Blessings from Giving

Three young men were once given three kernels of corn apiece by a wise old sage, who admonished them to go out into the world, and use the corn to bring themselves good fortune.

The first young man put his three kernels of corn into a bowl of hot broth and ate them.

The second thought, I can do better than that, and he planted his three kernels of corn. Within a few months, he had three stalks of corn. He took the ears of corn from the stalks, boiled them, and had enough corn for three meals.

The third man said to himself, I can do better than that! He also planted his three kernels of corn, but when his three stalks of corn produced, he stripped one of the stalks and replanted all of the seeds in it, gave the second stalk of corn to a sweet maiden, and ate the third.

His one full stalk’s worth of replanted corn kernels gave him 200 stalks of corn! And the kernels of these he continued to replant, setting aside only a bare minimum to eat. He eventually planted a hundred acres of corn.With his fortune, he not only won the hand of the sweet maiden but purchased the land owned by the sweet maiden’s father. And he never hungered again.

The more you give, the more you get.
However that should NOT be the reason for your giving. 

 

 

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Two friends

I sat, with two friends, in the picture window of a quaint restaurant just off the corner of the town-square. The food and the company were both especially good that day.

As we talked, my attention was drawn outside, across the street. There, walking into town, was a man who appeared to be carrying all his worldly goods on his back. He was carrying, a well-worn sign that read, "I will work for food." My heart sank.

I brought him to the attention of my friends and noticed that others around us had stopped eating to focus on him. Heads moved in a mixture of sadness and disbelief.

We continued with our meal, but his image lingered in my mind. We finished our meal and went our separate ways. I had errands to do and quickly set out to accomplish them.

I glanced toward the town square, looking somewhat halfheartedly for the strange visitor. I was fearful, knowing that seeing him again would call some response. I drove through town and saw nothing of him. I made some purchases at a store and got back in my car. Deep within me, the Spirit of God kept speaking to me: "Don't go back to the office until you've at least driven once more around the square." Then with some hesitancy, I headed back into town. As I turned the square's third corner. I saw him. He was standing on the steps of the storefront church, going through his sack.
I stopped and looked; feeling both compelled to speak to him, yet wanting to drive on. The empty parking space on the corner seemed to be a sign from God: an invitation to park. I pulled in, got out and approached the town's newest visitor.

"Looking for the pastor?" I asked.

"Not really," he replied, "just resting."

"Have you eaten today?"

"Oh, I ate something early this morning."

"Would you like to have lunch with me?"

"Do you have some work I could do for you?"

"No work," I replied. "I commute here to work from the city, but I would like to take you to lunch."
"Sure," he replied with a smile.

As he began to gather his things, I asked some surface questions.

"Where you headed?"

"St. Louis."

"Where you from?
"
"Oh, all over; mostly Florida."

"How long you been walking?"

"Fourteen years," came the reply.

I knew I had met someone unusual. We sat across from each other in the same restaurant I had left earlier. His face was weathered slightly beyond his 38 years. His eyes were dark yet clear, and he spoke with an eloquence and articulation that was startling. He removed his jacket to reveal a bright red T-shirt that said, "Jesus is The Never Ending Story."

Then Daniel's story began to unfold. He had seen rough times early in life. He'd made some wrong choices and reaped the consequences. Fourteen years earlier, while backpacking across the country, he had stopped on the beach in Daytona. He tried to hire on with some men who were putting up a large tent and some equipment. A concert, he thought.

He was hired, but the tent would not house a concert but revival services, and in those services he saw life more clearly. He gave his life over to God.

"Nothing's been the same since," he said, "I felt the Lord telling me to keep walking, and so I did, some 14 years now."

"Ever think of stopping?" I asked.

"Oh, once in a while, when it seems to get the best of me. But God has given me this calling. I give out Bibles. That's what's in my sack. I work to buy food and Bibles, and I give them out when His Spirit leads."

I sat amazed. My homeless friend was not homeless. He was on a mission and lived this way by choice. The question burned inside for a moment and then I asked: "What's it like?"
"What?"

