Shakerules Diaries

I had gone into a supervisor’s office to talk about a couple of issues that needed to be addressed. She, like all of the men and women in her department, had been through the proverbial ‘ringer.’ The stress was so intense, one could almost taste it.

I had been assisting the department during a crunch period of being very short-handed, and was watching everyone get close to burn-out. When I inquired about her state of mind, she confessed that her home life was almost non-existant, because she was ‘zombie-ing through the evening’. The next words out of her mouth expressed a frustration of my own: “This work is not my gift from God. My family is!”

I had heard of hanging all of one’s problems from the office on a “Trouble Tree” while driving home, to be picked up on the way back to the office in the morning, and for a brief second thought about suggesting that scenario.

But what came out was: “Why don’t we do something different? Let’s have a Blessing Tree. On the way home in the evening, we could pull down a blessing to dwell on a character trait we adore in our spouse, a particular reason we love them, the love they or our children have for us, etc. The list could be endless.

When I tried it on the way home that night, the stress seemed to melt away. There was a ‘spring in my step’ and when I arrived, a smile of joy and contentment was bubbling up from within! For the first time in 2 weeks, I was overjoyed to greet my wife and children!

The Blessing Tree could make a major difference in your evenings, especially after those REALLY tough days.

Throughout our lives we are blessed with spiritual experiences, some of which are very sacred and confidential, and others, although sacred, are meant to be shared.

Last summer my family had a spiritual experience that had a lasting and profound impact on us, one we feel must be shared. It’s a message of love. It’s a message of regaining perspective, and restoring proper balance and renewing priorities. In humility, I pray that I might, in relating this story, give you a gift my little son, Brian, gave our family one summer day last year.

On July 22nd I was enroute to Washington DC for a business trip. It was all so very ordinary, until we landed in Denver for a plane change. As I collected my belongings from the overhead bin, an announcement was made for Mr. Lloyd Glenn to see the United Customer Service Representative immediately. I thought nothing of it until I reached the door to leave the plane and I heard a gentleman asking every male if they were Mr. Glenn. At this point I knew something was wrong and my heart sank. When I got off the plane a solemn-faced young man came toward me and said, “Mr. Glenn, there is an emergency at your home. I do not know what the emergency is, or who is involved, but I will take you to the phone so you can call the hospital.”

My heart was now pounding, but the will to be calm took over. Woodenly, I followed this stranger to the distant telephone where I called the number he gave me for the Mission Hospital. My call was put through to the trauma center where I learned that my three-year-old son had been trapped underneath the automatic garage door for several minutes, and that when my wife had found him he was dead. CPR had been performed by a neighbor, who is a doctor, and the paramedics had continued the treatment as Brian was transported to the hospital.

By the time of my call, Brian was revived and they believed he would live, but they did not know how much damage had been done to his brain, nor to his heart. They explained that the door had completely closed on his little sternum right over his heart. He had been severely crushed. After speaking with the medical staff, my wife sounded worried but not hysterical, and I took comfort in her calmness.

The return flight seemed to last forever, but finally I arrived at the hospital six hours after the garage door had come down. When I walked into the intensive care unit, nothing could have prepared me to see my little son laying so still on a great big bed with tubes and monitors everywhere. He was on a respirator. I glanced at my wife who stood and tried to give me a reassuring smile. It all seemed like a terrible dream. I was filled-in with the ails and given a guarded prognosis. Brian was going to live, and the preliminary tests indicated that his heart was okay, two miracles in and of themselves. But only time would tell if his brain received any damage. Throughout the seemingly endless hours, my wife was calm. She felt that Brian would eventually be all right. I hung on to her words and faith like a lifeline. All that night and the next day Brian remained unconscious. It seemed like forever since I had left for my business trip the day before.

Finally at two o’clock that afternoon, our son regained consciousness and sat up uttering the most beautiful words I have ever heard spoken. He said, “Daddy hold me,” and he reached for me with his little arms. [TEAR BREAK...smile] By the next day he was pronounced as having no neurological or physical deficits, and the story of his miraculous survival spread throughout the hospital. You cannot imagine our gratitude and joy. As we took Brian home we felt a unique reverence for the life and love of our Heavenly Father that comes to those who brush death so closely.

