Listen to "Dreams"
Mothers With Angels
STORIES Page 6
The Empty Chair
A man's daughter had asked the local minister
to come and pray with her father.
When the minister arrived,
he found the man lying in bed
with his head propped up on two pillows.
An empty chair sat beside his bed.
The minister assumed that the old fellow
had been informed of his visit.
"I guess you were expecting me," he said.
"No, who are you?", said the father.
"I'm the new minister at your church," he replied.
"When I saw the empty chair,
I figured you knew I was going to show up."
"Oh yeah, the chair," said the bed ridden man.
"Would you mind closing the door?"
Puzzled, the minister shut the door.
"I have never told anyone this,
not even my daughter," said the man.
"But all of my life I have never known
how to pray.
At church I used to hear
the pastor talk about prayer,
but it went right over my head."
"I abandoned any attempt at prayer,"
the old man continued,
"until one day about four years ago
my best friend said to me,
'Joe, prayer is just a simple matter of
having a conversation with Jesus.
Here is what I suggest.
Sit down in a chair;
place an empty chair in
front of you, and
in faith see Jesus on the chair.
It's not spooky
because he promised,
"I'll be with you always."
Then just speak to him and listen
in the same way you're doing
with me right now.'
"So, I tried it and I've liked it
so much that I do it a
couple of hours every day.
I'm careful though.
If my daughter saw me
talking to an empty chair,
she'd either have a nervous breakdown
or send me off to the funny farm."
The minister was deeply moved by the story
and encouraged the old guy
to continue on the journey.
Then he prayed with him,
anointed him with oil,
and returned to the church.
Two nights later the daughter called
to tell the minister that
her daddy had died that afternoon.
"Did he die in peace?" he asked.
"Yes, when I left the house about two o'clock,
he called me over to his bedside,
told me he loved me and
kissed me on the cheek."
"When I got back from the store an hour later,
I found him dead.
But there was something strange about his death.
Apparently, just before Daddy died,
he leaned over and rested his head
on the chair beside the bed.
What do you make of that?"
The minister wiped a tear from his eye and said,
"I wish we all could go like That."
Remember These Moments
In kindergarten your idea of a good friend was
the person who let you have the red crayon
when all that was left was the ugly black one.
In first grade your idea of a good friend was
the person who went to the bathroom with you
and held your hand as you walked
through the scary halls.
In second grade your idea of a good friend
was the person who helped you
stand up to the class bully.
In third grade your idea of a good friend
was the person who shared their
lunch with you when you forgot yours on the bus.
In fourth grade your idea of a good friend
was the person who was willing
to switch square dancing partners in gym
so you wouldn't have to be stuck
do-si-do-ing with Nasty Nicky or Smelly Susan.
In fifth grade your idea of a friend was
the person who saved a seat on the
back of the bus for you.
In sixth grade your idea of a friend
was the person who went up to Nicky or
Susan, your new crush,
and asked them to dance with you,
so that if they said no
you wouldn't have to be embarrassed.
In seventh grade your idea of a friend
was the person who let you copy the
social studies homework from the night before.
In eighth grade your idea of a good friend
was the person who helped you
pack up your stuffed animals and old baseball
but didn't laugh at you when
you finished and broke out into tears.
In ninth grade your idea of a good friend
was the person who would go to a
party thrown by a senior so you wouldn't
wind up being the only freshman there.
In tenth grade your idea of a good friend
was the person who changed their
schedule so you would have
someone to sit with at lunch.
In eleventh grade your idea of a good friend
was the person who gave you
rides in their new car,
convinced your parents that
you shouldn't be grounded,
consoled you when you broke up with Nick
or Susan, and found you a date to the prom.
In twelfth grade your idea of a good friend
was the person who helped you
pick out a college/university,
assured you that you would get into that
college/university,
helped you deal with your parents
who were having a hard time adjusting
to the idea of letting you go...
At graduation your idea of a good friend
was the person who was crying on the inside
but managed the biggest smile
one could give as they Congratulated you.
