“So you two are headed to West Virginia for Thanksgiving huh? Well you’re gonna make it, but I don’t think dinner will still be on the table, maybe they’ll save you a turkey leg and some pumpkin pie.” Then with a smile the manager handed me the bill. I was scared to look down at the number, but when I did my head immediately shot back up to look this man in the face mostly to see if he was still smiling; he was. Very little was written on the paper, but what was there nearly brought tears to my eyes–Total Bill: $28.

I’m sure some would say, “Well John, sure all those people helped you; a young couple is dire straights on Thanksgiving Day is just good old human kindness.” No argument really, but my question back would be how did they “all” come together like that to bring about that kindness? That’s not easy odds anytime or anyplace. Charles Swindoll said this, “We must cease striving and trust God to provide what He thinks is best and in whatever time He chooses to make it available. But this kind of trusting doesn’t come naturally. It’s a spiritual crisis of the will in which we must choose to exercise faith.”

Over the course of my life, and especially in those early years, I cannot begin to count the many times God’s hand was on my life providing, maybe not what I wanted, but what I needed just at the right time and moment. Folks, I’m not here just to relate a story, I’m here to attest that during the times of life when I have put my faith and hope in God the most, He has always been there for me in evident ways too numerous to expound on here today. My advice, join me as a “Traveler of the Rock Road,” put your “total” trust in Him; that’s what He’s there for, that’s what He wants, that’s how He loves you.

It was late into the night when we reached the road Pearl’s house sat on. Cathy was asleep and I opened the moon roof to gaze up at the brilliance of the stars for a brief moment, and there was the voice. “See those stars Johnny, I made them just for you so that you would know I’m here and I’m big enough to handle anything that you’re willing to turn over to Me, I love you!”

Proverbs 3:5-6 “Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.”  I got no argument!  See ya next week!!!

We all knew at least one when we were growing up, you could yell at them, insult them, threaten them, push them, and even hit them, and still they would not defend themselves.  They were called cowards, sissies, and chicken because they would not do anything to fight back. Truthfully speaking, I was one of them when just a boy.  I figured if I didn’t do anything offensive in return they would give up and leave me alone.  Unfortunately there are a couple of categories of individuals who viewed this like gas to a fire, if they won’t fight back that energizes them all the more to attack.  We know this type all too well; they’re better referred to as punks or bullies, people I consider more of a coward because they pick “victims” to terrorize who they can feel safe from retaliation.  Like I said, I was pushover at a young age that is until I learned that if I fight back I had a better chance of being left alone.  (Okay it felt good to get a few swats in of my own, there I said it!) There was one such person that could be pushed around pretty easily without sticking up for himself that I know fairly well, matter of fact he’s one of my dearest and closest friends. Because of one act in his life, I learned that a valuable lesson; sometimes it’s not a matter of being too “chicken” to fight; sometimes it’s a matter of waiting for the right reason to “BRING IT!”

Don was a tall lanky boy back in school, raised on a farm in rural Ohio and never took much to many of the things that most teens would do like going out for sports or attending school dances and the like.  But Don was quite gifted in several areas intellectually as well as the arts and theater.  His easy going ways and ready smile were contagious and most folks liked him from moment he came into their lives. Don was one of those people that others would target to pick on because of the reason we’ve already discussed, he just wouldn’t fight back.  One popular boy in school tried on several occasions to push him into a fight and no matter what he did Don would just stand quietly.  “What’s wrong with you, you chicken or something?” the aggressor would taunt.  Still my friend would not raise nary a finger or his voice.  Because I knew this young man better than many, there was an understanding on my part that told me Don had convictions to why he wouldn’t fight, part was because he was a true pacifist and didn’t believe in fighting, and part was because of his Christian convictions that he would not compromise over some jerk’s over inflated ego.  Still I always had a feeling if given the right reason this mild mannered peacenik could come out swinging!  That reason materialized one afternoon in a city park in Michigan.

When Don finished high school he left the farm and Ohio and headed to higher education in Grand Rapids Michigan.  While there he learned a trade and became very skilled as a carpenter, this became his way of life for several years.  While driving to a worksite one afternoon he passed a group of young people congregated in a park in one of the roughest sections of the city.  Giving attention to what was going on as he drove, Don realized that a group of young men had one person down on the ground beating and kicking him.  This certainly put a cold chill down my friend’s back, but he drove on for a short distance and then stopped.  His explanation to me was, “It would have been easy to keep going; after all, what could I do, one person against a mob.  But then there was a voice that asked how are you going to feel if you read about a young man beaten to death in tomorrow’s paper?”  That’s all it took, a squealing tire U-turn and motor revved up in his utility van and it was back to the park, up over the curb; JIM DANDY TO THE RESCUE, JACK!! The crowd scattered for an instant and charged back when Don brought the van to a halt.  Grabbing his claw hammer he waded right into the midst of them swinging for all he was worth and giving the boy on the ground a chance to get up and flee.  The rest of what happened is kind of fuzzy to my man Don.  He knows he got away, he knows he inflicted some pain, and he knows he was on the receiving end of some also, that’s quite evident by a scar on his face he still has today.  If you were to ask him what upset him the most from that fracas, he’d tell you, “I lost my best darn hammer that day!” Chicken huh?  Yeah, right!

Perhaps some would say, “Okay, your friend proved he’s no chicken, but didn’t he compromise his position as a pacifist and a Christian choosing to get into a fight?”  To the contrary, he enhanced it!  Those convictions do mean to live at peace when possible, but they sure don’t mean to stand back and watch a wrong without lifting a finger.  Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. once said, “The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy.”  My man Don’s stands just as firm today as he ever has in his passion for peace, but on that one afternoon he heard the voice of his Lord saying “I need a warrior!” My friend, my hero’s response, “Lets do this!”  “Courage is not simply one of the virtues, but the form of every virtue at the testing point.” C.S. Lewis

My friend has never been in a situation like again and my hope and prayer is he never will, at least not without me being there!  (I hold to the same convictions as Don, but there’s a little redneck that still lives inside this old man!)  He’s still the same person willing to walk away instead of fighting for what some would call “his honor.”  But that’s not where his honor lies, protecting himself from senseless insult.  This Fellow Traveler of the Rock Road draws his honor from seeing a wrong to someone and being willing to fight to correct it. His honor is not for himself, but for the One he is in service to and from whom he also draws his strength, “The Lord is my light and my salvation–whom shall I fear?  The Lord is the stronghold of my life–of whom shall I be afraid?” Psalm 27:1

The next time one of you other types decide to hurt someone weaker, I’d take a minute if I were you to consider who might be watching, and ready for the call to open a can of whoop-a—(well you know the rest that term), for that “Chicken” just might have standing nearby a Warrior disguised as a lanky mild-mannered individual with an easy smile, and even more, a King, there to defend him. Awesome!

