Change Me
Lord change me now and…..
Never let my heart grow cold.
Change me and…
purify this needy soul.
Look into my heart and…..
with your touch cleanse every part.
Remove all my wicked ways and….
make me a blessing for the rest of my days.
Use the power of your unequaled might and….
change all my wrong to your kind of right.
After getting the employees into their jobs for the day, Alfred came back to the shop to take care of some other business. He found a circular pool of congealed blood on the floor of a workroom near the main office. Its center had a print like the back of woman’s head. He saw blood spatters, like red polka dots, on most of the walls, but he did not see his wife, Lucille. By then, confusion and fear were tearing at his mind. He called for her; “Lucille—where are you?” He looked in place—after place, ever fearing what he might find. “She may be in the rest room; is this, her blood? Please, God—help me find her.” Red hand prints were on the rest room walls and all over the mirror and the lavatory, but he did not see Lucille; he was almost overcome by the sight of so much blood. As he turned to leave, his adrenaline took over; he spotted her. She was lying on the floor in a dimly lit corner of the room. She was conscious, but incoherent. Her clothes, and her matted hair, looked as if she had been doused with a bucket of red paint.
In near panic, he leaned her against a wall and called the dispatcher at the sheriff’s office. As he held her against his chest and silently waited for help to come, he could feel her chest pulsate with the irregular rhythm of her heart. He counted the beats, anxiously hoping that it would not stop. A cascade of pictures of what might have happened flooded through his mind; pictures of present possibilities and past pleasures flooded by too. Because of a pact they had made years earlier, he wondered where he might find her living will. The ambulance came quickly, but to Alfred the wait was an eternity. The paramedics, whom he knew, tried to console him while they worked feverishly at getting his wife ready for transport to the hospital. By that time, they knew she had severe head injuries, and they talked about the golden hour and their need to hurry. Alfred watched, and prayed in his heart, “please, let her live.”
The sheriff and his deputies came with questions about what had happened. Alfred thought that it was some kind of accident; “maybe she slipped and fell?” The investigator from the state crime bureau thought that it was not an accident; something a lot more sinister has happened here. He mentioned robbery and rape as possibilities. One of the deputies held a broken brick he had found outside the front door. It was stained with blood, like the blood on Alfred’s hands and clothes. From all of the hard questioning by the authorities, Alfred thought—”do they think I did this?”
At that moment, he was torn between, helping the police get started on their work, and following the ambulance to the hospital. He knew that what had happened was a severe threat to the life of his partner of near fifty years. “I want to see her as soon as possible, but I want to put down any misplaced suspicions that might delay any investigation into the cause of her hurt.”
On Lucille’s desk, the investigator found a voided check written to an itinerant worker she had hired to do some cleanup around the shop. The name on the check struck a chord in the investigator’s mind; he and one of the deputies left immediately to search for the suspected assailant. By then, Alfred was fretting to go to the hospital; he gave the office keys to the sheriff, and, except for his flood of thoughts, started the forty mile drive alone—not knowing, if he would see Lucille alive again.
Now I Know
Some years ago, a parolee of our justice system came into our office and hit my wife on her head with a broken brick. He fractured her skull in two places; she suffered blunt force trauma in at least five others. From the blood spattered over the walls and pooled on the floor, he may have thought that he had killed her; I thought that he surely had tried. When I found her, she could not tell me what had happened. I feared that she would not live to get to a hospital. I only knew to call for help and to hold her. I searched my soul for some kind of solace. Calling upon God seemed to be my only choice. Life was not always without trouble, but I had never dealt with so pressing possibilities.
Over the years, I have voiced consolation to those who had need. I may even have said, “I feel for you”. Now I know that I could not have possibly felt their pain. And more than once, for trouble of equal weight, I have recommended a special trust in the Creator, but I could not have known, by experience, that it would have helped. I had been introduced to Christianity over fifty years ago. I had used my faith to find mental peace at more than one time of anxiety, but none as severe as that bad happening. I had come to a place in time when I knew that, with all the personal power I could muster, I could not alter one cell in the hurt body of my beloved partner. I remember asking God to help, but I also remember acknowledging the terrible prospect, and telling Him I would understand. With that said, the assurance came to mind quickly, and then I knew that the promises I had read in the Bible were true. Even though I walked through the valley of the shadow death for one so dear to me, He was there.