"To walk into a town carrying all your things on your back and to show your sign?"
"Oh, it was humiliating at first. People would stare and make comments. Once someone tossed a piece of half-eaten bread and made a gesture that certainly didn't make me feel welcome. But then it became humbling to realize that God was using me to touch lives and change people's concepts of other folks like me."

My concept was changing, too. We finished our dessert and gathered his things. Just outside the door, he paused. He turned to me and said, "Come Ye blessed of my Father and inherit the kingdom I've prepared for you. For when I was hungry you gave me food, when I was thirsty you gave me drink, a stranger and you took me in."

I felt as if we were on holy ground. "Could you use another Bible?" I asked.
He said he preferred a certain translation. It traveled well and was not too heavy. It was also his personal favorite. "I've read through it 14 times," he said. "I'm not sure we've got one of those, but let's stop by our church and see." I was able to find my new friend a Bible that would do well, and he seemed very grateful.

"Where are you headed from here?"

"Well, I found this little map on the back of this amusement park coupon."
"Are you hoping to hire on there for awhile?"

"No, I just figure I should go there. I figure someone under that star right there needs a Bible, so that's where I'm going next."

He smiled, and the warmth of his spirit radiated the sincerity of his mission. I drove him back to the town-square where we'd met two hours earlier, and as we drove, it started raining.We parked and unloaded his things.

"Would you sign my autograph book?" he asked. "I like to keep messages from folks I meet."
I wrote in his little book that his commitment to his calling had touched My life. I encouraged him to stay strong. And I left him with a verse of scripture from Jeremiah, "I know the plans I have for you, "declared the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you a Future and a hope."

"Thanks, man," he said. "I know we just met and we're really just
strangers, but I love you."

"I know," I said, "I love you, too."

"The Lord is good!"

"Yes, He is. How long has it been since someone hugged you?" I asked.
"A long time," he replied.

And so on the busy street corner in the drizzling rain, my new friend and I embraced, and I felt deep inside that I had been changed. He put his things on his back, smiled his winning smile and said, "See you in the New Jerusalem."

"I'll be there!" was my reply.

He began his journey again. He headed away with his sign dangling from his bedroll and pack of Bibles. He stopped, turned and said, "When you see something that makes you think of me, will you pray for me?"

"You bet," I shouted back, "God bless."

"God bless." And that was the last I saw of him.

Late that evening as I left my office, the wind blew strong. The cold front had settled hard upon the town. I bundled up and hurried to my car. As I sat back and reached for the emergency brake, I saw them... a pair of well-worn brown work gloves neatly laid over the length of the handle. I picked them up and thought of my friend and wondered if his hands would stay warm that night without them.

Then I remembered his words: "If you see something that makes you think of me, will you pray for me?"

Today his gloves lie on my desk in my office. They help me to see the world and its people in a new way, and they help me remember those two hours with my unique friend and to pray for his ministry.
"See you in the New Jerusalem," he said. Yes, Daniel, I know I will...

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Make love a part of your life

Once upon a time all feelings and emotions went to a coastal island for a vacation. According to their nature, each was having a good time. Suddenly, a warning of an impending storm was announced and everyone was advised to evacuate the island.

The announcement caused sudden panic. All rushed to their boats. Even damaged boats were quickly repaired and commissioned for duty.

Yet, Love did not wish to flee quickly. There was so much to do. But as the clouds darkened, Love realised it was time to leave. Alas, there were no boats to spare. Love looked around with hope.
Just then Prosperity passed by in a luxurious boat. Love shouted, “Prosperity, could you please take me in your boat?”

“No,” replied Prosperity, “my boat is full of precious possessions, gold and silver. There is no place for you.”

A little later Vanity came by in a beautiful boat. Again Love shouted, “Could you help me, Vanity? I am stranded and need a lift. Please take me with you.”

Vanity responded haughtily, “No, I cannot take you with me. My boat will get soiled with your muddy feet.”

Sorrow passed by after some time. Again, Love asked for help. But it was to no avail. “No, I cannot take you with me. I am so sad. I want to be by myself.”

When Happiness passed by a few minutes later, Love again called for help. But Happiness was so happy that it did not look around, hardly concerned about anyone.