See ya next Monday!!

With Mother’s Day being yesterday I spent a lot of time thinking about my own mom and the type of person was, different. I think every individual looks at their mother as unique or special and mine was no exception to the rule. As I sit here preparing to write on this wonderful lady and her ways, I realize my memories could easily fill a book, maybe two. So I’ll just take a portion to tell you about, and while I do, my eyes will be seeing a lady who taught me more than I ever realized and sometimes gave her credit for. Still loving you Ma!!

My mother was hampered all her life with a severe hearing loss and because of that I think she found the world around her a strange and hard place to live as a young person. Money wasn’t always plentiful to her family there in the back hills of West Virginia, so she had to go without hearing aids until she was about 7 years old. By then she had fallen behind what many her age were learning or already knew. With her own mother stricken with a cancer that took her life at a young age and a father who was never around, mom didn’t get the help she needed to keep up in school and finally dropped out when she was 15. When her mother passed away, she went to live with other family which was a bittersweet situation in itself. I’m sure my aunt who took her in loved mom, but it was tough going never having any children and suddenly being saddled down with a teenage girl with issues. After a few years mom found herself looking for a work and trying to make it in the world all alone. Frightened but undaunted she struck out to see what there was for a hard hearing girl to do out there. As a boy, she used to tell me, “Never let anyone tell you, you can’t do something. They used to tell me I wasn’t smart enough for anyone to hire. I’d get mad and say, ‘How do you know that when I haven’t done anything yet?’ As far as I’m concerned, I can do anything!” And that’s how she went at finding a job, head up and full steam ahead. When she would be interviewed for a position, the question would always come up, “Have you ever done this type of work before?” Her answer, “No, but if you give me a chance I’ll show you I can do it!” That line in itself got her a job more often than not. On occasion she would find herself in over her head, but most of the time she showed them and the doubters that she could do the work. A time came while living in Kentucky that mom saw a sign advertising jobs in a town in Ohio and that a bus would be leaving that day taking anyone interested there. She contacted family and they told her, “You’ve never been that far away from home; you won’t be able to do it.” Her answer again, “How do you know I won’t be able unless I try?!!”

Then she threw a few clothes in a bag, filled out some paperwork and took a bus ride to a new Promise Land in Fremont, Ohio; three days later she began working at the H.J. Heinz ketchup company there. This move proved to a great one for my mother because she was now making more money than she had ever seen in her life, $.90 per hour! She called her aunt and this time she was the one following along. She quickly came north and she and her husband plus mom got a place together once again. This could be a good stopping place; after all I showed the hard working and determined side of my mom and how she proved the doubters wrong. Yep that would be a happy ending, except for one little thing that was looming on the horizon that no one planned for or expected; and that one little thing, was me.

As many young ladies have happen, a “Prince Charming” came into my mother’s life that made her happy and promised the world. But then that offer of the world was quickly rescinded the moment he found out she was pregnant; then it was slap it in “B for Boogie” and he was down the road never to be a part of her life again. Mom returned home to West Virginia to live with other relatives until my birth, and once again the “Boo Birds” of unbelievers in my mom raised their voice. “You’re just not going to be able to take care of a baby on your own; you need to give him up for adoption. The doctor who did the delivery said he would adopt him if you would let him.” Up to that point in mama’s life she had gone through several phases, first was quiet and submissive. Then came the time for arguing followed by mild rebellion, but nobody had ever experienced the eruption that came for “Mount Myrtle!” (Myrtle was her given name, but she hated it and preferred going by Kate or Catherine, I don’t blame her!) “How do you know I can’t raise a baby?!! This is the one thing in my life I can call mine and I’m keeping my baby!” So the journey began for a young woman with a severe hearing deficit and a child named Johnny, town to town, state to state, living in small apartments with Ma anything she could do support us until the day we finally returned to Ohio and made it home. 

There’s lot more to the story, some I’ve already told in the past, the rest for another time, but here are the main points I want to bring out by telling you this account today.  First, I wanted you to meet one of the toughest and smartest people I’ve ever known who ventured out and conquered as a Traveler of the Rock Road. She could have listened to others when told she couldn’t do something, but there was a fire in her that said different. She knew what she wanted to do and did it no matter how hard, no matter how much she was told she couldn’t, and she was victorious! The proof is in the man who sits here today writing her praises. My mom was just as she said, she could do anything.

My second point is all you ladies who hold the title “Mother,” you are my heroes! You are the ones who give so much of yourselves for the well being of the ones you love. For you ones like my mother who tackled a good portion of life alone, especially childrearing, there isn’t a medal big enough to give merit to what you have achieved. I read this once and feel it is spot on, “Allow her to sleep, for when she wakes, she will move mountains.”  No argument!

One final note, my mom always told me about my Father, not the earthy one, but the one she trusted and counted on the most, the Father who strengthened her all her life and the one with whom s he resides today. Wouldn’t be surprised in the least if He told her, “Well done! I told you, you could do anything!”

“Even youths will grow weak and tired, and young men will fall in exhaustion. But those who trust in the Lord will find new strength. They will soar high on wings like eagles. They will run and not grow weary. They will walk and not faint.”   Isaiah 40:30-31

I love you mama!
See ya next Monday.

