Can it really be a year since I wrote in my last blog?
Well, it may not seem like it, but when I check the stats, it has been more than a year since I published anything here. Unbelievable.
I have been writing elsewhere, but this venue has taken a hit since I have been busy with many other things. When I realized this, the hope is to rectify the problem before it continues too much longer.
A lot has changed over the last year for both good and bad. The pandemic continues to impact our activities. It's mostly a nuisance now and does not prevent most functions. Just have to be masked up!
The boys and I are planning a Monster truck rally next weekend. Everybody appears to be in. We just need to decide on the actual date. It turned out to be an evening none of us will ever forget. Ever!
This is one of my favorite pics, but I have a ton more And the memory warms my heart every day.
I love messages of hope. Our hardships give us empathy for others and opportunities to show gratitude. Perhaps the greatest miracle of all is the hope that we have in Jesus Christ.
King Nebuchadnezzar demanded that Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-nego worship the golden image he set up as a god, threatening, “If ye worship not, ye shall be cast … in to the midst of a burning fiery furnace.” Then he taunted them with “Who is that God that shall deliver you out of my hands?”
These three devout disciples said: “If it be so, our God whom we serve is able to deliver us from the burning fiery furnace. … But if not, be it known unto thee, O king, that we will not serve thy gods.”
They possessed the full confidence in God that he could save them, “but if not” they had complete faith in His plan. We have the opportunity to show that kind of faith today as well. Though our circumstances may be vastly different, our response and faith can be identical.
This year and those preceding we have faced various challenges due to the pandemic, but our hope in Jesus Christ is much bigger than the obstacles and hardships of life—much bigger.
My father had a similar experience—in a way—where he was spared as a young man. I have always loved this story, which I asked him to tell me often when I was a boy. And he did.
Dad was a master story-teller. I have many memories of experiences he shared which have helped guide my life. This miraculous experience comes from his journal and to me is further evidence of God’s love for us and the protection granted my father, so he could play a vital role of bringing to earth his children and teaching his posterity, who I believe will usher in the Second Coming of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Thanks Dad for always being an example I can strive for:
There was an experience I had with Mother when I was seventeen. It was when she was working and would go to the merchandise markets in California, Chicago, or New York. The first time I went with her was when I was still in high school. I was out of school, so she invited me to go with her.
She made a reservation for us at the LaSalle Hotel in Chicago. A check was sent and she got back a confirmation. She always had to make reservations early because so many people attended the markets that the hotels would fill up.
We flew to Chicago and drove to the hotel by taxi. We went to the front desk, Mother gave her name and told them we had a reservation and wanted to check in. They told us they couldn’t find it. Mother told them, “That can’t be, because I sent my check and you sent me back a confirmation for a room with two beds.” They looked again but couldn’t find her reservation. In all the years, that never happened to her before or after.
This time it was lost. Mother felt like they just had to make a place for us. But they told us they were completely filled up and didn’t have one room left. The sympathetic desk clerk told us she had a friend who owned some furnished apartments, and that she would probably have an empty one. She called her friend and made arrangements for us to stay there, so we did.
In the middle of the night, we were awakened by lots of fire engines. They came across a bridge over a river and headed down the same street as we were on. We marveled at how many fire engines came one after the other. We wondered where the fire was.
The next morning, the bold newspaper headlines told about how the LaSalle Hotel, where we were supposed to have stayed, had burned. Fifty-two people had died and two hundred were injured. This was one of quite a few times in my life, when the Lord spared me, and I am most grateful.
I have many memories of my father, which I have come to cherish. He was spared so he could share the love and hope in the Savior Jesus Christ with his family. And that he did. The hope and optimism that he frequently exhibited will always be a cherished memory. He passed more than ten years ago, and because of Jesus Christ, I know we will share experiences, happiness, and miracles with each other again.
And that perhaps is the greatest miracle of all.