Love was growing restless and dejected. Just then somebody called out, “Come Love, I will take you with me.” Love did not know who was being so magnanimous, but jumped on to the boat, greatly relieved that she would reach a safe place.

On getting off the boat, Love met Knowledge. Puzzled, Love inquired, “Knowledge, do you know who so generously gave me a lift just when no one else wished to help?”
Knowledge smiled, “Oh, that was Time.”

“And why would Time stop to pick me and take me to safety?” Love wondered.
Knowledge smiled with deep wisdom and replied, “Because only Time knows your true greatness and what you are capable of. Only Love can bring peace and great happiness in this world.”


“The important message is that when we are prosperous, we overlook love. When we feel important, we forget love. Even in happiness and sorrow we forget love. Only with time do we realize the importance of love. Why wait that long? Why not make love a part of your life today?”

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True Story Of Courage And Love

Walking down a path through some woods in Georgia, I saw a water puddle ahead on the path. I angled my direction to go around it on the part of the path that wasn't covered by water and mud. As I reached the puddle, I was suddenly attacked! Yet I did nothing for the attack was so unpredictable and from a source so totally unexpected. I was startled as well as unhurt, despite having been struck four or five times already. I backed up a foot and my attacker stopped attacking me. Instead of attacking more, he hovered in the air on graceful butterfly wings in front of me. Had I been hurt I wouldn't have found it amusing, but I was unhurt, it was funny, and I was laughing. After all, I was being attacked by a butterfly! 



Having stopped laughing, I took a step forward. My attacker rushed me again. He rammed me in the chest with his head and body, striking me over and over again with all his might, still to no avail. For a second time, I retreated a step while my attacker relented in his attack. Yet again, I tried moving forward. My attacker charged me again. I was rammed in the chest over and over again. I wasn't sure what to do, other than to retreat a third time. After all, it's just not everyday that one is attacked by a butterfly. This time, though, I stepped back several paces to look the situation over. My attacker moved back as well to land on the ground. That's when I discovered why my attacker was charging me only moments earlier. He had a mate and she was dying. She was beside the puddle where he landed. 


Sitting close beside her, he opened and closed his wings as if to fan her. I could only admire the love and courage of that butterfly in his concern for his mate. He had taken it upon himself to attack me for his mate's sake, even though she was clearly dying and I was so large. He did so just to give her those extra few precious moments of life, should I have been careless enough to step on her. Now I knew why and what he was fighting for. There was really only one option left for me. I carefully made my way around the puddle to the other side of the path, though it was only inches wide and extremely muddy. His courage in attacking something thousands of times larger and heavier than himself just for his mate's safety justified it. I couldn't do anything other than reward him by walking on the more difficult side of the puddle. He had truly earned those moments to be with her, undisturbed.



I left them in peace for those last few moments, cleaning the mud from my boots when I later reached my car. 



Since then, I've always tried to remember the courage of that butterfly whenever I see huge obstacles facing me. I use that butterfly's courage as an inspiration and to remind myself that good things are worth fighting for.

 

 

 

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Three Yellow Roses

I walked into the grocery store not particularly interested in buying groceries. I wasn't hungry. The pain of losing my husband of 37 years was still too raw. And this grocery store held so many sweet memories.

Rudy often came with me and almost every time he'd pretend to go off and look for something special. I knew what he was up to. I'd always spot him walking down the aisle with the three yellow roses in his hands. Rudy knew I loved yellow roses.

With a heart filled with grief, I only wanted to buy my few items and leave, but even grocery shopping was different since Rudy had passed on. Shopping for one took time, a little more thought than it had for two.

Standing by the meat, I searched for the perfect small steak and remembered how Rudy had loved his steak. Suddenly a woman came beside me. She was blond, slim and lovely in a soft green pantsuit. I watched as she picked up a large pack of T-bones, dropped them in her basket, hesitated, and then put them back. She turned to go and once again reached for the pack of steaks. estly, at these prices, I don't know." I swallowed the emotion down my throat and met her pale blue eyes. "My husband passed away eight days ago," I told her. Glancing at the package in her hands, I fought to control the tremble in my voice. "Buy him the steaks. And cherish every moment you have together." She shook her head and I saw the emotion in her eyes as she placed the package in her basket and wheeled away.
I turned and pushed my cart across the length of the store to the dairy products. There I stood, trying to decide which size milk I should buy. A quart, I finally decided and moved on to the ice cream section near the front of the store. If nothing else, I could always fix myself an ice cream cone. I placed the ice cream in my cart and looked down the aisle toward the front.