One of my favorite joys as a youngster was sitting at the dinning room table while my Great Aunt Pearl told me stories of the olden days growing up in West Virginia.  She could keep me captivated for hours, which she liked also since that way she could put me to work breaking peas out of their pods, pulling grapes from the vines brought in the house or some other produce from the garden. On this occasion she had begun telling about her brother Roscoe.  “Who’s Roscoe?” I asked.  I only knew of one brother to Pearl and his name was Sam.  “Sam was my younger brother, but John Roscoe (his full name) was my older brother, but he died when he was just 21 from pneumonia back in 1923.” “Wow, that was a long time ago,” I said seeing that it was now in the mid 60s.  “Do you really remember him that well?”  And then, Pearl stopped for a moment and just stared toward the wall.  Somehow I knew she wasn’t looking at anything on the wall, she was seeing her big brother Roscoe.  With softness in her eyes and a smile on her lips she began, “Tall, slender, rugged but good looking, that was Roscoe.  All the girls in the region were crazy about him.”  “Popular with the girls, that’s cool!” I said.  Now Pearl was looking straight at me, “Let me tell you a story about what he thought of being popular with the girls, Little Boy Blue.”  (Had to throw that Blue Boy in there because that’s what she always called me and it still brings a smile, yes and even a couple of tears when I remember.)   She started once more, “Back when I was a little girl all the kids in the region went to the same school and were taught in the same room.  The youngest would sit closest to the front and the rest would be in the next rows back according to age.  There was a road that led to school, but the quickest way there was a foot path that all the kids would take.  It led to a stream where rocks had been placed in the water for crossing without getting wet.  I must have been seven or so and walking by myself to school.  (A wooded path and a little girl walking by herself? Let’s see that kind of security of mind in this day and age!)  It had rained hard the night before and the path was slick, I ended up falling getting mud on my face, hands, dress and books.  Three older girls came upon me all dirty and laughed at the sight I was.  It made me feel bad, but there wasn’t enough time to go back home and change, had to get to school so I kept on walking.  The older girls and I arrived at the stream, but didn’t cross.  The rain had made the water rise and all the stepping stones were submerged several inches, so we just stood there trying to figure the best way to cross.  One of the girls looked back up the path and said, ‘Oh, here comes Roscoe, he’ll get us across!’  When Roscoe reached where we standing the three surrounded him, batting their eyes and using their softest voices pleaded with him to help them across the stream.”

Pearl stopped here for a moment, for now something was happening I had seen rarely from my beloved Great Aunt Pearly Mae, tears were flowing freely down both cheeks. After a moment of composure she continued with her story.  “I saw Roscoe look over my way and just stare as I stood at a distance quietly.  I thought he must be thinking he’d never seen such a dirty, snot faced, rag doll of a person as what I must have looked like.” Now her voice broke with the emotion of love combined with laughter, “Leaving those other girls standing there staring, he walked right over to me, scooped me up, put me on his shoulders and said, “Hang on Sis, I’ll get you over.  He waded across the stream with me perched up high and ready to burst from joy for what he did showing how much he loved me.”

It was years later that Pearl’s words came home to roost on her thick headed great-nephew, “He showed how much he loved her, not with words, but with his actions, awesome!!”

This story made me think about two areas of my life–the first is my family, wife, children and that includes in-law children, and grandchildren.  I never, never, tire of telling them how much I love them and never will.  But the question comes, do I do enough to show them how much I love them?  Personally I’d like to think so.  The second thought and really the most important is do I really love the one I call Lord–not only with my words, but with my actions and deeds?  I consider this a very important question that each one of us who call ourselves “Believers” should ask on occasion.

1 John 3:18-19 tells us, “Little children, let us stop just saying we love people; let us really love them, and show it by our actions. Then we will know for sure, by our actions, that we are on God’s side, and our consciences will be clear, even when we stand before the Lord” (Living Bible).  Two of the best actions I’ve found are prayer and reading God’s Word regularly, it helps to know how to put His love for me and you to work.  If you need more, get with me and I’ll send you a booklet that might be of help.

Pearl finished her story that day telling me of the last action of love Roscoe ever did for her; and that action came in his dying words to his father, “Let mother and sisters know I’ll see them in Heaven.”  Those words tell of an action of love and faith that he wanted the others to know“I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.”  In other words, “I’ll be there waiting for you.”

Pearl went to join Roscoe in Heaven 30 years ago now, and at times when thinking of them and this story, my imagination lets me envision a little one running full stride into the arms of her tall, slender, rugged but handsome big brother who slings her up onto his shoulders where the two of them celebrate being together again, as he then carries her to the arms of her Lord.  What a reunion?!! What a big brother?!!  Oh, what a Savior?!!  Thanks for reading, see you next Monday!!!  

I knew it was some kind of setup the minute these guys started talking to me, but I thought what the heck, I’ll go with it anyway. “Hey Miller, you’re married aren’t ya?”

“Yeah I am, happily too, why?” “Is your wife good looking?” “Yes, I believe she’s very good looking.” “Well I can tell you right now she’s not as pretty as old Bill’s wife.”

This conversation was going on at a place I worked for a short while years ago and the Bill they referred to was a short potbellied figure of a man easily in his sixties and the oldest worker there. These few guys who were needling me seemed to enjoy getting under people’s skin, especially Bill. “Okay, Bill’s wife is prettier than mine, that’s fine,” I answered, but they didn’t want to leave it there. “No, you don’t understand, Old Bill is married to the most beautiful woman in the world! Go over there and ask him, have him show you a picture of her.” I could tell by the smiles of the others as the ringleader spoke that there was a lot more to this story than what was being said, but I answered, “Nah, I’ll take your word on it.” Still these guys weren’t going to let the lazy dog lie, so to speak so one yelled out, “Hey Bill, come here!” Bill, wearing kind of a half smile looked as if he knew what they wanted, so he left his work station and came over to where we were. “Tell Miller here how you’re married to the most beautiful woman in the world and you wouldn’t trade her for any glamorous movie star there is.” Bill answered quickly, “Yeah, that’s right, she’s that beautiful and no, I wouldn’t trade her for any other woman in the world.”   “You’re one very lucky man, Bill,” I offered, and he came back with, “Oh, don’t I know it!” Before another word could be spoken one of the instigators of this whole conversation shot out, “Well show him a picture so he can see for himself.” With no hesitation Bill dug into the back pocket of his overalls and retrieved an old and overstuffed wallet. Opening up to the center he gazed down and smiled at the picture before him, then handed it over for me to see, when I looked upon the image I think my face might have went a little blank and the only word I could come up with was, “Oh,” and the other guys standing there fell all over themselves laughing so hard. In the picture was Bill and a woman every bit as large as him, she had one of those over permed hairstyles, a large mole on her chin and another just under her left nostril. She did radiate with a big smile, but it also made it evident that teeth were no longer part of her anatomy. Bill continued to smile at me as I handed his wallet back over, almost as if he knew what I was thinking, but I managed to get out, “Well I’m sure you two have a wonderful marriage, Bill.” “Oh, we do,” he shot back quickly, married over 45 years and he dug through his wallet until he came up with an old wedding pic to show me. I admit this was a better portrait of his gal, but frankly not by a whole lot. I confessed by now I even chuckled a little thinking old Bill here might be in on pranking me with these other guys. But the more he spoke the more I realized he believed every word that came for his lips. “I met her one day as she sat by the lake and I asked if I could sit with her and she said yes. The more we talked and the more I gazed at her the more I came to realize I had never been with anyone so beautiful in my life. First time she let me hold her hand I thought I would melt, and never wanted to let go. We were together everyday for two weeks before I got the nerve up to ask her to marry me; and one month later we walked down the aisle, said our I dos and have been together every since. I wake up every morning knowing in my heart I’m married to the most beautiful woman in the world and then I thank God for it all. These guys here like giving me a hard, saying all kinds of things I don’t pay a lot of attention to, but I know I wouldn’t leave her alone with any of them, would not trust them any farther than I could throw them!” “Oh yeah Bill,” one shouted out, “just give me chance to get my hands on that hot mama of yours!” And the roar of laughter continued as he closed his wallet, placed it back in his pants and walked back to his work area, and as the day wore on I found myself laughing and cracking jokes at whole thing with them; oh the ignorance of youth sometimes.