After spending several weeks in two hospitals, we brought her home for the rest of her healing. The bills began to come in. We had not prepared for this kind of circumstance. While we were still in the hospital room, my eldest daughter asked, “Daddy, how will you pay for all this”? I am not sure what I told her, but by then I had come to understand that there were no boundaries to God’s power.
Several New Years have passed since we first felt our calamity, and now I know, how to feel for those who suffer greatly, how to appreciate what was taken for granted, how to thank God for His grace and mercy, and how to trust Him without exception. We have worn the same shoes that they wear. We could tell many stories about how He helped by using His people to make our lives better than if we had been walking alone. Things are good for us now; I never expected such diverse support, and now I know the great pleasure that comes from trusting His everlasting promises. Where there once was a dark cloud, the sun shines brightly.
Since I have been old enough to understand the English language, I believed in a sovereign god. I may have not known the whole meaning of sovereign, but I understood who God was in relationship to me. I learned at an early age, that trusting my being unto something larger than me made my existence easier. At first my faith was “blind like”, in that I did not have any doubts about God’s power, even though I did not fully know how he worked. I felt somewhat the same way about my earthly father. I never worried about food, clothes, shelter and physical safety; I knew that my father somehow would provide.
I became a husband with a wife to love when both of us were still in our teens. We had decided that we would spend the rest of our lives together no matter what. With the same kind of trust that I had in God, I had in her. There was never any doubt as to her love for me, and I knew that she was exactly what I needed as a partner for life. We embarked in many directions, some that would have seemed foolish to many, and some may have been foolish, but we were able somehow to survive. We experienced many things on our journey, our children, our education, our work and both our joy and sadness . We did not always agree as touching all things, but in most cases we were able to compromise.
It has been near fifty years since we first said our vows, and life has been for us about the same as it has for many others; sometimes we were up in every way and sometimes we were down. We went though most of our journey without facing much that seemed severe. When there were trying times we relied on a verse of scripture from the book of Romans that says, all things worked together for good. I never really understood what that phrase meant, but we, with unconditional faith, moved on without fear.
Our parents were healthy and lived long lives. There were no major problems with our children either. Consequently, a good part of our life was without even a funeral for a close relative, but in the last few years we have attended funerals for three of our parents. Our youngest daughter had a cancer scare, and others close to us have died too. Each time we faced adversity, we seemed to better understand how God works, but not yet complete.
In the last half year, one of the things that always happen to other people happened to us. Someone came into our office and brutally beat my wife and left her for dead. Her skull was fractured in two places and she had, at least, five other lacerations to her head.
I normally do not come back to the office during the day. I go out on the job and take care of things there; my wife takes care of the office. She had asked me, a few days earlier, to pick up a check for one of the jobs to replenish the account that was running low. For whatever reason, I did not do it that day. Early in the morning of the day of her injuries, I told her that I would get the check that morning. She said that she might have to go out of town for a while to take care of some family business. As soon as I arrived at the job site, I asked the owner to get me a check and she did, and offered to take it to our office when she went to pick up the mail or something. I agreed but changed my mind and decided to take it myself, but on the way I remembered that my wife might be gone for awhile. I decided to stop and call her, it was a fairly large check and I didn’t want to leave it in the office with no one there. Again, for whatever reason I decided not to call, but to go ahead and take the check to her.
When I opened the door to the office, I saw blood on the floor and on the walls, but did not see my wife. After calling to her and getting no answer, I found her on the rest room floor, all covered in blood and incoherent. She could not tell me anything at all about what had happened. There was blood on the furniture, walls and floor, but none near, or on, the telephone. Apparently, she had not tried to get help, and she probably would not have answered the phone had I called. I leaned her against a nearby wall and called for an ambulance. It was not a long wait, but it seemed much longer. I realized that she was hurt bad, and I knew that I did not know how to help. About all I could do was hold her bleeding head to my chest and pray. I remember talking to God about it. I acknowledged that she was his, and I remember telling him that if he wanted her more than me, I would understand, but that I loved her and wanted to keep her. Then the ambulance arrived, and they proceeded to get her ready for the move to the emergency room.