I saw first the green suit, then recognized the pretty lady coming towards me. In her arms she carried a package. On her face was the brightest smile I had ever seen. I would swear a soft halo encircled her blonde hair as she kept walking towards me, her eyes holding mine. As she came closer, I saw what she held and tears began misting in my eyes.

"These are for you," she said and placed three beautiful long stemmed yellow roses in my arms."When you go through the line, they'll know these are paid for." She leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on my cheek, then smiled again.

I wanted to tell her what she'd done, what the roses meant, but still unable to speak, I watched as she walked away, tears clouding my vision. I looked down at the beautiful roses nestled in the green tissue wrapping and found it almost unreal. How did she know? Suddenly the answer seemed so clear. I wasn't alone.


"Oh, Rudy, you haven't forgotten me, have you?" I whispered, with tears in my eyes. He was still with me, and she was his angel.

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The Wedding Quilt

Like most young couples, my husband and I didn’t have money for extravagant gifts on our first wedding anniversary. We were content to exchange thoughtful anniversary cards inscribed with mushy verses, enjoy a home cooked meal, and watch a romantic comedy at home. Simply being able to enjoy each other’s company was sufficient enough. We loved each other and no gift on the face of the earth could even come close to reciprocating our love for one another.

So when the mailman knocked on the door, I was very surprised to see a medium-sized package from my mother. Both eager and curious to see what was awaiting us in the package, I quickly ripped open the box and immediately my eyes filled with tears. Inside the box was a neatly folded quilt my mother had made by hand. It was white with lilac patterns intertwined and stitched with gold thread. The backing consisted of beautiful tiny purple flowers similar to those in my wedding bouquet.
Accompanying the gorgeous quilt was a note from my mother:

“Stephenie and Corey, Happy Anniversary! Enclosed is your very own Wedding Ring quilt. The purple of course was your wedding color and the gold thread represents the golden rings you two exchanged on your wedding day. May this quilt keep you warm when times are cold and remind you of the day you said your vows—Love, Mom.”

I was touched beyond words. My mom knew that we didn’t have the money to enjoy a fancy anniversary that year, and I knew that my mom didn’t have the money to spend on materials for such a beautiful quilt. And yet she surely had sacrificed to be able to afford this. The time alone it must have taken to hand stitch such a detailed quilt was mind boggling to me. I just pictured my mother coming home from a long day at work and staying up until the wee hours of the night delicately piecing the quilt together with each stitch gingerly sewn. My husband and I both knew that with each stitch a part of my mom’s love was sewn right into the quilt. How could any gift ever compare to such a genuine gift?

Many years have passed since my husband and I celebrated our first anniversary together, but neither of us has forgotten the beautiful quilt we received. My husband always jokes that the best anniversary present I have ever received wasn’t from him but from my mother, and I agree.

 

 

 

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The Power Of Love

From the very beginning, the girl's family objected strongly to her dating this guy... saying that it has got to do with family background... and that the girl will have to suffer for the rest of her life if she were to be with him.

Due to her family's pressure, the couple quarreled very often. Though the girl loved the guy deeply, she always asked him: "How deep is your love for me?" As the guy was not good with words, this often caused the girl to be very upset. With that and the family's pressure, the girl often vented her anger on him. As for him, he endured it in silence.

After a couple of years, the guy finally graduated and decided to further his studies overseas. Before leaving, he proposed to the girl: "I'm not very good with words. But, all I know is that I love you. If you allow me, I will take care of you for the rest of my life. As for your family, I'll try my best to talk them around. Will you marry me?"

The girl agreed, and with the guy's determination, the family finally gave in and agreed to let them get married. So, before he left, they got engaged.