I didn’t stay at that job long and never saw many of those guys again, but for whatever reason God would put Bill and his bride in my path occasionally. Every time I saw them they were enjoying being together and I would kid her about keeping Bill out of trouble, they both enjoyed that. As the years went on and I would see them, Bill had to push his wife in a wheelchair because of illness that was weakening her body, but still they smiled when talking to others, and being together. They had a daughter I ran into once and asked how they were since I hadn’t seen them in a while. With sadness she told me her mom had passed away and her dad never was the same afterwards, now he was living in a nursing home. I commented that must have been hard on Bill since they were always together. She commented, “Oh, all the way up to the end, she couldn’t speak or even know any of us anymore, but he was content just to sit by her bed and hold her hand.” Just like when he first fell in love with her,” I thought. I went to see Bill and he smiled big when I came into the room, but it didn’t take long to realize he really didn’t know who I was anymore. There next to his bed on a stand was a picture of his “Beautiful” Lady. I had a feeling he was still remembering her.

Helen Keller said, “The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched – they must be felt with the heart.” Well, if anyone would know that it would have been her; and from what I saw, I believed Old Bill learned that also. You see his words told me he saw her like no else had or even could, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen; beauty like that has to radiate from the inside out. Bill was a lucky man for he saw that beauty that others didn’t see all his life and he counted himself blessed because of it. I believe Bill did what another old saying relates, “Don’t choose the one who the world sees as beautiful, but rather choose the one who makes your world beautiful.”

I generally put a bible passage or two at this point, but today I think I’m not going to do that. To tell the truth, I sat down to write one story and God gave me this one, this memory instead; I got no complaints. But rather I want to say that Bill saw and treated his beloved wife the way God has meant for all men to do; to treat them as they were the most important and beautiful person in their life, that’s God’s way for sure. (If you still need scriptures, get with me and I’ll load you up!) Just imagine what the world would look like if every man saw his wife like that, I think we’re talking something on the level of AWESOME!

It’s now been forty years I’ve “Traveled the Rock Road” hand in hand with my own most beautiful Lady in the world and thanks to ones like Bill and my Lord who taught me how to love, really love and see beauty; well, I think I’m allowed to brag that I am a better and Blessed man.

Men, rediscover the love and beauty you once felt for that person who shares your life, it’ll be beyond words how wonderful you’re going to feel! And if you’ve already that then tell her again, and then again, and then again, just how beautiful she is in your life now and forever. Let me know how it goes will ya? Got a feeling I know anyway!!

See Ya Next Week!

My Lady and I started our lives together like the majority of you do and where we find ourselves today, in other words empty–nesters, no children.  But unlike most of you we began to wonder if that’s where we would live out days.  After marrying we moved to Indiana for me to attend college and then a couple of years passed and we were ready to start a family, only problem was it wasn’t happening.  We tried and even saw doctors to find if there was a problem with either of us, still no children.  A couple of years went by and we came to believe that we weren’t meant to have kids naturally so perhaps God was leading us to adopt.  This seemed like a viable solution to the problem and besides Cathy had been adopted herself so why not for us.

One of the first agencies we went with was a total disaster and we almost gave up entirely (I wrote about this on an earlier Rock Road Story).  Then someone suggested we go with the state agency and even possibly adopt children with disabilities. It wasn’t something we had thought of at that point in life, but the idea seemed to appeal to the both of us.  We applied with the state and quickly were able to see many available children in what some had nicknamed “The Children Catalog.”  Now friends, I don’t care who you are, take a look in this book which I imagine is the same in every state in the union and if it doesn’t tug at your heart strings, check your pulse, because something is wrong!  This volume of adoptable children was every bit as thick as a Sears catalog.  There was everything from babies to teenagers, from just a single child to complete families with as many as six youngsters.  They were of every race with the majority of them having some form of infirmity.  Just turning each page and looking deeply at one of the angelic faces brought tears to our eyes as you can imagine.

We began with an interest in a little girl named Melissa, a little cutie about 5 years old who was classified as mildly retarded.  She had been in a group home most of her life and the agency was anxious to get her into a good home.  Unfortunately, we were so early in the process of getting approved as adoptive parents that she was placed with another family.  I’ve never forgotten, Melissa.  Then our eyes fell on David, a dark haired little guy, probably mixed race, of about three years old who had a sever hearing loss.  In the picture they couldn’t get him to smile.  I had a feeling this was the one meant for us, the one we could make happy and bring that same feeling of happiness to us.  But it wasn’t to be, he was adopted before we could get approved also.  I’ve never forgotten, David.

The last one was Michael, a blondie about the same age as David; he had only two fingers on each hand.  His picture shouted out to us because of the big, even laughing smile he had spread across his face; I think we had found the one meant for us.

But then, one morning, Cathy arose not feeling well, and the feeling continued which came to mean only one thing, after six years the Millers were starting their family.  When we told the agency Cathy was pregnant, we were moved to the bottom of the list to make room for someone else who didn’t have children.  We were of course ecstatic with finally the opportunity to have a child of our own; but still, I’ve never forgotten, Michael.