The drive to the hospital gave me time to reflect on possibilities. I had no idea what had happened. I did not know how bad she was hurt, but I wanted her to be alive when I next saw her. I imagined that she had fallen and had hurt her head on the concrete floor; I did not want to believe anyone had harmed her.
The ambulance preceded me by a few minutes, and at first I tried to catch it; I don’t remember why. About half way, I realized that I was alone, driving fast, and thinking about our life together. I remember asking God to keep me calm, and to give me composure before I got to her room. I remember telling him that it was in his hands as for I was concerned, and that I was going to let him take care of it. There came a peace that I had not felt before: I had never needed Him this much before either.
As I thought about possibilities, I began thinking where I might find a copy of her living will. Again, I remembered the verse form the Bible that said that all things work together for good. And now, I remembered that it was in the eighth chapter of Romans and was in the twenty eighth verse. I think I was seeing it as a promise from God that she was going to be all right. Whatever I thought at the time, I now know that I am thankful for the comfort I felt as I felt His presence.
We were fortunate to get a good neurosurgeon as her lead doctor. He knew how to keep the trauma to her head from causing more damage to her brain. He reassured me that everything was being done for her care, and when she came out of the coma, we would know more about any damage to her mind. During the seventy first hour, her eyes opened, and we felt like a milestone had been reached. I remember walking the halls of the hospital and crying tears of joy and thanksgiving.
Through all of the hours, we were never alone, friends came, called, prayed, offered to help, and did help in many ways. I know people who have no working relationship with God, and do not have many friends; I wonder how they get though the hard places.
It has been six months since she was hurt. She is home now, after spending time in intensive care, in the hospital and in a rehabilitation facility, and each day is better than the day before. I think back many times to the events before and after she was assaulted, and I understand things that I did not understand before. Had they not happened as they did, I might not have gone back to the office and found her. Seeing her sooner might have been too soon. Finding her later might have been too late.
I believe that God has all power, but he has given choice to people, and by that gift many bad things happen. The choice to assault my wife was not God’s, but that of one of his subjects. I know that God does not force any one to do, or not do, but gives one absolute freedom to choose. I also believe that he knew that things would be this way long before they were, and he may have been preparing us for most of our lives.
I wish my wife had not suffered, we say, “had not been hit on the head”, for that I am sorry, but through that hurt, we had the privilege to experience the absolute grace of God. We would not like to go through it this way again, but we think with all sincerity, that we may look back on this experience as one of the high points of our lives. One can never really know the goodness of God, and goodness of his people, until one needs it.
Someone asked if I was angry, and I said not with the person who committed the act. I settled my feelings about him as I first drove to the hospital. I want the guilty person to pay for his crime, and I am not ashamed of that feeling, but I need my mind to be clear for things other than vengeance, consequently he is seldom mentioned except when my wife prays for him. My concern is with our state correctional system that turned a man loose that was still a threat to our citizens. I watch our legislators when they are in session, and I see how they spend money. I am not convinced that bed space management is excuse enough for what happened to us.
In the past, my prayers were mainly prayers of thanksgiving and praise. I have been fortunate enough to be able to take care of most of my needs with the natural abilities allotted me. I have been able to provide food, clothes, shelter and some pleasures by just using the basic powers that most people have. Even though, I acknowledge that they came from God’s goodness, they don’t seem to be of a divine nature.
I now have a tremendous need, and no matter what I know about God’s generosity, it is not easy to ask Him to do something so specifically for me; my youngest daughter has just learned that she has cancer. Her doctor says that it is so situated that surgery is not an option: she must rely upon radiation or some kind of chemical therapy.
