Coulda' Been a Life Changer

ARMED ROBBERY became personal to me about 50 years ago. Looking back, this true story could have taken my life in a completely different direction. 

For the middle of May it was an uncomfortably hot evening in York, PA. I was studying for my final class at "The Academy of Arts" in a small third floor apartment with a fellow student named Bob, who became very well known in the art community in the Southwest.

Anyway, we had no air conditioning, so our street-side windows were wide open. At about 10 pm our studying was interrupted by the sound of a car screeching to a stop.  We looked out the front windows and saw a car stopped sideways in the middle of Beaver street. What we didn't know from our third floor location was that the driver ran from his car into the first floor of our apartment building, through a hallway and straight out the back door.  

Distant sirens became louder and in less than two minutes four police cruisers surrounded the guy's car. From our third floor window it was a scene straight out of a TV show.  It's dark, sirens and scanners are blasting, and cops with flashlights are searching for their suspect.  A neighbor across the street told the cops that the driver of the car ran into our building so they all now converge just below us.  From our windows we are watching this small army.  That is, until one cop points his flashlight straight up in the air.  He sees my friend, shouts "halt" and orders him to come down the three flights of steps to the front door.

With guns pulled the cops climb the steps and proceed to ransack our apartment; pulling off mattresses, throwing clothes from dressers and pulling books from shelves.  We had no idea what they were looking for, but I recall thinking that this excitement was much better than studying.  Both my friend and I were taken down the steps and forced up against the outside of our apartment building, handcuffed and each taken in a separate cruiser to the York, PA police station. 

When we first got to the station, a detective encouraged my friend and I to come clean. He said they had a witness and escorted us to an room with a one-way mirror.  Behind the mirror was an elderly lady who witnessed an armed robbery at a convenience store on Queen Street.  We stood there for a few minutes and were then escorted back to the detective who said she identified us as the robbers. We were given the option to make a phone call. 

Now I'm thinking that quiet studying in a hot apartment isn't all that bad.  And just as I decided to call my dad we were told to go back to the room with the one-way mirror.  Turns out the convenience store clerk had been patched up at York Hospital - after being pistol whipped and beaten by the robber. The cops brought him to the station and when he saw us, he said he had no idea who we were, but was sure neither of us were the suspect.  Two weeks later we read in the York Dispatch that the police caught the suspect in Florida.

One benefit of getting older is perspective.  Had the clerk died, this evening incident "coulda' been a life changer". Who knows? I could have landed in the York County Prison and my wife, three kids and 14 grandkids wouldn't be part of our life today. 

TWENTY SEVEN YEARS AGO TODAY

1995 was a good year. 

It's been almost 30 years since we first visited a church called Stillmeadow and at that time we had no idea how much this would impact our lives. Our journey at Stillmeadow started with four seemingly insignificant events. A song, a bus, a book, and a special invitation. 

   A SONG    

During one of our early visits, a lady named Sue sang a song called  "The Brush"  The words describe how God wants to paint a beautiful picture of our lives, but we keep taking the brush from Him.  Problem is, on our own we make a mess of our painting. 

On that day it seemed like God took the brush we offered and started painting our lives all over again. After 27 years at Stillmeadow, to this day I will never forget the song called "The Brush". Thank you, Sue Cox!

   A BUS    

We liked the church but my wife and I didn't know anyone.  On our first visit we heard about an upcoming men's retreat, however this was out of my comfort zone.  But then I remembered. I no longer control my brush.  

The following Friday night I found an empty seat on the retreat bus, all the time thinking "Am I nuts?  What am I doing here?"  In less than two minutes a guy named Steve sat down next to me, asked my name and proceeded not only to be my new friend on the bus, but for the entire weekend. A new painting was begun. 

We broke into small groups at the retreat - and the group I was part of has continued to meet weekly ever since!

Thinking back, had I not given up my brush, I would have never been found at a men's retreat, or part of a weekly group that has shaped my life ever since.  And as I look back I am convinced that Steve was making himself available to be part of God's plan for my life. 

The theme of our retreat in 1995 was "Change my Heart".  God knew if I kept my brush, I would continue to mess up - not just my life, but our (now 52 year) marriage, our incredible 3 kids and our 14 grandkids. Thank you, Steve Voorhees!