Everyone who knows us realizes we have gone on to have three wonderful kids who have blessed us beyond anything we could ever have imagined, then with the addition of grandchildren to our lives, we have been living a dream that only God could have created for us.  Add into the factor the many kids that have come through our home at different times in life that still refer to us as mom and dad.  Now that we have returned to the empty-nest and looking back at the numbers of complaints I have from the whole episode, it totals nada!!!  I say it often and I’ll continue to say it, “I Am a Blessed Man!”

Okay, so what’s my point, well truthfully, I’m not sure.  Sometimes a story comes to me that I just start writing and see what God intends to do with it.  This time I believe perhaps there are several lessons here that the Lord might have given me.  So let’s take a look.

The first one that jumps out of course would be patience, waiting on God’s timetable and not creating our own; never seen an instance where ours was better than His anyway.

Check out Isaiah 40:43.

Next, I think we can look at opportunities that God puts in our path to see a hurting world sometimes in places where we never knew existed like orphans nearby us that desperately need someone to love them, and to love back.  Matthew 25:35-40 is a good one to look at.

The last one I can think of is this, it is my belief there are no accidents with who God puts in your path, there’s a reason.  In the case of three little tykes I never got to see personally, only on the pages of book; I feel perhaps they were placed in my path to pray for occasionally.  Never saw them and probably never will, but they’re a part of me so I pray for them.  You ask how can I still remember them after all these years?  Pretty easy actually, you see my kids help me remember the first three, my Jamie Melissa, my Jeremy David, and my Justin Michael.  Pretty cool huh?!!

As each of us make our way “Traveling the Rock Road,” let’s not take anything, any moment or any person for granted that we meet along the way; there’s a reason they’re there, the decision then becomes what do you choose to do with it.

I read one person who put it this way; “Everything happens for a reason.  I may not know why or how, but God does & that is all that matters!”  I’ve got no argument!!

Thanks for reading Friends and Family!!

The year was 1968 and there was a whole lot going on in the world. The Vietnam War was in full swing, the civil rights movement had taken to the streets in every major city in America, the Apollo Space Program was born, a man who had run for political seats several times in the past, only to lose each race, was elected president. Years later during his 2^nd term he would be forced to leave office early in total disgrace. But I feel it goes without saying that the biggest events of that year was the assassinations of two of our beloved leaders, Martin Luther King and Robert F. Kennedy; and the majority of country mourned as one from these terrible tragedies. Many history making events that’s for sure; but for a couple of young teenage boys in small-town Ohio it was a time of fun, mischief, and most of all, dreaming.

Take any early Fall Friday night and most of my classmates could be found at the high-school football game and then off to the after-game dance at the Y. But for me and my man Dave it was getting his older cousin to buy us a 6-pack of 3.2 PBR (For you young readers that was beer you could purchase at 18 in Ohio back then) then down to the river side with our acquired spirits, find a dark place to sit, look across the river into town, and just drink and talk. (Also try to keep from heaving from not being use to alcohol; never worked!) As we sat there in the night, our conversations would touch many subjects, school, music, girls, of course; but the heart of all we discussed would always be on our dreams, where we saw ourselves in the future and what we planned to do with the rest of our lives. For me the dream was always the same, to make music until my dying days. I just knew someday my name would be up there with the most famous musicians of all times and it would be there that I would leave my mark on history and mankind. My buddy Dave wanted to make it in music also, but he had many more dreams and plans, far more diverse than I could even comprehend at times, and all those dreams and plans, came from books. I have yet to ever find another person who could pick up some hardback manuscript like David and become completely immersed in the storyline. As we sat in the dark watching black water roll toward Lake Erie, he would tell me everything about the characters and theme of what he was reading at that time, not leaving out even the slightest detail. While he narrated all he read recently, I would look across the river and even imagine some of the people and events as he regaled on. I could see a man dressed in total black, riding a just as black motorcycle across the desert. I could hear the whistle blow on a warship coming home after a fierce battle at sea and watching sailors come ashore to the waiting arms of loved ones. Wherever his newest story took Dave, I was privileged to go along as he recounted everything with enthusiasm in his voice and a fire in his heart that said, “We’ll do that someday!” The beer would be gone and we’d head off to the after-game dance to act drunker than we really were to impress the girls (Ha Ha!), but we’d looked once more into the lights of our town across the waters, and we dreamed, believing one day that would be our reality.

Hard to believe and even say for that matter, but that moment in time was 46 years ago now. David and I went different directions both leaving our hometown, both perusing our dreams on separate courses. For my dear friend, well the dreams he spoke of never materialized as he had hoped and there were even a few setbacks I don’t feel the need to go into. But because of those dreams, because of his mind’s ability to learn and understand so thoroughly, he realized a gift he was strongest at, working and creating with his hands in a field that was rewarding to him for a time. And when he could no longer do the trade it was shown to others that he was well equipped to teach what he knew to young minds. Times have been tough occasionally, but with the love of his life that God has paired him with, he continues on, the dreamer, the fighter, the achiever.

As for the Gray One here, well I did chase my dream and actually caught it for a brief moment, just long enough to realize it was a life that I was not suited for as well as I thought and hoped. The making of music for many was as great as I had hoped, but the rest of what came into my life brought nothing but depression, and that was a price heavier than I chose to pay. I’ve continued to make music over the years but on a smaller venue and mostly in the arena of praise music to the Lord, something that has brought me more joy than I ever imagined. As for the rest of the story of this man’s life, well I learned a trade that I truly enjoy, one that would have my past science teachers from school days scratching their heads and saying, “Are we sure we’re talking about the same Miller?!!”

So to sum this all up, should we say that David and I were wrong to waste so much time being dreamers? Certainly not, I believe that dreams are truly a gift of God. For without the dreamers where would we be today in every field known to man? Robert Schuller is quoted as saying, “The only place where your dream becomes impossible is in your own thinking.” There’s a good reason God gave dreamers to the world and perhaps you’re one of them. Just a thought.

As always I have to wrap everything I write on around my belief in Christ and His goals for me, not mine. In that process I came to learn that just because my dreams didn’t come true, didn’t mean I was of no importance to others, myself and especially God.

In Jeremiah 29:11 we read, “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

If the Creator of the universe loves me enough to have a plan for my life, who am I to argue His ways for me aren’t as good as my ways, my dreams?