The girl went out to the working society, whereas the guy was overseas continuing his studies. They shared their love through emails and phone calls. Though it was hard, both never thought of giving up.

One day, while the girl was on her way to work, she was knocked down by a car that lost control. When she woke up, she saw her parents beside her bed. She realized that she was badly injured. Seeing her mum crying, she wanted to comfort her. But she realized that all that could come out of her mouth was just a sigh. She had lost her voice.

The doctors said the impact on her brain had caused her to lose her voice. Listening to her parents' discomfort, but with nothing coming out from her, she broke down.

During her stay in the hospital, besides silent crying...  it's still just a silent cry that accompanied her. Upon reaching home, everything seemed to be the same. Except for the ringing tone of the phone, which pierced into her heart every time it rang. She does not wish to let the guy know. And not wanting to be a burden to him, she wrote a letter to him saying that she does not wish to wait any longer. With that, she sent the ring back to him. In return, the guy sent seemingly millions  of messages, and countless phone calls. All the girl could do was cry. The parents decided to move away, hoping that she could eventually forget everything and finally be happy.

With a new environment, the girl learned sign language and started a new life. Telling herself everyday that she must forget the guy. One day, her friend came and told her that he's back. She asked her friend not to let him know what happened to her. Since then, there wasn't anymore news of him.
A year had passed and her friend came with an envelope, containing an invitation card for the guy's wedding. The girl was shattered. When she opened the letter, she saw her name in it instead.
When she was about to ask her friend what's going on, she saw the guy standing in front of her. He used sign language, he told her, "I've spent a year's time learning sign language. Just to let you know that I've not forgotten our promise. Let me have the chance to be your voice. I Love You." With that, he slipped the ring back onto her finger. The girl finally smiled.

 

 

 

 

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The Marine and the Girl Next Door

On December 31, 2008, at 11:30 PM I was at Thunderbird Hospital in Phoenix, Arizona with my wife. She was hospitalized on Christmas Day with double pneumonia and placed in the special care unit. Our children and grandchildren were home waiting for me, but I did not want to leave my wife alone on New Years Day. I wanted to be by her side when the clock struck 12. You see, we have been married for 38 years and I thank God everyday for giving me such a wonderful wife. Even though we have grown old together, I can still remember the first day that I laid my eyes on her.


Puerto Rico, the land of Enchantment

The year was 1971, the United States was still scarred with the racial riots of the 1960s during the Civil Rights movement, political assassinations and the Vietnam War. It seemed as the whole world was a mess when I was discharged from the Marine Corps. I was a native New Yorker who had served two tours in Nam. During this time my father (my parents were divorced) had moved to Puerto Rico and founded The Puerto Rico Real Estate Corp., a small business with a big name. When I was asked at Camp Pendleton, where did I plan to go upon my discharge, I had a choice, I could have returned to New York City where I had a job waiting for me in a bank or take a short vacation and visit my dad in Puerto Rico (my mother who had re-married had also moved to the island). I thought about all the horrors of war that I and my fellow men had been through for an ungrateful nation. I thought about how badly and unfair our soldiers were being treated by the media and war protesters. I thought about the discrimination which I had witnessed and been subject to just because I was Puerto Rican. I then decided go to Puerto Rico, not knowing what fate had in store for me.
The day was March 28, when I arrived at San Juan International Airport. Here I was, a young 21 year old Marine in my uniform with a chest full of medals waiting for my father to pick me up. Even though I didn’t know much Spanish, since we barely spoke it at home, and the island was hot and humid, it felt great to be in the land where my parents were born. I thought to myself "In the United States people could tell me Go Back to Puerto Rico, even though I was born in New York, in Puerto Rico, I figured that no one could be prejudice against me for being Puerto Rican". Well, my father finally arrived and after the required hugging, loaded my bags in his car and took off.