In the days that followed there was a special spirit about our home. Our two older children were much closer to their little brother. My wife and I were much closer to each other, and all of us were very close as a whole family. Life took on a less stressful pace. Perspective seemed to be more focused, and balance much easier to gain and maintain. We felt deeply blessed. Our gratitude was truly profound.

The story is not over (smile)!

Almost a month later to the day of the accident, Brian awoke from his afternoon nap and said, “Sit down, Mommy. I have something to tell you.” At this time in his life, Brian usually spoke in small phrases, so to say a large sentence surprised my wife. She sat down with him on his bed and he began his sacred and remarkable story.

“Do you remember when I got stuck under the garage door? Well, it was so heavy and it hurt really bad. I called to you, but you couldn’t hear me. I started to cry, but then it hurt too bad. And then the ‘birdies’ came.”

“The birdies?” my wife asked puzzled.

“Yes,” he replied. “The birdies made a swooshing sound and flew into the garage. They took care of me.”

“They did?”

“Yes” he said. “One of the birdies came and got you. She came to tell you I got stuck under the door.” A sweet reverent feeling filled the room. The spirit was so strong and yet lighter than air. My wife realized that a three-year-old had no concept of death and spirits, so he was referring to the beings who came to him from beyond as “birdies” because they were up in the air like birds that fly.

“What did the birdies look like?” she asked.

Brian answered, “They were so beautiful. They were dressed in white, all white. Some of them had green and white. But some of them had on just white.”

“Did they say anything?”

“Yes” he answered. “They told me the baby would be alright.”

“The baby?” my wife asked confused.

Brian answered, “The baby laying on the garage floor.” He went on, “You came out and opened the garage door and ran to the baby. You told the baby to stay and not leave.”

My wife nearly collapsed upon hearing this, for she had indeed gone and knelt beside Brian’s body and seeing his crushed chest and recognizable features, knowing he was already dead, she looked up around her and whispered, “Don’t leave us Brian, please stay if you can.” As she listened to Brian telling her the words she had spoken, she realized that the spirit had left his body and was looking down from above on this little lifeless form.

“Then what happened?” she asked.

“We went on a trip,” he said, “far, far away.” He grew agitated trying to say the things he didn’t seem to have the words for. My wife tried to calm and comfort him, and let him know it would be okay. He struggled with wanting to tell something that obviously was very important to him, but finding the words was difficult. “We flew so fast up in the air. They’re so pretty Mommy,” he added. “And there is lots and lots of birdies.”

My wife was stunned. Into her mind the sweet comforting spirit enveloped her more soundly, but with an urgency she had never before known. Brian went on to tell her that the “birdies” had told him that he had to come back and tell everyone about the “birdies”. He said they brought him back to the house and that a big fire truck, and an ambulance were there. A man was bringing the baby out on a white bed and he tried to tell the man that the baby would be okay, but the man couldn’t hear him. He said the birdies told him he had to go with the ambulance, but they would be near him. He said they were so pretty and so peaceful, and he didn’t want to come back. Then the bright light came. He said that the light was so bright and so warm, and he loved the bright light so much. Someone was in the bright light and put their arms around him, and told him, “I love you but you have to go back. You have to play baseball, and tell everyone about the birdies.” Then the person in the bright light kissed him and waved bye-bye. Then woosh, the big sound came and they went into the clouds.

The story went on for an hour. He taught us that “birdies” were always with us, but we don’t see them because we look with our eyes and we don’t hear them because we listen with our ears. But they are always there, you can only see them in here (he put his hand over his heart). They whisper the things to help us to do what is right because they love us so much. Brian continued, stating, “I have a plan, Mommy. You have a plan. Daddy has a plan. Everyone has a plan. We must all live our plan and keep our promises. The birdies help us to do that cause they love us so much.”