On early Fall nights back in 1968, I stared across a river peering into my hometown and dreaming of the future. Forty six years later I find myself still dreaming as I Travel the Rock Road. Now I look up into the night sky and think about Home, my eternal Home; and I dream about what that will be like some day. The songwriter sums it up for me like this;

I can only imagine

What it will be like

When I walk

By your side

I can only imagine

What my eyes will see

When your face

Is before me

I can only imagine

Surrounded by Your glory, what will my heart feel

Will I dance for you Jesus or in awe of you be still

Will I stand in your presence or to my knees will I fall

Will I sing hallelujah, will I be able to speak at all

I can only imagine

Until then, we dream on Brothers and Sisters, we dream on.

Ron sat across the table from me looking into his coffee cup more than drinking from it. He was tired, even more, emotionally exhausted and just wanted someone to talk to or perhaps sit with him for a while.  Ron had been in the counseling ministry for over 20 years and had seen, heard and dealt with many problems people brought to him, but the one he was now facing brought this big scraping figure of a man to tears.  His heart was breaking after visiting an individual we both knew, due to the words that this person said to him.  Our friend had been diagnosed with a fast spreading form of cancer just a few months prior and now was days from succumbing to this deadly disease.  Ron visited him several times sharing Bible passages and telling of healing for the soul, pleading for him to accept the gift of eternal life offered through Jesus Christ.  And each time our friend would listen as he laid there in his bed laboring for breath to say the same words over and over again, “I’m sorry Ron, I just can’t do that.”  What was the reason for his rejection?   Was it unbelief in what Ron told him or that he didn’t need healing and Heaven?  No, he acknowledged he believed every word, but he was also thoroughly convinced that because of wrongs he had committed in his life, he was beyond forgiveness–even from God.  Okay, that’s case study One.

Case Two is another friend of mine, someone I’ve know since moving to Indiana back in ‘74. Contrary to Case One (Will call him Merle), who has known Christ as his personal Savior for a good portion of his adult life.  Sounds like someone who should possess many positive attributes, right?  “Bzzzz!”  Sorry, wrong answer.  In all the years I’ve known Merle, he’s spent most of his time being the poster boy for the Gloomy Gus Society!  He tries to keep it hidden, but the majority of the time he is emotionally down, distraught and troubled.  So what’s got Merle beaten down?  Same as the first guy, unforgiveness of himself for wrongs committed earlier in life.  Now, many would say here’s an individual who shouldn’t be burdened with such a load of guilt, after all he has the promise of forgiveness of all sins when he came to Christ, right?  Come on Merle, ya got “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness” and “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come!” You’re good; God has taken care of your problem, forever!  Isn’t that enough?  Well, unfortunately for some, even in Christ, the answer is a resounding no.

Okay, I don’t want to labor this subject, so let’s get to finding the answer to forgiving yourself.  Like both of my friends, I have spots in my life that I wish never occurred, moments that I’m not proud of, that if there was a way to go back in time and correct them I certainly would; but I can’t.  I tried several ways to get past my demons, but they would always show up again.  It wasn’t until I learned a valuable lesson about God that I was able to get past my “dark ages.”  And the lesson went like this;

Never, never, never never, never, never, never, never never, never, never, never, never never, never, never, never, never never, never, never, never, never never, never, never, never, never never, never, never, never, never never, never, never, never, never never, never, never, (Gotta take a break, fingers are getting worn out hitting the same keys. Okay I’m back!) never, never never, never, never, never, never never, never, never, never, never never, never, never, never, never never, never, never, never, never never, never, never, “NEVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” let anybody or anything convince you that God can’t handle your bad luggage and love you just the same.  He doesn’t mince words, puts it right out there for all to understand how He feels for each of us.  

Romans 8: 38-39  “For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”  That’s where my hope lies, when I came to Christ and where I am in Him today. Yes, those old memories occasionally come crashing back on me, but they don’t stay because I refuse to be controlled by them.  I have a God who loves me so much He can cover those ills, those sins.  Sure there are scars left that I regret, but doesn’t change God and how He sees me, sees you and His offer of forgiveness no matter what you’ve done.  That goes out to ones who relate to either Case One or Case Two; healing is for all who will accept, the choice is yours.

Still I confess, I’ve stayed bothered by my friend Merle and others like him who call themselves Christians, but live like Sad Sacks no matter how much they know about God’s grace and mercy.  I have quite a few preacher types who allow this old gray one to call them friend and will let me pose questions to them, so I asked them, “Why is it that some Christians can’t find forgiveness for themselves?”  The answer was the same with each, “Primarily because they don’t want it, they choose to hang on to it because they choose to live with the pain.  It’s not that God can’t fix it, it’s like saying, ‘God, I really don’t want you to fix it.’”  Wow, that seems a little harsh, but the cold truth is that’s exactly how it is with many in this situation.  As a Christian, you’ve been given something special, something so amazing and wonderful that it should envelop your entire being. After all if we have the Gift that was given freely and eternally to us, shouldn’t we be living our lives before the world in such a way that others will see and perhaps want the same for themselves; give it some thought, okay?

I’m going to close with this, we all in life “Travel the Rock Road” and it’s not always an easy or friendly path to take.  Adding to the burden of the road by lugging with you unforgiveness, be it for others or yourself will the make the travel harder.  In this short moment we call life, you don’t need that, no one does.  Having a Traveling Companion has made all the difference for this man.  He helps carry the load, even if the load is me personally.  Throw down that unforgiveness my friend, it’s not worth carrying anymore, not when you have something better offered to you; Grace, Mercy Forgiveness.

Yeah, I think I can live with that!!

The calls started back in the mid 70s when I had left home, married and moved to another state.  The individual on the other end of the line would be very distraught, almost uncontrollable during one of these fits of anger.  At the moment of these emotional meltdowns I would hear some of the most heinous stories of pain and cruelty this person suffered at the hands of another, a man who seemed to draw strength and enjoyment and causing others, particularly the one now on the phone who sometimes was yelling, and sometimes in tears from the anguish she had just received at the hands of this ogre of life. But it only took just a few times before I could recognize where this person was heading when they called, and I would listen to allowing them time to vent before saying the same thing, over and over again; “He died years back, he can’t hurt you anymore, you have to let go of this.  Please, I’m begging you; stop thinking about him before it drives you crazy!  I’m here, and I love you, Mom.