The summer after twelfth grade
your idea of a good friend
was the person who helped you
clean up the bottles from that party,
helped you sneak out of the house when
you just couldn't deal with your parents,
assured you that now that you and Nick
or you and Susan were back together,
you could make it through anything,
helped you pack up for university and
just silently hugged you as
you looked through blurry eyes
at 18 years of memories
you were leaving behind,
and finally on those last days of childhood,
went out of their way
to give you reassurance that you would
make it in college as well as you had
these past 18 years,
and most importantly sent you off to college
knowing you were loved.
Now, your idea of a good friend
is still the person
who gives you the better of the two choices,
holds your hand when you're scared,
helps you fight off those who try
to take advantage of you,
thinks of you at times when you are not there,
reminds you of what you have forgotten,
helps you put the past behind you
but understands when you need to
hold on to it a little longer,
stays with you so that you have confidence,
goes out of their way to make time for you,
helps you clear up your mistakes,
helps you deal with pressure from others,
smiles for you when they are sad,
helps you become a better person,
and most importantly loves you!
(unknown)
Daily Survival Kit for Serious Illness
1.Today I am going to try to live
through this day only,
and not dwell on or attempt
to solve all my problems at once;
just focus on the piece that is today.
I can do something for several hours
that would be difficult to even think about
continuing for a month.
2.Just for today, I am willing to accept
the possibility that there is a purpose
to this suffering, that it can be a source
of meaning and growth for myself and others,
though I may not always recognize the ways.
And it seems possible that this suffering
will not be in vain,
because of what may be
some kind of existence beyond.
3.Just for today, let me remind myself
that I am basically a worthwhile person,
worth loving, despite my faults and limits.
I deserve the efforts of others
to help me through my illness.
4.Just for today, I want to be aware
that it is all right to want too much
from others at times.
Illness brings out and intensifies
the small
child in all of us.
And if i feel hurt when all those
who care for me cannot be there,
it may help to remember that they have needs,
frailties, and limitations of their own.
A lack of response does not mean
that they are personally rejecting me.
5.Today I may feel the need
to complain a great deal;
I may have little tolerance;
I may cry;
I may scream.
That does not mean that I am
less courageous or strong.
All are ways of expressing anger over this mess,
of rightly mourning my losses.
Endurance itself is courage.
6.It is my life at stake now.
So maybe today I can allow myself
to be a little less concerned
about the reactions or impressions of others.
Maybe I can allow myself
to feel a little less guilty or bad
about what I did not accomplish or give.
Perhaps today I can be
a little more gentle towards myself.
7.Surviving this is all so difficult.
At times it seems impossible --
that I have had enough.
Down the line I will know if and when
I have had enough,
when I cannot push the limits any further.
I will have the right to choose to stop,
without feeling that I am "giving up."
But today I think I can deal with this illness.
Sorrow runs very deep, but I think I can rise again.
8.Just for today, maybe I can give
health "the benefit of doubt."
The drugs are powerful;
the natural healing capacity of my body is powerful.
And who knows, perhaps there is healing power
in my will to struggle,
and in the collective love and
will of others.
9.Just for today, perhaps I can take heart
that we are all connected.
And I may still have some things left
to contribute to the family of man;
some light to add to the light.
Even now my endurance
(however imperfect) is a gift,
an inspiration for others in their struggles.
10.It seems reasonable that there is
a season for everything,
and a time for every purpose.
Pain, weakness and exhaustion
may distort my senses and spirit.
Today, however, I can at least find
some hope in nature's way,
if not in some master plan.
The chances are fairly good,
and it seems worthwhile to hope
that I will have some cycle of wellness yet.
(Thomas
In the days when an ice cream sundae cost much less,
a 10-year old boy entered a hotel
coffee shop and sat at a table.
The waitress put a glass of water in front of him...
"How much is an ice cream sundae?" ..."
Fifty cents," replied the waitress.
The little boy pulled his hand out of his pocket
and studied a number of coins in it.
"How much is a dish of plain ice cream?" he inquired.
Some people were now waiting for a table
and the waitress was a bit impatient.
"Thirty-five cents," she
said brusquely.
The little boy again counted the coins.
"I'll have the plain ice cream," he said.
The waitress brought the ice cream,
put the bill on the table and walked away.
The boy finished the ice cream,
paid the cashier and departed.
When the waitress came back,
she began wiping down the table
and then swallowed hard at what she saw.
There, placed neatly beside the empty dish,
were two nickels and five pennies?...her tip!