If I needed a house, I could build me one, if I needed food I could earn some money and buy it, if I needed clothes I could buy them also. I know that God knows that my daughter is sick and I know that God loves both of us. I don’t want to be a bother to you Lord, but I love my daughter and I want her healed; and I, with all the strength and ability that I could crowd together, cannot change one cell in her body. I am now caught between a rock and a hard place that is harder than I have ever encountered before. I know for certain, that concerning her body, I am helpless. I want your will to be done Lord, but I also want my daughter to be healed.
Far be it from me to try to manipulate your intentions, but if you will bless the minds of the learned physicians who will be planning the course of treatment, I will be forever grateful: I will also be grateful if you choose to heal her by yourself. I want your will to take precedence over mine in every situation, but in our present predicament, I pray that your will coincides with mine.
__________________
We’ve just gone through one of the most trying times of our lives. Two weeks ago my youngest daughter was diagnosed with inoperable lymphoma. Just the word “cancer” brought chills of anxiety down my spine.
More than four of my father’s family have died with that fearful disease; others who’s blood she shares have had encounters with it too.
In my daughter’s case, she is only twenty five years old and is just beginning to get her life’s feet on the ground: I love her very much. I had already worked out in my mind that there was nothing that I could do but to place her destiny in God’s care.
Last week, her mother and I sat with her as her doctor gave us his prognosis. Two learned physicians had concurred as to their diagnosis. I had begged God to do his part and had honestly, from my heart, placed her in his hands. Churches as far away as Texas and Florida had her on their prayer lists. Many friends and relatives had “turned it in” too.
Today, she had an appointment to hear the results of the last battery of tests that were designed to determine her course of treatment. I was not with her on this trip, and I was anxious through out the day; but tonight, I am confident that mine and others’ petitions did not go unnoticed: her new diagnosis is that she does not have cancer after all, but that her situation is somewhat unusual, and she may be one of few whose diagnosis is similar. I am aware that I know little about such medical things, but I now have a stronger faith in one whose knowledge surpasses mine and all others’.
I am grateful for the doctors who do their jobs very carefully, and I am thankful to God for doing what he does too. There is joy on our hill tonight, and about this block of life, I won’t attempt to reach a logical understanding.
__________
After completing a long career with the New York City police department, Adolphus P. Abernathy retired and returned to the small town in South Georgia where he grew up. Because he had seen so many homeless people living out their lives at the bottom of the pile, and with no hope of crawling out, he made up his mind; “I will become friends with all God’s creatures when I don’t have to work anymore”. He had seen a sign on the side of a country store as he traveled the back roads with his father. Before “frigidaires” became standard furnishings of every southern home, his father delivered ice to the iceboxes on his route in a good part of that rural county.
The sign on the side of the store, “I’ll build me a house by the side of the road and be a friend to man.” He remembered all the talks he had with the down and out in the city that never sleeps. He became friends with more than a few, and discovered that many of them, in addition to what else they had been, were philosophers of some sorts too. They were eager to share their opinions, but never their real names. He listened patiently to whatever they said; for in his best judgment, he was a philosopher as well. He formulated theories about every contemplation, and shared them with all who would listen. He shared them, some times, when no one could tell. When chided by his wife, “Adolph, hush your senile rambling, they don’t understand”, he would smile and say, but that’s what old men do all day.
He built him a house with a glassed in room facing a path where many of God’s creatures trod. He waved his hand, and made no rule, until they all knew, he was friend for sure. Adolph went to his room each morning, to see who came by today. He invited them to sit at his table, but their answer was always the same, we are not dressed for the inside of a place like yours. Understanding their feelings, he built their place near his back door. Where they could feel welcome, in whatever they wore, while he visited through the window of his glassed in room. He regularly prepared food he thought they would like, and not one complained, not even Luke. When the day was over, and time for them to go, he would smile and say, y’all come back some time, you are welcome at my place on any day.
One came each morning to the table Adolphus P. Abernathy had affectionately made, and no one knew his name. Thinking he might have something to hide, Adolph did not press him to tell. He seemed to like his visits, as demonstrated by his trust, but whence he came and where he went, not one of us knew. I’ll give him a name that is easy to know, and from that day forth, it was ‘Leroy’ who came to call. They discussed, through the window, politics and literature, finance and war, and philosophy a good bit too.