That’s the life mom and I led in my early years, scared we would do something to bring the wrath of my great-aunt’s husband down on either of us.  We lived with them because mom didn’t make enough money to support us and as bad as this man was, Great-Aunt Pearl had been a 2^nd mom to my mom since she was young when her real mom died of cancer.  I believe Sweet Pearl’s greatest concern back then was seeing that mom and I had a roof over our heads and food in our stomachs.  Her “beloved” hubby, on the other hand, had a different outlook on us to the point I believed he woke up every morning thinking how he could make our lives a living hell. The last beating came after he got upset with me and swung his hand to hit me in the head.  It wouldn’t have been too bad of a shot; except he had a hammer in his hand (which truthfully I think he forgot about in his anger).  The blood quickly flowed down my head and into my shirt.  When mom saw the damage she instantly went off on him, which in turn caused her to get a beating not worth reliving here in thought or word.  Like I said, as bad as that day was, he never laid a hand on us again.  He had grown older and more feeble from health problems and the next time he went to hurt her, well lets just say she put a scare in him, with a certain sharp kitchen instrument and a promise of a certain demise that would come to him in his sleep if he ever touched her or me again.  Years later she would say, “I would have done that sooner had I known he was such a coward” because from that point on he never touched either of us again.  During his last year of life he was bed stricken from cancer and I very seldom saw him since I refused to go in his room.  When he passed away, I did not go to his viewing nor his funeral; my thinking was he was gone and it shouldn’t have been a time of mourning, but rather declared a national holiday!  The only remorse I felt was for my Aunt Pearl; she knew how he was, but in her own way loved the man.  Other than that I saw his passing as the world finally being rid of a hate monger on the same level as a Hitler, he was gone and soon to be forgotten.  Sorry, didn’t work that way.

My mother was a wonderful woman, wouldn’t have traded her for anyone.  But truthfully speaking she had issues she suffered from, physically, emotionally, and even mentally to some extent.  Because of those issues her mind would drift back into her past, some on the good moments of life, but more often on the darker moments, particularly the abuse she suffered at the hands of this man.  It would only take a instant where someone or something would remind her of those terrible days, and like a time machine she would be whisked back to that moment, reliving every hateful word and every violent blow.  When that happened her only escape was to get on the phone and call me, talk it out and then allow me to ease her heart and mind that he could no longer hurt her, only that wasn’t true.  Because the memory was so sharp and vivid of all that occurred, you could say he was still punishing her from the grave; but to tell the full story, she wasn’t alone.  After one of our conversations where I tried to persuade her everything was alright now, I would spend the next few days battling my own demons, reliving it just as she did.  The only difference was I didn’t tell anyone what I was going through, didn’t think anyone would understand.  After all, how could you tell someone you were still tortured by a person five, ten, twenty years after they passed away?  No one would understand what I thought; it just wasn’t natural to hold on to animosity and bitterness toward a person who couldn’t hurt you any more, right?

The day finally came when I realized I couldn’t handle the situation and what it was doing to me let alone my mom.  Going to a pastor friend of mine, I opened up and told him the whole story of hurt and shame from my past, the first time I had ever spoken to anyone other than my Lady.  He listened intently until I finished, then there was a long moment of silence before he began.  In a soft, rather reserved voice, he told me his own story of hurt at the hands of another, the only difference was this was at the hands of an individual he had come to know and love like a big brother.  His story was every bit as terrible as mine, even worse in some situations and I listened sometimes with eyes clinched tightly shut at what he related to me. “So you and me, we’re part of this minority of silent sufferers,” I said.  He quickly shot back, “Minority nothing!  John, you have no idea how many there are just like you and me, except you said the anger pops up from time to time; I know ones who fight this demon everyday of their lives.” “Well then, since there are so many of us, I guess there’s no real way to rid yourself of it,” I answered, “Just toughen up and deal with it the best you can.”  Smiling my friend answered back, “Now did I ever say that?” and he picked a well worn Bible and read these words; “Let all bitterness and wrath and anger and clamor and slander be put away from you, along with all malice.  Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you.”  “John, I know what you and your mom are experiencing because I talk to people regularly that are in the same boat, many though have this problem with someone that’s still alive and causing hardship to them, that’s even a harder situation.  With each situation, I’ve seen that healing, real healing only happens when forgiveness is given, no strings attached.  No expecting the abuser to come and ask for it first, no expecting them to suddenly change; for you see it’s really not about them, it’s about you healing from the hurt just as you received healing from God when he forgave you through Christ.  Do you have to trust them after that?  I know I wouldn’t!  But then again I’ve found it was the only way to finally be released from the hurt, and the hate.”

When I left his office I spoke these words for the first time, “By the power in the name of Jesus Christ, I forgive Arthur Chester Price for all the hurt he did to me.” And then I did it again, and again, over the next week I probably did it a hundred times.  Over the course of my life since that day I’ve done it many times more but none in the last ten years I think.  If a hateful word of his popped into my mind (and it did often); I’d say, “Price I forgive you!”  If a momentary vision of how he hurt me materialized, I said, “Price, I forgive you!”  And then there was the hardest, dealing with how much he hurt my mom, that was the hardest, but when I did what I had to do it was like being cleansed from inside out; “PRICE, I FORGIVE YOU!!!”

Often I’m reminded of a quote by C.S. Lewis that sums it up like this; “To be a Christian means to forgive the inexcusable because God has forgiven the inexcusable in you.” Personally, if I’m to call myself a Christian, where do I have an argument against this?

I’m not going to close thinking I’ve convinced anyone that I have the answer to healing a terrible hurt; I only ask that you give it some thought and then at least try.  What do you have to lose?  You just may gain more than you ever realize you could.  It took my mother years to come to that point, and to also stop praying, “God, I guess if you want me to, then I forgive the no good rotten *^%$($#@!!  Oh well, like I said it takes a while, some longer than others.

Fellow Travelers of the Rock Road, I beseech you, I beg you, if you’re dealing with unforgiveness, give consideration to what I’ve written.  Do not let one more day go by robbing you of joy, and even more, life!

Let me leave you with a quote from the book, The Shack, which I recommend to any and all who are dealing with this problem;

“Forgiveness is not about forgetting.  It is about letting go of another person’s throat……Forgiveness does not create a relationship.  Unless people speak the truth about what they have done and change their mind and behavior, a relationship of trust is not possible. When you forgive someone, you certainly release them from judgment, but without true change, no real relationship can be established………Forgiveness in no way requires that you trust the one you forgive. But should they finally confess and repent, you will discover a miracle in your own heart that allows you to reach out and begin to build between you a bridge of reconciliation………Forgiveness does not excuse anything………You may have to declare your forgiveness a hundred times the first day and the second day, but the third day will be less and each day after, until one day you will realize that you have forgiven completely.  And then one day you will pray for his wholeness……”  Blessed Healing to All!!