A minister passing through his church
in the middle of the day,
Decided to pause by the altar
and see who had come to pray.
Just then the back door opened,
a man came down the aisle,
The minister frowned as he saw the man
hadn't shaved in a while.
His shirt was kinda shabby and
his coat was worn and frayed.
The man knelt, he bowed his head,
then rose and walked away.
In the days that followed,
each noon time came this chap,
Each time he knelt just for a moment,
a lunch pail in his lap.
Well, the minister's suspicions grew,
with robbery a main fear,
He decided to stop the man and ask him,
"What are you doing here?"
The old man said, he worked down the road.
Lunch was half an hour.
Lunchtime was his prayer time,
for finding strength and power.
"I stay only moments, see,
because the factory is so far away;
As I kneel here talking to the Lord,
this is kinda what I say:
"I JUST CAME AGAIN TO TELL YOU, LORD,
HOW HAPPY I'VE BEEN,
SINCE WE FOUND EACH OTHER'S FRIENDSHIP
AND YOU TOOK AWAY MY SIN.
DON'T KNOW MUCH OF HOW TO PRAY,
BUT I THINK ABOUT YOU EVERYDAY.
SO, JESUS, THIS IS JIM CHECKING IN."
The minister feeling foolish,
told Jim, that was fine.
He told the
man he was welcome to come
and pray just anytime.
Time to go, Jim smiled, said "Thanks."
He hurried to the door.
The minister knelt at the altar,
he'd never done it before.
His cold heart melted, warmed with love,
and met with Jesus there.
As the tears flowed, in his heart,
he repeated old Jim's prayer:
"I JUST CAME AGAIN TO TELL YOU, LORD,
HOW HAPPY I'VE BEEN,
SINCE WE FOUND EACH OTHER'S FRIENDSHIP
AND YOU TOOK AWAY MY SIN.
I DON'T KNOW MUCH OF HOW TO PRAY.
(unknown)
He's My Dad
To Each Staff Member of this Facility:
As you pick up that chart today
and scan that green Medicaid card,
I hope you will remember
what I am about to say.
I spent yesterday with you.
I was there with my mother and father.
We didn't know where we were supposed to go
or what we were supposed to do,
for we had never needed your services before.
We have never before been labeled charity.
I watched yesterday as my dad became
a diagnosis,
a chart,
a case number,
a charity case labeled "no sponsor"
because he had no health insurance.
I saw a weak man stand in line,
waiting for five hours to be shuffled
through a system of
impatient office workers,
a burned-out nursing staff
and a budget-scarce facility,
being robbed of any dignity
and pride he may have had left.
I was amazed at how impersonal
your staff was,
huffing and blowing when the patient
did not present the correct form,
speaking carelessly of other patients' cases
in front of passersby,
of lunch breaks that would be spent away
from this "poor man's hell."
My dad is only a green card,
a file number to clutter your desk
on appointment day,
a patient who will ask for directions
twice after they've been mechanically
given the first time.
But, no, that's not really my dad.
That's only what you see.
What you don't see is a cabinetmaker
since the age of 14,
a self-employed man
who has a wonderful wife,
four grown kids (who visit too much),
and five grandchildren
(with two more on the way) -
all of whom think their "pop" is the greatest.
This man is everything a daddy should be -
strong and firm, yet tender,
rough around the edges, a country boy,
yet respected by prominent business owners.
He's my dad, the man who raised me
through thick and thin,
gave me away as a bride,
held my children at their births,
stuffed a $20 bill into my hand
when times were tough
and comforted me when I cried.
Now we are told that before long
cancer will take this man away from us.
You may say
these are the words
of a grieving daughter
lashing out in helplessness
at the prospect of losing a loved one.
I would not disagree.
Yet I would urge you
not to discount what I say.
Never lose sight of the people
behind your charts.
Each chart represents a person -
with feelings, a history, a life -
whom you have the power to touch
for one day by your words and actions.
Tomorrow it may be your loved one -
your relative or neighbor -
who turns into a case number, a green card,
a name to be marked off with a yellow marker
as done for the day.
I pray that you will reward the next person
you greet at your station
with a kind word or smile
because that person is someone's dad,
husband,
wife,
mother,
son,
or daughter -
or simply because he or she is a human being,
created and loved by God,
just as you are.
(Author Unknown)
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