A Step
in the Write Direction
November
3, 2014
Update: Typing the words of
today’s song brought back memories. In 1958-60 and 1964-65 I worked at the Nazarene Publishing House.
The music branch of NPH was Lillenas Publishing Company, one of the largest
music publishers in the U.S., named after Haldor Lillenas who wrote the song
below. In 1959, Lillenas passed away and we went to the funeral home for the
viewing. He was 74. After we left the room, we then went to another room at the
same mortuary for the viewing of our Sunday school teacher’s two-year-old
daughter. I couldn’t help but think what a full life Lillenas had and what a
legacy he left while the little girl barely had a chance to live. I wonder what
legacy she would have left. Then I wondered what legacy I’ll leave when my time
here is done. Something to think about!...Yeah! Our daughter and family got here
late tonight from Oklahoma. We’ll see them tomorrow…and the next day….and the
next. So nice to have them back “home.”
Thought for the Day: “Try not to confuse motion and progress. A rocking horse
keeps moving but does not make any progress” (Family Variety Puzzles & Games,
October 2014, p. 144).
Song for the Day:
The
burden that once I carried
Is gone,
is gone.
Of all
of my sins there remaineth
Not one,
not one.
Jesus,
the Saviour, hath ransomed me,
Bearing
my sins upon Calvary,
Giving
me glorious liberty;
My
burden of sin is gone.
—Haldor Lillenas, “My Burden Is
Gone”
Laugh for the Day:
"Please go easy on the bill
for repairing my car," the minister told the mechanic. "Remember, I am a poor preacher."
"I know," replied the
mechanic. "I heard you last
Sunday."
Writer’s Tips: (This week I’m
sharing a thought illustrating why God’s ways are not always our ways. It
doesn’t refer to writing, but it may help someone going through a situation they
don’t understand.)
For Elmer’s Sake
For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord (Isaiah 55:8).
“Lord, why
have you let Mother linger so long? You know she’s ready to go.”
It was
two o’clock in the morning
in December 1982. Sitting in the tiny, smoke-filled waiting room of the
Intensive Care Unit, I thought back over the events of the last eighteen months:
my mother’s cancer surgery, the chemo treatments, my eight trips between
Arizona and Michigan
The week
before, the doctor had told me “24 to 48 hours” and I had summoned my brothers
and sister who had come, along with some of their children, to be by Mother’s
bedside. Day after day we waited and watched. “She quit breathing,” someone
would say and we’d rush to the cafeteria to get a family member. But by the time
we returned, the breathing had begun again.
Exhausted, and
needing to return home for a statewide Christian writers seminar I was leading,
I often found myself alone in this little waiting room, praying and questioning
God.
On this
particular night, however, I was not alone for long. A man in his middle sixties
made his way into the room, dragging his IV stand beside him. “How are you doing?” I asked him.
“Not too
good,” he answered in a low voice. “My doctor told me today I have only six
months to live.”
We chatted for
awhile. Then he asked why I was there and I told him about my
other.
“How did she
handle it when they told her?” he asked me.
I shared with
him about her Christian faith which had kept her all through the years, and also
that many people had been praying for her.
“I used to
pray,” he admitted, “but I don’t anymore. It’s too late.”
“It’s never
too late,” I told him. Reaching into my purse, I took out my New Testament and
turned to John 3:16.
“Listen to
this verse,” I told him. I read the words, putting his name in the appropriate
places: “For God so loved Elmer, that he
gave his only begotten Son, that [if] Elmer believes in him Elmer shall not
perish, but have everlasting life.”
Elmer read the
verse again, then he looked up and asked, “Does that mean there’s still a chance
for me?”
“That’s
exactly what it means,” I answered. I explained the gospel message simply and
then asked if he would like to pray. He bowed his head and repeated the words I
said to him. When we finished, he said, simply, “Thank you,” and left the
room.
The next day
while walking down the hall I looked up and saw Elmer coming toward me. His head
erect, he shook my hand and said, “It’s okay. I’m not afraid to die
now.”
Then I knew
why God had let my mother linger for so long. It was for Elmer’s
sake.
Have a good week spreading
the
gospel
through the printed page.
Donna
Clark Goodrich
dgood648@aol.com
www.thewritersfriend.net
http://donna-goodrich.blogspot.com
A Step in the Write Direction—the Complete How-to Book for
Christian Writers
Preparing Your Heart for
Christmas
The Freedom of Letting
Go
Healing in God’s
Time
The Little Book of Big
Laughs
Christmas
Anthology
Mother/Grandmother
Anthology
Father/Grandmother
Anthology
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