   A BOOK    

A few weeks after we started attending Stillmeadow the Senior Pastor took the time to take me to his library to suggest I read the book "Abba's Child".  Written by Brennan Manning, the book describes how many of us live our lives as an impostor, hiding who we really are. God wasn't interested in creating a fake painting and this book helped me realize it's OK with Him (and others) for me to just to be me.  

This book had a profound impact on my life when I began to understand statements like “Define yourself radically as one beloved by God. This is the true self. Every other identity is illusion.”  

Since that time I have purchased almost all of Brennan's books, enjoyed a telephone conversation with him and have spent time on one of his retreats.  Brennan is gone now, but I look forward to spending some quality time with him again soon. Thank you, Bud Reedy for pointing me to a book that "Changed My Heart" so my painting would be authentic. 


   AN INVITATION    

Dave Tharp was the Public Worship Pastor at Stillmeadow in 1995.  Beyond his gifts of leadership in worship and music, he had a special gift of encouragement, both to me and my wife.  I still have his note thanking me for playing saxophone in the orchestra, even though I hadn't played since high school.  Sometimes I would miss coming in at the right place when playing a song. Dave would look at me, smile, and continue to direct the orchestra. 

I recall a thank you note from Dave pasted on top of some music help books.  He took the time to purchase these books at a local music store - just for me.  Under his direction, the orchestra was one of the highlights of my week.  I don't recall everything he did in worship, but when I think of Dave I get a feeling that he was someone who accepted me for who I was, and he encouraged me to strive for excellence.  

I recently found one of many notes he gave my wife before she joined the choir. The note read, "Jody, we have a seat reserved for you with the Celebration Singers"  Because of his encouragement, not only did she finally join the choir, she made friendships that have lasted to this day. Thank you, Dave Tharp!  

Today I really value the entire Stillmeadow community.  Reflecting back over the last 27 years, I am amazed at how God was at work in our lives.  I don't believe it was a coincidence that Sue, Steve, Bud and Dave either sang, said or did the very thing we needed at the perfect time.  And now God continues to paint our canvas - as we live ready for whatever comes next. 

Oh, one more thing. During the 1990's, I taught a junior high class at Stillmeadow. Can't remember which kid drew this, but for those that are part of the church, don't you think the kid did a great job of capturing Pastor Bud's personality?

REACH OUT, I'LL BE THERE

The year was 1967.  I parked my car on Third Street in Harrisburg and started the long walk to my apartment. I had just spent $2 dollars on gas, and even though a gallon of gas was thirty-five cents back then, my 1963 Dodge always seemed to be on empty.

And during this time my life was on empty too. I had no idea why I was on this earth or what in the world I was going to do with my life. My rent was due and my car payment was late. As strange as it sounds, a Motown song played a role in turning my life around on that day.

In the late '60's I carried a transistor radio wherever I went and during my walk a popular song called "Reach Out, I'll Be There" started to play. The song seemed eerily spiritual, almost like it was a message, not from a guy to a girl, but from God directly to me. It remains one of the times in my life when I categorically claim a special moment with God. Here are some of the words I remember..... 

"Now, if you feel that you can't go on, and all your hope is gone. Your life is filled with much confusion, and happiness is just an illusion. And your world is tumblin' down. When you feel lost and about to give up, And your best just ain't good enough - I'll be there, to love and shelter you, I'll be there, Reach out to me."  

Well, on that day I reached out and made some important decisions about my relationship with God. And in a matter of months things started to make sense. I chose to be re-united with the church and met a special girl that I ended up marrying.

Now you could say that I'm making more of the song than I should, but almost 60 years have passed since that day, and I am more convinced than ever that it was a critical, pivotal point in my life. 

I call it my "MOTOWN MOMENT"

Important Memorial

May 11, 2017 - 50 year old altar.

A while back during a church small group meeting led by my friend Jeff Callander, it was  suggested that each man reflect on an important "memorial" in their life. (something that was a life "game changer"). 

