I Know Just How They Felt

I read this article online last night -- maybe you saw it posted on MSN's homepage. It's about a group of women in southwest England who attended a presentation on piracy and decided to go in style. They all dressed up as pirates, decked out in eye patches, pirate hats, and rubber daggers. It wasn't long after the speaker, Colin Darch, began his presentation that they realized his talk was about his 47-day ordeal at the hands of Somali pirates!

Needless to say, the women were embarrassed, yet they recovered and listened with rapt attention to his story. They even asked him to judge their costumes. He chose the woman with the toy parrot, "although, to be honest," he said, "it looked more like a fluffy chick."

Reading the story took my breath away. It may seem like an over-reaction, but I've got to tell you the truth: I know how those women felt! But my outfit wasn't that of a pirate. I was dressed as a pumpkin, a huge orange pumpkin!

In my junior and senior years of college I was a part of the on-campus women's service organization. We had monthly meetings where we learned about service opportunities, reported on events of the month before, and occasionally had a guest speaker. In my senior year, the October meeting fell precisely on Halloween evening.

Mom had sent me a Halloween care package that year, filled with candy and goodies, and a wearable pumpkin. Do you remember those party decorations that were made of honeycomb tissue paper? They came folded flat, but as you opened them up they turned into a centerpiece for the table. Well, that's what Mom sent me. Only this one was designed to fit around you, covering you from your shoulders to somewhere below the waist. (Imagine the pumpkin below being large enough to fit over an adult's torso.)

I loved it! So much so, in fact, that I decided to wear it to the meeting that night.

I slipped the pumpkin on over my lovely purple polyester pant suit and walked gingerly down the hall. I hadn't considered how I would navigate the steps that would take me to the floor below where the meeting was being held, but slowly, carefully, I maneuvered my way down the stairs.

Most of the women in the group, I learned that night, were too sophisticated to appreciate my outfit. They did not comment, they didn't smile, they didn't acknowledge me at all. Many of them wore their uniforms to the meeting -- a gold blazer over a black dress -- but there was not one other person in a costume.

I found a seat and somehow managed to bend in the right places to sit.

The meeting began. I endured the opening and the business details. And then the guest speaker began to share. She told about her three beautiful children and how, one by one, they had suffered with a terrible hereditary disease and eventually died.

It's a wonder my paper pumpkin didn't combust, ignited by a spark from my burning face!

Steve and Sue Robinson

Three or four years ago I came across an announcement about a new support group for parents of special needs kids and called the first person on the contact list. Her name was Sue Robinson; she told me she had recently retired from the school district as a school psychologist and had joined with other women from her church to form this group. She answered all my questions and we chatted far afield for about 45 minutes. Then one of us mentioned Seattle Pacific University. “Oh, did you go there?” “Yes, back while it was still a college!” “So did I. When were you there?” “I was a transfer student in 1969. I lived in the dorm for a year and then got married,” said Sue. “That's when I was there! I lived in Marston that year. How about you?” You guessed it – Sue and I were on the same floor!

The more we talked the more we remembered. Then she said, “I think you attended my wedding!” I was a bit hazy about that detail, but later she looked at her guest book and found my name.

That was the summer of 1970. After summer jobs ended, four of us piled into a VW bug and set off for a week. One of our stops was Steve and Susie’s wedding in Vista, California.

Just a couple of weeks ago I found a small Disneyland bag with more evidence that I had attended their wedding – a tiny dove, a small gold paper bell, and a barely recognizable frosting flower, my souvenirs from their wedding cake! (What was I thinking??)

Married now almost 40 years, Steve and Sue have always been helpers. Their working years were dedicated to helping through education and law enforcement. They also like adventure. Two years ago they were set to take a trip around the US in their motor home, but went to California instead, where they could help Sue’s mom through a transition period of her life. They contacted a Christian camp not far from her mom’s and learned that they could park their trailer on the grounds and volunteer their time working with another group of people in transition – men and women in a Christian drug and alcohol rehab, where they've been for the past two years. At last they'll take that cross-country trip in March.

They don't fool me when they say the'll be home in June, though. I suspect that along the way they will find some very worthy project to pour their lives into and will roll up their sleeves and volunteer for a time. I may have to settle for an occasional e-mail from a very dear friend who keeps coming popping up in my life.

Hiding God's Word in our Hearts

In my first quarter of college, my professor for Introduction to the English Bible told us we'd be going through the Bible three times during the ten week course. The prospect seemed formidable, and I told my granddad about my concern. "Oh, that's easy enough," he said. "Just read through it and say each word three times. Like this: In, in, in, the, the, the, beginning, beginning, beginning..." It turned out to be one of my favorite classes during my college days, as the Bible came alive for me through our study.

Each day as Dr Wilson entered the classroom he would quote a few verses of the book of James. We'd repeat it several times until we had memorized it. The next day we would review what we'd learned the day before and he'd add a few more verses. By the end of the quarter we could quote most of the book of James.

Something happens to you when you memorize scripture. When you thoughtfully take God's Word into your life and mind, it begins to transform you. The Holy Spirit applies the truth of the Word to your life, showing you God's greatness, giving your understanding, pointing out areas of need in your own life. We are told in Psalm 119:11 that hiding God's Word in our hearts helps us not to give in to sin.

When we memorize the Bible we are filling up a well from which the Spirit of God can draw when we find ourselves in need. But He can only draw from our well what we have put into it.

Memorize God's Word. Meditate on it -- that is, think about it, ponder it, explore how it applies to your own life. Because the Word of God is living and active (Hebrews 4:12) it has the power to impact your life like no other book.

Are you facing overwhelming circumstances? 2 Chronicles 20:12 shows us how to respond. "For we have no power to face this vast army that is attacking us. We do not know what to do, but our eyes are upon you."

Needing direction? "I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you and watch over you" (Psalm 32:8).

Anxious? "Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you" (1 Peter 5:7).

Discouraged because of life's difficulties? Paul tells us in 2 Corinthians 4:17 and 18, "For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal."

If God's Word is living in you, He can remind you of it just when you need it.