In the weeks that followed, he often came to us and told all, or part of it again and again. Always the story remained the same. The details were never changed or out of order. A few times he added further bits of information and clarified the message he had already delivered. It never ceased to amaze us how he could tell such detail and speak beyond his ability when he talked about his birdies. Everywhere he went, he told strangers about the “birdies.” Surprisingly, no one ever looked at him strangely when he did this. Rather, they always got a softened look on their face and smiled. Needless to say, we have not been the same ever since that day, and I pray we never will be.

When Andrew got ready for work one Friday morning, he announced to his wife that he finally decided to ask his boss for a salary raise. All day Andrew felt nervous and apprehensive as he thought about the upcoming showdown. What if Mr. Larchmont refuses to grant his request? Andrew had worked so hard in the last 18 months and landed some great accounts for Braer and Hopkins Advertising Agency. Of course, he deserves a wage increase.

The thought of walking into Larchmont’s office left Andrew weak in the knees. Late in the afternoon he finally mustered up the courage to approach his superior. To his delight and surprise, the ever-frugal Harvey Larchmont agreed to give Andrew a raise!

Andrew arrived home that evening-despite breaking all city and state speed limits-to a beautiful table set with their best china, and candles lit. His wife, Tina had prepared an exquisite meal including his favorite dishes. Immediately he figured someone from the office tipped her off!

Next to his plate Andrew found a beautiful lettered note. It was from his wife. It read: “Congratulations, my love! I knew you’d get the raise! I prepared this dinner to show just how much I love you. I am so proud of your accomplishments!” He read it and stopped to reflect on how sensitive and caring Tina was.

After dinner, Andrew was on his way to the kitchen to get dessert and he observed that a second card had slipped out of Tina’s pocket on to the ceramic floor. He bent forward to retrieve it. He read: “Don’t worry about not getting the raise! You deserve it anyway! You are a wonderful provider and I prepared this dinner to show you just how much I love you even though you did not get the increase.”

Suddenly tears swelled in Andrew’s eyes. Total acceptance! Tina’s support for him was not conditional upon his success at work.

The fear of rejection is often softened when we know someone loves us regardless of our success or failure. In my experience as a pastor, the strongest encouragement I receive is from the love of our Heavenly Father. As long as I am faithful to do my best, God stands behind me no matter what happens. He will not condemn me for my mistakes or failures.

Quite the opposite! He heals my wounds and enables me to make another run for it in the very area where I experience defeat. Another display of the Lord’s acceptance is when He touches me through positive support from my wife.

We can undergo almost any setback or rejection if we know someone else loves us. The first place to start? Begin by discovering the unconditional mercy and compassion of our loving Heavenly Father as shown in the gift of His Son Jesus. “We love because He first loved us” (1John 4:19 NIV).

Somewhere before I’ve heard the saying, “The best gift parents can ever give to their children is to love each other.” I’ve had the pleasure of witnessing the truth of this statement for over 40 years. From as far back as I can remember my Mom and Dad were a team. A great partnership. They were more than just a partnership. It was as if they were one person. They could drive us kids crazy sometimes, because they were always together “against us.” (Okay, so it just seemed like that).

They were really just together in their love “for us”, making sure their brood understood the difference between right and wrong and the foundational principles of honesty, trustworthiness, and respect.) Sure, they argued (although, not that much), but there was never any doubt in our minds that any disagreements would be worked through and resolved. Most of my friends, unfortunately, didn’t feel that same sense of security when their folks argued.

Mom and Dad began their married life poor, but they worked hard and, over the years, built a very successful business. They each had their strengths and weaknesses, but the way they worked together, you never saw the weaknesses, just the strengths. Dad was the outgoing, more public person with whom people met and right away fell in love. Everyone knew Dad! Then, when they got to meet Mom, they felt the exact same way about her as well. Mom, although not at all shy, was more comfortable being the person behind the scenes. More detail oriented, she ran the books and, according to Dad, was the one who “really made the business work.”