Many years passed, while they talked through the window of the glassed in room in the house Adolph had built by the side of the road. When asked by his wife to decide on an issue, he would answer this way; I’ll talk to Leroy tomorrow, and see what he has to say. Adolph was pleased that Leroy listened to his opinions without challenge, while nodding his head to concur. There was never any debate over who was right on an issue, or any global problem on which they would confer. They agreed in unison together, there needs to be more tolerance for birds of a different feather. As Adolph grew feeble, Leroy seemed to know, and moved closer to the window, in a place easier for Adolph to go.
Through the window one morning, Leroy was not there to see. Adolph thought little about it, must be some young thing he likes better than me. Days passed, Leroy did not come at all, and Adolph worried and wondered, did I hurt his feelings one day. Adolph, himself, had feelings, that my good friend would do me this way. The neighbor came to visit, and Adolph finally knew, Leroy had not left in madness, but was the main ingredient in the neighbor’s squirrel stew.
A nation cannot “have its cake and eat it too.” It can not have a harmonious citizenry and actively preserve, at the exclusion of any, the absolute culture of any group. If it, or any group within it, desires comfortable equality and real integration, it must not favor any group more than any individual.
I hear people talk about afro-centricity, gay pride, white supremacy, Native American culture and women’s rights. I find it hard to think in these terms and, at the same time, think as a free and equal American. When I think of women as a group, I have to think of men as the opposition. That gives me trouble reconciling my belief that men and women are of equal value, but are, by nature, different parts of the same group. My thoughts of one nation are disrupted when I hear terms related to people’s color, lifestyle, or ethic origin. My mind is really bothered when these terms are associated with our government’s mandated programs.
There is just enough “favor” to go around, and there ought not be competition for it. Competition is said to be good for us, and that may be so in business, but I am not sure that the rivalry caused by bias governing will not fragment our strengths. To give preference to any group, cannot help but deprive individuals, outside that group, of their part.
In fairness to all and in the eyes of the law, there can be no black Americans, Hispanic Americans or white Americans; just Americans. If a united nation is the goal, each person must know, without regard for his culture, his lifestyle or his gender, that he has equal chance under the law.
The solidarity of any nation is enhanced when each citizen understands and endorses his place as a contributing part of the whole. He can understand that place better when he feels that he has been treated fairly, as measured against us all; and the “melting pot” has done its job, when all its citizens feel no prejudice or envy from without, or from within their very souls.
Recently, I heard a mother talking about her teen age daughter’s untimely death. This beautiful young girl was killed in an automobile accident while on an outing with a friend. There was no drugs or drinking involved, the friend was just driving too fast for her experience and lost control on a dangerous curve. The young girl was active in her church, a good student in school, loving and was loved by her family. She had most of a normal life ahead of her, and there was promise of good things to come.
The question, “why her?” was asked by her mother and many others. Why would God allow her to be born and yet allow her to die before her life came into fruition.
After many months, I don’t know that the question has been resolved in minds of some. Can God be blamed? Can the driver be blamed? Most of us are not exempt from unusual circumstance. Things happen that we do not understand, but I feel most at ease when my faith in God has moved me toward acceptance.
About some things, my human insight is obscure, so I do better when I put my trust in one who clearly sees the whole. Maybe there are some human questions for which there are no human answers.
Thirty plus years ago, I was advised by my doctor to have a stone removed from my gall bladder. Since a tetanus shot is a major medical procedure to me, I chose to live with the stone. As I dealt with the aggravation, someone told me that cranberry juice would help the stone production problem. Eager to prevent surgery, I drank a small glass of it each day for all those years. Recently, while having a sonogram for another problem, we looked at the gall bladder and found no evidence of stones. I immediately thought of all that red juice, and how it must have helped my problem. As I tried to validate its usefulness, I also discovered that, since I started drinking the juice of the cranberry, we haven’t had to replace a single muffler on any of our automobiles.