Love at first sight

After about an hours ride, we were finally in the town of Bayamon where my father lived. I was busy enjoying the view and as we were getting closer to my father’s house, my father suddenly turned to me and said: "See that girl walking over there?" I looked and for a moment I couldn’t believe my eyes. There was this beautiful girl, walking alone on the sidewalk, her golden hair so nice and long, her body so perfect, she was wearing an outfit that was called something like "Coolot" which was a short pants that resembled a mini-dress. And when I saw her face, My God! I had never seen such a beautiful face in my life. She was a goddess, I kid you not. You ever hear the 1963 song "Just one look, and I fell in love, love, LOVE" sung by Doris Troy?, well, that’s how I felt. Anyway since I was so cool (at least I thought I was), I answered my dad’s question: "Yes, she is very pretty". Then my dad said: "She is our next door neighbor" My mind went wild and I thought to myself "WHAT!, Holy S--t". Then I turned to my father and I told him the following: "She is? Well you know what? She is going to be my girlfriend and my wife". My father laughed and said "Tony, you always say that about all the girls" and I answered, "Not this time, this is the one".

The next day I went out to my fathers balconey, hoping to get a glimpse of her and there she was on the balconey of her house. We looked at each other and you know that saying "I must be in heaven because I just saw a angel looking at me" well it’s true, this was love at first sight. I waved and said "Hi" and she looked at me and smiled and waved then she went inside her house. So I went to the back yard and started shooting some hoops. That is when I realized that someone was checking me out. Yep, some one was behind the window blinds in her house starring and I knew that it just had to be her. Despite the fact that I was and still am a terrible basketball player, I tried my best to impress the stranger checking me out. Soon this little 8 year old boy from the neighborhood called "Peter" came to my door with a note from her. She wanted to know my name, in Spanish! (she didn’t know English). Of course I didn’t waste any time and I sent her a note in return with my name and in turn asked for her name. Peter returned with another note and that is when I found out that her name was "Milagros" which in English means miracle. What a beautiful name, the most beautiful name that I have ever heard.

I then did what any red blooded American of Puerto Rican descent would have done in my place. I took a crash course in Spanish. I started by reading a Spanish bible and watching Spanish T.V. If something came up that I didn’t understand I would ask my dad. I found out that she was seventeen, she had just recently celebrated her seventeenth birthday that March 25th. You remember that song by the Beatles "She was just seventeen, and you know what I mean, the way she looked was beyond compare"? Well, I think that they had her in their mind when they wrote it, plus we were both born on March, I took that as a good sign.

Now let me tell you, in New York I was the type of guy who would go up to any girl, put my arm around her and end up going out with her. But, in her case she made the first move by sending me notes and I felt like a wimp, so a week later I finally asked her for a date. I didn’t dare go to her house because she was an only daughter and her father didn’t strike me as the friendly type, so we decided to go separately and meet at my mother’s house in Levittown in the nearby town of Toa Baja. I arrived first and waited for her at the bus stop. After she arrived we walked together and talked. I introduced her to my family and we went with my sister Greta and her boyfriend to this place called Isla de Cabra (Goat Island, romantic isn‘t it?). Once we were there, I whispered to my sister to get lost and then finally I was alone with the girl who would turn out to be the love of my life. We talked for a while, she had the most amazing smile and when I looked into her beautiful eyes it was as if we were the only two people in the world. Yes, it was like that song made popular by the Flamingos "I only have eyes for you". Then we kissed and I told myself "Oh my God, I am in love and I barely know her". I knew then that I was going to marry this girl and spend the rest of my life with her. I asked her to be my girlfriend right there and then. Do you know what she answered? She said yes!
We would call each other everyday and talk for hours, plus she would tell her parents that she was going to visit a friend and we would see each other secretly. During this time we agreed to be completely honest with each other and we told each other all of the details of each others lives, both the good and the bad. We promised to always be faithful and if one of us fell out of love we promised that we would break up before double crossing each other with some one else.