I remember one night at dinner asking Dad how much money he made. (Doesn’t every teenager want to know!) Dad simply replied, “I don’t know, Mama handles all that.” I looked at Mom and asked, “Is that true? Dad really doesn’t know how much money he makes?” She replied, “Yes, he never has known, and he never asks.” All three of us kids looked at Dad for an explanation. His approach was a simple one. “If we want to buy something and Mama says we can afford it, we can afford it.”

For my mom and dad, marriage was never a 50/50 arrangement. It was 100/100 – each totally devoted to the happiness of the other. And, because of that, they each received even more joy than they gave. Dad once told me that “true love is when you actually care more about the other person – you love that person more – than you do yourself.”

One of my greatest lessons from Mom was the time I told her, as a boy in my mid-teens, that even after I got married one day, she’d always be my favorite girl. Immediately – in a kind but definitely serious manner – she said, “No I won’t be. When you get married your wife will be the most important person in your life, and that includes Daddy and me.” The biggest lesson about love and marriage that my mom and dad taught us kids was on how to talk “about” your spouse. Have you ever heard husbands and wives, when speaking to others, make unkind remarks about their spouses? It’s one of those things people just seem to do. Sure, they’re “only kidding,” or maybe they are not. But words matter. And words teach, whether positively
and negatively.

You would never hear such a thing from my mom and dad. Dad always speaks of Mom in the most complimentary, glowing terms. As does she of him. This lesson made such an impression on me, I still remember when I was age twelve and we were getting carpet installed in our home. The crew boss was one of those stereotypical beer guzzling, hard-living guys, who would have probably belonged to Ralph Kramden’s Raccoon Lodge from the old Honeymooner’s TV show. For lunch, my folks bought pizza for the crew. Dad went to talk with the boss about the job. I was around the corner listening.

The boss said, “This is an expensive job. Women will really spend your money, won’t they?” Dad responded, “Well, I’ll tell you, when they were right there with you before you had any money, it’s a pleasure to do anything for them you possibly can.” This wasn’t the answer the carpet installer expected to hear. He was looking for negative banter about wives which, to him, was natural. He tried again: “But, gee, they’ll really play off that and spend all they can, won’t they?” Dad replied, as I knew he would, “Hey, when they’re the reason you’re successful, you want them to do the things they enjoy. There’s no greater pleasure.” Strike two. The crew boss tried one more time, “And they’ll take that as far as they can, huh?” Dad responded, “She’s the best thing that ever happened to me. I’d do anything to make her happy.”

I was trying not to laugh. I knew he wanted Dad to give in just a little bit and say, “Yeah, I guess that’s true.” But it wouldn’t happen… not in a million years! Finally, the installer gave up and went back to work, probably shaking his head in bewilderment.

Witnessing my dad in that moment taught me more about loving and respecting your wife than anything he could ever have told me about the subject. Mom and Dad are now retired and enjoying their life together, just hanging out, reading, and visiting their children and grandchildren. They recently celebrated their 43rd wedding anniversary. They still hold hands, and they are more in love than ever. Throughout the years, whenever Mom would remind me that I should be looking to get married, I’d say, “Ma, I have plenty of time.” She’d jokingly reply that I don’t have “that” much time. My Dad would then look at me in that wisdom-filled, city streets bred way of his and say, “Hey, you take all the time you need. If you marry someone just half the woman your mother is, you’ll have a great life.”

I should only be so lucky.

“Linda, if beating yourself up were an Olympic sport, you’d win a gold medal!”

Annabel, my close friend, stunned me with that blunt observation after I told her how I had mishandled a situation with a student in a third-grade class where I was substituting. “I should never have let him go to the boy’s room without a pass! It was my fault he got into trouble with the hall monitor! I’m so stupid!”

My friend burst out laughing, and then made her “Olympic” comment. After a brief period of reflection I had to admit that she was right. I did put myself down an awful lot. Why, just during the previous day I had called myself “a slob” for having some papers spread out on my desk, “ugly” when I left the house without makeup and “an idiot” when I left the house for an emergency substitute job without my emergency lesson plan.

