Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Thursday, June 23, 2011
But the hope of the whole world rests
On the shoulders of a homeless man
You had the shoulders of a homeless man
And the world can't stand what it can't own
And it can't own You
'Cause You did not have a home"
Friday, June 17, 2011
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Thursday, June 2, 2011
I life lesson in Faith and the start of a life long journey. I hope to share more of this story, and many other.
What was Scotland
I went to scotland when I was 18. It’s hard to believe that my parents actually let me go, now looking back and having children of my own. I was going to a strange country, with very few details in place. Things like who was going to pick me up at the airport, what was to be expected of me, who was I staying with, all those important things that reassure parents that their child will be safe.
But we knew I needed to go, so off I went, by myself, on a whirl wind adventure that would ultimately end up shaping my life.
The flight was an adventure. I sat down in my seat nervous as any first time flyer is, and let my head rest for a moment. I could sense my seat mate watching me, and as I sat there with my eyes closed, head back, he introduced himself. His name was Guy. He made small talk for a while, asking if it was my first time flying, explaining the sensation of take off. The soothing sound of his voice captured my mind until finally I could calm my nerves and open my eyes. He was a tall man, I could tell from his posture. Dark hair, and a wonderfully warm smile that instantly made me relax.
The flight was nothing eventful. Guy let me play with his Palm Pilot, and try his wine. Flying wasn’t so bad after all.
We arrived in London Heathrow airport an hour later then scheduled, and I said my fair wells to the team of Interns that were staying in London, as well as a quick farewell to Guy. As I looked at my ticket, I realized that instead of having an hour and a half to catch my connecting flight, I now only had a half hour. Guy had told me that the bus ride between terminals takes a half hour. I could feel the panic rising. I had no idea where to go, so I just stood still. Suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder! I turned to face Guy. He said that he had miss read his ticket and that he was headed to the same terminal as I was. I looked in his eyes, and he said “follow me”. Away we went, down stairs, through hall ways, me completely lost, Guy seemingly knowing where he was going. This stranger, I trusted.
The airport was busy, security having doubled since the terrorist attack on September 11, 2001. People were lined up 2 rows thick, and as we came out of the hall ways, and to the clearing above the stairs, the view below was the mass of people waiting to get onto the connecting bus, the one that would get me to where I needed to go. My heart sank. How was I going to get on that bus?
Suddenly I was moving again. The journey down those stairs is a blur, but somehow Guy lead me down, through the mess of people, and before I knew it I was being pushed onto that bus, with standing room only, with enough time to turn and watch the doors close, and see Guy waving on the platform as the bus was put into gear. That half hour ride seemed like an eternity, leaving time and space for my mind to wander. How did I get on that bus? A question that still boggles my mind to this day.
We arrived at the terminal and I exited with a new sense of panic. There was so many line ups, and so many people. Where was I suppose to go? I was already very late for my connecting flight, and I had this dreaded feeling that I was going to miss it if I didn’t hurry. But where do I go?
And again, there was the hand on my shoulder, and as I turned, I looked up into the face of Guy. I was stunned. “How do you get here” I asked him. He explained that he had managed to get on the bus through the other door. I didn’t know what to say, for I had seen him waving goodbye, and there was no more room on that bus.
No time to think about that know tho, for we were off again, racing through hall ways, getting through impossible lines, being cleared for customs, and finally, reaching the gates. I turned to say thank you, but I could only catch a glimpse of Guy’s hand waving above the crowd. I knew I would never see him again.
I ran as fast as I could towards my gate, worried, excited, full of wonder at what had happened. I was met with excited greeting for the air stewards, as they exclaimed that they were just about to close the gate, and I had made it just in time! I made my way to my seat, flopped myself down, and wept.
I opened up my bible, to no where in particular, and started reading.
“Answer me when I call, O God who declares me innocent. Take away my distress. Have mercy on me, and hear my prayers.........I will lie down in peace and sleep, for you alone, O Lord, will keep me safe.”
-Psalm 6:1, 8
Indescribable peace flooded my body, taking over muscles, drying tears.
I was safe, for God had been walking with me. It was God who got me on that bus, it was him who rushed me to my gate. I will never know who this man name Guy was, or if he even existed in the first place. But regardless, human or saint, he was my angel that day.
sharing with Imperfect Prose