The Tortilla incident

By May, Milagros’ mother finally allowed me to visit her at her house as long as her father was not there. Her mother was really nice and even felt sorry for me because I was so skinny. That worked out to my favor because I was invited (when her father wasn’t there) for dinner almost everyday. I also found out that Milagros knew how to cook. One day she made me a Tortilla (which in Puerto Rican means egg omelette ) the only thing was that she over did it with the salt and it reminded me of the taste that you get when the water of a wave gets into your mouth. She was so happy because it was the first time that she made something for me and then she asked "Como esta?" (How is it?) I told her "It is salty and kind of reminds me of the beach". Man, did she get mad. It was the first time that I had ever seen her mad. It was the prettiest mad face that I had ever seen.. Needless to say, she didn’t make me another Tortilla for years. Finally one day, I asked Milagros to marry me. I told her that I was very serious about this and that if she married me it would be until death do us part. You see, my parents divorced when I was a child and I didn’t want any children that we may have in the future to go through what I did. I also promised that I would find a job at a bank (I was unemployed) and go to college. You know what? She said yes! Then she told her mom. I thought for sure that she was going to kill me or something, but to my surprise she became happy as hell. The father did not know.


The Coconut incident

June arrived and I decided to ask her father for his daughters hand in marriage. Now picture this: Milagros was seventeen and an only daughter. We had only known each other for only three and a half months. We were planning on getting married in August, exactly five months after we first met. When I went to her house Milagros and her mother told me that the father was in the driveway cutting open a coconut. They promised that they were going to be behind me when I went in there to talk to him and I said "Let’s go". I quietly walked up to him and said "Mr. Rivera, I would like to talk to you" He had this huge machete in his hand and was hacking away at this poor coconut like it was his worse enemy. He looked mean and didn’t even look up to me when he asked "What do you want to talk about?" I took a deep breath and said "I would like your daughter’s hand in marriage". He just kept hacking away and asked "When?" That is when I looked around and realized that I was all alone with a man with a machete in his hand. Milagros and her mother were nowhere in sight. I told myself "Oh man, this is it! This is the end of the road, this is where I die" and then I answered "In August". He then took one great swing at the poor coconut and said "O.K.". I couldn’t believe it, I got out of there as fast as I could before he changed his mind (No, I didn’t pee on myself) and mistook me for the coconut.


God Bless the day I found her

Needless to say, we were married at Bayamon’s St. Agustin church on August 20th. Even though almost everybody believed that our marriage wouldn’t last, it didn’t matter to me because it was one of the best things that I have ever done in my life and if I had to do it a hundred times over I would do it without a second thought. Only nine people attended our wedding (No, my future father-in-law with his machete and the coconut did not go), but I didn’t care, I mean after we exchanged our vows, the rings and we sealed our love with a kiss, I looked at my wife and as the lyrics to the song "So much in Love" by Tymes would say: "As we stroll along together, Holding hands, walking all alone. So in love are we two, That we don't know what to do. So in love, In a world of our own." I knew that God had blessed me more then I deserved. The Marine and the girl next door will be together for evermore.



Now thirty eight years later we have three wonderful children, two sons Antonio and Jose, a daughter Nilda and two beautiful granddaughters Isabel and Nina. My wife is fine now, she is out of the hospital, but every time that I look at her, my partner, my best friend, the love of my life, I think about the tune sung by the Everly Brothers which goes "God Bless the day I found you, I want to stay around you, now and forever, let it be me".

 

 

 

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She's In My Heart Forever

As a Hospice Volunteer, I'm told my Nursing Home patient is not responsive to stimulation. She doesn't respond to anyone. She doesn't speak. She doesn't show emotion. When I visited, even though it was July, I 'played' a tape of Christmas Carols... something we all can relate to...something we're all familiar with. She has dementia. She has forgotten so much. She has forgotten how to live. I hold her hands. I look into her eyes. I talk to her as the music plays. I watch as I see a smile upon her face. I listen as she tries to speak. I hug her. I remind her she is a 'child of God'. I remind her of the gift He is to each of us. As we listen to songs that speak of His birth, I remind her that He died for us. He hung upon the Cross at Calvary for our sins.

I glance around to see her friend has tears streaming down his face. Why? "She hasn't smiled or spoken for so long...I can't remember", he says. He's been there every day for 8 years to watch over her. He has been there but everyone has told him she doesn't respond. So he just sits with her. He does what he can, but frankly, he doesn't know what to do. He too is lost. He has watched her plight as she diminished in health over the years, but he never let her down in his faithfulness to her. He was always a loving presence for her. Now, once again, he has just seen 'a spark' in his sweet lady. He too smiles.