In a more reflective tone, Annabel said, “I once took a workshop at church where the woman in charge had us list all the mean things we say about ourselves.”

“How many did you have on your list?” I asked.

“Fifteen,” she confessed. “But then the teacher said, ‘Now turn to the person next to you and say all the items on your list as if you were speaking to that person!’ ”

My jaw dropped. “What did you do?”

“Nothing. Nobody did. We all just sat there, until I said, ‘I could never say these things to anyone else!’

“And our teacher replied, ‘Well, if you can’t say them to anyone else, then don’t ever say them to yourself!’ ”

My friend had a point. I would never insult a child of God—and I’m God’s child, too!

God, today let me be as kind to myself as I would be to another of Your children.

You my friend
You don’t always show it,
but I know that you care.

You My friend
If I’d ever need you,
I know you’d be there.

You I’m glad you’re my friend.
Your smile makes me smile.
Your pain makes me hurt.

You My friend
I want you to know:
If you need me–I’m there.
make you happy, make you laugh.

You My friend
Sometimes you make me mad,
but I can’t stay mad.

You My friend
Sometimes I want to get away from you.
And sometimes there’s nothing I want more than:
to talk to you, to tell you about my day,
to hear about yours, to laugh with you,
to tease you, to share an inside joke,
that no one else would get,
to argue with you,
but know we’re just kidding..

You My friend
Do you remember the time when…?
There are so many times.

You My friend
Don’t ever lose the wonderful person you are.
Stay happy. Stay healthy. Stay you.

You My friend
I’ll never stop being your friend.
Don’t ever stop being mine.

You My friend
Just wanted to tell you:
I care.

It is by chance we met,
by choice we became friends.
Friendship is a strange thing—
we find ourselves telling each other
the deepest details of our lives,
things we don’t even share
with our families who raised us.
But what is a friend?
A confidant? A lover?
A fellow email junkie?
A shoulder to cry on?
An ear to listen?
A heart to feel?…
A friend is all these things…
and more.
No matter where we met,
I call you friend.
A word so small yet so large in feeling,
a word filled with emotion.

It is true great things
come in small packages.
Once the package of friendship
has been opened,
it can never be closed.
It is a constant book always written
waiting to be read and enjoyed.
We may have our disagreements,
we may argue,
we may concern one another,
friendship is a unique bond
that lasts through it all.

A part of me is put into my friends,
some it is my humor,
some it is my listening ear,
some it is real life experiences,
some it is my romanticism
but with all, it is friendship.

Friendships forged are a construct stronger
than steel built as a foundation,
necessary for life and necessary for love.
Friends—-you and me
You brought another friend
and then there were 3.
We started our group
Our circle of friends
and like that circle
There is no beginning or end…

A simple friend, when visiting, acts like a guest.
A real friend opens your refrigerator and helps himself
(and doesn’t feel even the least bit weird shutting your
Coke/Pepsi drawer with his foot!)

A simple friend has never seen you cry.
A real friend has shoulders soggy from your tears.

A simple friend doesn’t know your parents’ first names.
A real friend has their phone numbers in his address book.

A simple friend brings a bottle of wine to your party.
A real friend comes early to help you cook
and stays late to help you clean.

A simple friend hates it when you call
after they’ve gone to bed.
A real friend asks you why you took so long to call.

A simple friend seeks to talk with you
about your problems.
A real friend seeks to help you with your problems.

A simple friend wonders about your romantic history.
A real friend could blackmail you with it.

A simple friend thinks the friendship is over
when you have an argument.
A real friend calls you after you had a fight.

A simple friend expects you to always be there for them.
A real friend expects to always be there for you!