I think it started about 35 years ago when I felt convicted that if I was going to be serious about this way of life called Christianity, there were things I needed to a make a priority in my very being.  Now for some I noticed that means straightening up the way they live by ceasing to do certain things and shunning others who stilled practiced these vile ways, kinda like the old song “I don’t smoke and I don’t chew and I don’t go with girls who do” attitude.  Okay, if that’s where you’re at then; well, I think I’ll just pass on this and tell you what this change of life meant for me as a follower of Christ.  As I have studied the scriptures, I’ve come to believe that it can be summed up in 4 words:  “Faith, Mercy, Grace, Forgiveness,” and all work in correlation with the other three.  So, if this is what I felt was the essence of who I was spiritually, then it was up to me on how well they manifested in my life.  The one that took priority those many years ago was forgiveness, not bestowing it, but asking for it.  

It could be said (as well as being truthful) when looking back at the life I led years prior to that moment that I wasn’t the nicest person you could have hung out with.  Back then I could have started my own religion, “Chief Pastor of the 1^st Church of Bugger and Bloated Heads!”  Now, I wasn’t the worse person around by any means, but I did have a way of looking out for me and what my wants were ahead of others, even to the point of causing some harm by my attitude. (Just being honest here, okay? Stay with me.)  But it wasn’t until years later that the truth of who I was and what I had done came home to roost and it truly sickened me! After talking to others, reading what the Bible had to say and praying a ton’s worth that the decision was made; I would contact every person that my memory came up with that I had wronged, tell them I was sorry, and ask for their forgiveness.  Again, don’t get the wrong idea that I’m trying to show how wonderful I had become.  As the old saying goes, “That dog don’t hunt!” This was something that weighed heavy on my heart that I felt God wanted me to do.  So the quest began.  It wasn’t an easy task trying to remember at first; but I think about the time I felt I had everyone I wronged, God would put a new name in my brain.  (Something He still does today.)  To some I wrote letters explaining what I was doing and asking them to forgive me from how I might have hurt them.  Others I tracked down phone numbers and gave them my speech and request their forgiveness that way.  Then there were a few that I went to personally to carryout my endeavor, these were folks that I really to needed to see face to face to make things right.  When all was finished, the responses were assorted but fruitful.  Some reactions were “Boy, that was a long time ago and I really don’t remember; thank you for what you’ve done, yes I forgive you.”  Then there were the ones that were more like this; “Oh yeah Miller, you definitely were not the pretty end of a horse, but thank you for making it right, I forgive you.”  A few others were willing to do the same, but I could tell they were guarded in how they interacted with me; like saying “I’ll forgive you but just in case let’s not plan any outings together, okay?”  I deserved that, I know, but it still made me feel better to get it done. “Thank you Lord for allowing me to do this and have good results, I know now I’m doing your will!” 

Then the moment came when I went to see an old friend (who no longer fell into that category) to try and right a terrible wrong I had done to him when we were teenagers.  As well as the others had gone, I had every reason to believe this would go just as good.  To put it in the “word” of some of my young friends, “DUDE!!”  When he opened the door I was quick to state why I was there, but not as quick as he was with his response.  “No, I don’t believe you, no I don’t forgive you  no I don’t want to talk to you.  Don’t even try to convince me that you’ve changed; a leopard doesn’t change his spots and people like you don’t change their ways.  Now get off my property and don’t come back.”  And the door went SLAM!  Several thoughts went through my mind looking at that closed door in my face.  I could leave and try again at a later date, I could knock once more and plead with him to forgive me, or I could get real angry, kick the door in, stand on his chest while saying, “Look greaseball, I’m a changed man.  Now you either listen and forgive me of I’m gonna rip off one of your arms and beat you half to death with it!!”  No, I just don’t think that would work the way I hoped it would.  I turned around, headed to my car and left.

With all the successes I had you would think that one rejection wouldn’t bother me, but it stuck out in my heart and mind like a sore thumb.  “Lord, why did this one fail like it did? Was I wrong to approach this person and stir up bad feelings again?  What can I do to make it right and have him forgive me?”  The answer came and at first I didn’t like it, but came to realize it was right.  What can I do to get this man to forgive me?  “Nothing!”

When it comes to hurting people, one has to realize that to some it was a deeper hurt than to others.  That why in Matthew it tells us those words that probably everyone knows be they a Christian or not, “So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you.”

In the scope of life, one truth stands forth no matter who you are or what you believe; there in only one person that you can control their actions and attitudes, and that one person is you. Each of us must make a decision on how we live, how we react to situations, and how we treat others.  Chuck Swindoll said it this way, “We cannot change our past. We can not change the fact that people act in a certain way. We can not change the inevitable.  The only thing we can do is play on the one string we have, and that is our attitude.”

I’ve never contacted the person in question again, perhaps he wasn’t the only one who didn’t forgive me.  I told you that there were a few that were guarded in their approach to me.  Then there were some letters I sent that I did not receive a response to; perhaps they did forgive me but saw no reason to respond.  Or perhaps like my old friend, they just slammed the door in my face with a more silent approach.  I’ll probably never know, but that’s no longer the important matter here.  What’s important is how I choose to conduct my life day in and day out.  The Palmist says this, “Test me, O Lord, and try me, examine my heart and my mind.” Back to looking out for me first, but not the same as before. Now for the purpose of serving my Lord, and serving others; that’s the right heart, the servant’s heart, really, the heart of happiness.

I still occasionally think of my old friend who once walked side by side with me Traveling the Rock Road.  And as I remember that time in life it brings a smile to my face as I picture us as kids once more, laughing and not having a care in the world as long as we were together.  Of course it’s no longer about how he sees me, but still, it’s how I see him; a person worthy of forgiveness like all of us, and someone that can always use a good prayer on their behalf. Who better to do that than a friend, whether he acknowledges it or not.  Awesome!!

Side note: I wish to thank all who have been reading my blog; it’s been a little overwhelming and I expect to hit 10,000 reads this year at the present rate.

All I can say is it’s gotta be a God thing.  I’m good with that!!