Most every time I visited after that I'd find him...There in her room, talking to her, as he held her hand and he never left without telling her "I love you" and hugging her. There wasn't much response...but there was 'that little bit' and he reached out for it on every visit. One day, as he was about to leave he reached behind her to hug me. He then said "I love you" to her, as he has so many times before. She doesn't respond. He walks past her to leave, his back to her, and says "She knows I love her, don't you gal?". There! A sudden, loud 'Yes' is in the air. She spoke. He moved on. He couldn't stop. He couldn't compose himself. She'd confirmed what we all knew by then. She heard. She loved. She was trying so hard to express herself.

Did I make a difference? Yes...But only because I was trained to believe that hearing is the last sense to leave us. I leaned heavily on that belief and her friend learned from me. No one had ever told him what to do, how he could communicate with her, that she might hear him though she didn't respond, so he had given up. But he never gave up on loving her. He never gave up on coming to check on her.
Now she responds. It's a smile...a word here and there...a little move of her fingers against his as he hold her hands. But it's all communication. She had it all along. Is it because no one was listening to her? Because no one was talking to her? I suppose. But that's all changed.

One night I sit in a chair beside her bed and told her how fortunate she was to have someone to come visit her each day, reminding her of how much he loved her! How much I loved her! How very much God loved her! I knew in my heart she understood me. I cried as I talked. I let my emotions go. She squeezed my hand, as I saw tears roll from her eyes. She did hear. She remembered love and compassion, though she may have forgotten all else over the years.

The circumstances are different...but that's the way God is toward us. We forget Him. We put Him aside for worldly things. And though we think He isn't hearing us, when we call out to Him, He is there. He is our Guide and our Protector. He constantly shows us Love and Compassion, but we have to open our hearts to hear Him and feel His warmth. Only then can we truly share Him with others...like this woman who may have needed to be reminded that God was still with her.
I stayed with her the night she died. Her face glowed with "the peace of God, which passeth all understanding", as she took her last breath. Philippians 4 describes it best.

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Scars of Love

Some years ago on a hot summer day in south Florida a little boy decided to go for a swim in the old swimming hole behind his house. In a hurry to dive into the cool water, he ran out the back door, leaving behind shoes, socks, and shirt as he went.

He flew into the water, not realizing that as he swam toward the middle of the lake, an alligator was swimming toward the shore. His mother in the house was looking out the window saw the two as they got closer and closer together. In utter fear, she ran toward the water, yelling to her son as loudly as she could. Hearing her voice, the little boy became alarmed and made a U-turn to swim to his mother. It was too late. Just as he reached her, the alligator reached him. From the dock, the mother grabbed her little boy by the arms just as the alligator snatched his legs. That began an incredible tug-of-war between the two. The alligator was much stronger than the mother, but the mother was much too passionate to let go. A farmer happened to drive by, heard er screams, raced from his truck, took aim and shot the alligator.

Remarkably, after weeks and weeks in the hospital, the little boy survived. His legs were extremely scarred by the vicious attack of the animal. And, on his arms, were deep scratches where his mother's fingernails dug into his flesh in her effort to hang on to the son she loved.

The newspaper reporter, who interviewed the boy after the trauma, asked if he would show him his scars. The boy lifted his pant legs. And then, with obvious pride, he said to the reporter, "But look at my arms. I have great scars on my arms, too. I have them because my Mom wouldn't let go."

You and I can identify with that little boy. We have scars, too. Not from an alligator, but the scars of a painful past. Some of those scars are unsightly and have caused us deep regret. But, some wounds, my friend, are because God has refused to let go. In the midst of your struggle. He's been there holding on to you.

The Scripture teaches that God loves you. You are a child of God. He wants to protect you and provide for you in every way. But sometimes we foolishly wade into dangerous situations, not knowing what lies ahead. The swimming hole of life is filled with peril - and we forget that the enemy is waiting to attack. That's when the tug-of-war begins - and if you have the scars of His love on your arms be very, very grateful. He did not and will not ever let you go.


Never judge another person's scars, because you don't know how they were made.

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