Friendship is a Golden Chain,
The links are friends so dear,
And like a rare and precious jewel
It’s treasured more each year…

It’s clasped together firmly
With a love that’s deep and true,
And it’s rich with happy memories
and fond recollections, too…

Time can’t destroy its beauty
For, as long as memory lives,
Years can’t erase the pleasure
That the joy of friendship gives…

For friendship is a priceless gift
That can’t be bought or sold,
But to have an understanding friend
Is worth far more than gold…

And the Golden Chain of Friendship
Is a strong and blessed tie
Binding kindred hearts together
As the years go passing by.

~Helen Steiner Rice

We sit and we type and we stare at our screens,
We can’t help but wonder what all of this means.
With mouse in hand …we roam through this maze,
On an infinite search…lost in a daze.

We chat with each other, we type all our woes
At times we’ll band together to gang up on our foes.
We wait for somebody, to type out our name
We want recognition, but it is always the same.

Soon friendships are formed – but – why we don’t know,
But some of these friendships, will flourish and grow.
We give kisses and hugs, and sometimes we’ll flirt,
In IMs we chat deeply, and reveal why we hurt.

Why is it on screen, we are so easily bold,
Telling our secrets, that have never been told.
The answer is simple, it is as clear as a bell,
We all have our problems, and need someone to tell.

We can’t tell real people, but tell someone we must
So we turn to our ‘puters …and to those we can trust.
Even though it sounds crazy…the truth still remains,
Most of my “friends” have no faces…and odd little names.

~Rusty Black, ©1996

If your bad habit screams, “Me First,” Break it.
If your spirit cries with thirst, Slake it.
If for company you yearn
And someone else’s trust you earn,
When friendship’s offered in return, Take it!

Just place your hand in his or hers; Grip it.
If imagined slight occurs, Skip it.
See what’s needed, then give more.
And if a weed springs up, before
It chokes the path to your friend’s door, Snip it!

If gratitude or praise is due, Heap it.
If a secret’s shared with you, Keep it.
When a seed has taken root,
Beside your friend stand resolute,
And when the full-grown tree bears fruit, Reap it!

~Mary Sullivan Georgetown, TX, USA

When you get what you want in your struggle for pelf,
And the world makes you King for a day,
Then go to the mirror and look at yourself,
And see what that guy has to say.

For it isn’t your Father, or Mother, or Wife,
Who judgment upon you must pass.
The feller whose verdict counts most in your life
Is the guy staring back from the glass.

He’s the feller to please, never mind all the rest,
For he’s with you clear up to the end,
And you’ve passed your most dangerous, difficult test
If the guy in the glass is your friend.

You may be like Jack Horner and “chisel” a plum,
And think you’re a wonderful guy,
But the man in the glass says you’re only a bum
If you can’t look him straight in the eye.

You can fool the whole world down the pathway of years,
And get pats on the back as you pass,
But your final reward will be heartaches and tears
If you’ve cheated the guy in the glass.

~Dale Wimbrow, © 1934

I never came to you, my friend,
and went away without
some new enrichment of the heart;
More faith and less of doubt,
more courage in the days ahead.
And often in great need coming to you,
I went away comforted indeed.
How can I find the shining word,
the glowing phrase that tells all that
your love has meant to me,
all that your friendship spells?
There is no word, no phrase for
you on whom I so depend.
All I can say to you is this,
God bless you precious friend.

-Grace Noll Crowell

There’s a miracle of Friendship
that dwells within the heart,
And you don’t know how it happens
or where it gets its start…
But the happiness it brings you
always gives a special lift,
And you realize that Friendship
Is God’s most perfect gift.

-Jean Kyler McManus

People need people and friends need friends
And we all need love for a full life depends
Not on vast riches or great acclaim,
Not on success or on worldly fame,
But just in knowing that someone cares
And holds us close in their thoughts and prayers-
For only the knowledge that we’re understood
Makes everyday living feel wonderfully good,
And we rob ourselves of life’s greatest need
When we “lock up our hearts” and fail to heed
The outstretched hand reaching to find
A kindred spirit whose heart and mind
Are lonely and longing to somehow share
Our joys and sorrows and to make us aware
That life’s completeness and richness depends
On the things we share with our loved ones and friends.

-Helen Steiner Rice