Yesterday, I talked by telephone with a long-term friend that I've known for many years. My friend lives in Colorado and works in the high-tech industry. Following the crash of my computer twenty something years ago, he was able to recover six-years of data that I feared was forever gone.
Had my friend not been able to resurrect the files, many of my memories would have been forever forgotten. Truth be told, their recovered value was mostly limited to my own enjoyment, but I spent hours refreshing my memory once the files were recovered and mailed back to me on two discs.
One of the files was labeled, "Random Thoughts." Some of you are thinking that most of my thoughts are random and far too often are not closely linked together. At any rate, the file contains references to common place, true life experiences and my subsequent reflections related to that experience or event.
It was from that file that much of my book "More Than Enough" came to fruition. Without the resourcefulness of my friend, the stories would have been forever buried in the resources of my head.
From the random thoughts file, I reclaimed this reflection from the Generals post-surgery hospital stay at St. David's Hospital. At the time, the chapel at St. David's hospital had a wall of beautiful stained-glass windows. According to a plaque hanging next to the windows, the windows were made possible through the gifts of six benefactors.
Five of the benefactors either donated resources in memory of someone or in honor of someone named. Sometimes there was a combination of the two; a gift honoring someone, and also in memory of another. The windows added ambience to the atmosphere of the small chapel area.
I wish I had of had the presence of mind to take pictures of the windows, but I did not. The picture I included for this blog is a stained-glass window in our church. It was provided in honor of the General and me years ago.
During my initial brief visit to the chapel at St. David's, I couldn't help but think that the benefactors who made the windows possible certainly paid a nice tribute to their loved ones. At the same time, they helped create an environment of serenity, peace and expectation as visitors entered the small, dedicated area to pray and worship.
In looking over the plaque naming those who had graciously made the stained-glass windows possible, I was intrigued by the designation of the sixth benefactor. It stated simply: "In honor of those who have entered frightened and left in peace."
On a subsequent visit to that small, serene chapel setting where I went for a few moments of quiet, meditation and prayer, I once again thought about the tribute to "those who have entered frightened and left in peace." It then occurred to me that the tribute may have absolutely no relationship to the flow of patients and visitors through St. David's Hospital.
The tribute may more succinctly relate to a much smaller number. It may specifically relate to those who entered the small chapel area seeking the solace of God. With that definition in mind, the tribute became even more poignant: "In honor of those who have entered frightened and left in peace."
During my first visit to the hospital chapel area, I noticed an open book of what appeared to be blank pages. The pages were entitled Memorial Book. With only a passing thought, I noticed the book and wondered if anyone ever paused long enough to chronicle their reflections.
As I subsequently noticed the book a second time on a subsequent visit, I saw that someone had left handwritten comments. Being curious, while at the same time wanting to respect privacy, I debated the ethics of reading what had been written. Ultimately, curiosity won out as I convinced myself that anything left handwritten in an open book was for public viewing.
The first set of handwritten notes chronicled a prayer of thanksgiving. It stated something closely akin to: "Thank you Lord for your loving care, for seeing me through surgery and for sparing my life. Thank you for granting me favor and giving me eternal life through your Son Jesus Christ. For it is in Him that I find ultimate healing."
I read just enough to whet my appetite. Turning back a page, the writer expressed a desperate plea for God's intervention and grace. The expressed need was not medical, but emotional and relational. It was something to the effect: "Help me move forward with my life. I now realize that my marriage is over, and in reality, has been for several years. I struggle with fears of loneliness and abandonment, but I can't keep going as I have been. I am all alone apart from you. Help me to be trusting. Strengthen our relationship."
In a quick overview of six or seven written prayers, I was startled to discover that the theme was not primarily an expression of medical needs. More often, the requested healing solicited by those expressing their need related to relationships, not health.
It occurred to me that the Psalms are filled with tangible examples from David's life where he sought solace from God during difficulty and despair. Without fail, he always emerged from those encounters with a renewed spirit and the resourcefulness to negotiate life. Perhaps the key is simply in the seeking.
All My Best!
Don
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