The first thing that came to mind was an altar at the Assembly of God church in Harrisburg, PA. It was at that altar fifty years ago that I re-dedicated my life to God. The image of the altar seemed to stay with me - so I decided to contact the church. 

When I called, the receptionist answered "Hello, this is "Memorial" Church". (Turns out the church is now called Memorial Baptist Church). I asked if it would be OK to visit sometime, to see the altar where my life was changed. She said, "Of course you may visit!"

Our mom with her special new friends

So, my (then 95 year old) Mom asked if she could accompany me to the church. When we walked into the sanctuary it was as if nothing had been moved for half a century. Same everything. I kneeled at the exact same altar as I did 50 years ago and I thanked God for His grace those many years ago. I made a new commitment to live the rest of my life for Him. 

A few people from the church surrounded Mom and I and the pastor led in prayer. It was a special, sacred visit. They told us that the church was about to be completely renovated and had we not visited on that day, we may have not seen the original altar. God is good.

INSTANT CONNECTION

During a light rain shower the other day, I was getting an umbrella out of my truck when I heard a voice. I looked across our street and there was a stranger walking his dog and singing "I need Thee, Oh I need Thee." After a brief pause, I hollered across the street, "I need Him too!". 

The guy smiled, looked at me and without saying a word, communicated a spiritual bond that we both value more than life. It's hard to explain, but in an instant a complete stranger and I were connected in a deep way.

FRIGGATRISKAIDEKAPHOBIA

Took this picture of a tree at Hawk Lake in York PA (eye-ball added). The title of this post is actually a word. It describes someone who is afraid of Friday the 13th. And there are nearly 20 million people walking around in fear today.

Actually, this is either the unluckiest, or luckiest, day, depending on how different people view it. It’s not certain where this superstition comes from, but it might go back to Biblical times. Since ancient time, both the number 13 and Friday have been know for misfortune and bad luck. By some.

Part of the reason 13 got a bad rap is because it comes after 12, which is a number of “completeness.” For example: 12 months in a year, 12 hours in a clock, 12 tribes of Israel, 12 days of Christmas, 12 Apostles of Jesus and 12 eggs in a dozen.

Many hospitals don’t have a room number with 13 in it, nor do they have a 13th floor. The same thing goes for tall buildings. Normally the 13th floor is skipped. Some airlines omit Gate 13. There is at least one Friday the 13th in every year, and at the most there are three, as was the case for 2015. 

Not everyone fears this day, in fact, some are convinced this is one of their luckiest days in the year. Read this tweet from Taylor Swift. “I was born on the 13th. I turned 13 on Friday the 13th. My first album went gold in 13 weeks. My first #1 song had a 13-second intro, every time I’ve won an award I’ve been seated in either the 13th seat, the 13th row, the 13th section or row M, which is the 13th letter. “Whenever a 13 comes up in my life, it’s a good thing.”

Sounds like she's conquered the FRIGGATRISKAIDEKAPHOBIA thing.

INSPIRED AT MYSTIC, NIGHTMARE ON BLOCK ISLAND

What is Mystic Seaport?  Ask three people and chances are you’ll get three very different answers. To some, it’s a family destination offering all kinds of fun activities. To others, it’s a maritime museum. And to still others, it’s a maritime research center. In fact, it’s all three – located within 19 acres on the banks of Connecticut’s Mystic River. 

Our family has vacationed twice in this town where we have made special memories.  Each time we were there it turned out to be a quintessential New England experience.  Many people don't realize that Mystic is only 6 hours from Central PA.  

Early in the morning I really enjoyed sitting on the dock watching the ships pass through canals which connect upscale townhouses to the ocean.  Except for the seagulls, it was just me and my friend. (Starbucks Coffee)  The water level is low in the canal, so you can see everything in each boat as they slowly pass by the dock.  I was fishing but didn't catch anything - since I was so fascinated with each boat as it headed for the ocean.  

There were plenty of shops for my wife and we even discovered an old used book store with treasures we still enjoy to this day.  If you are traveling east on Rt.95 remember this special place to visit.  Turn left on Rt. 27.  

NIGHTMARE ON BLOCK ISLAND - Our experience about 2 hours down the road from Mystic was one we would like to forget.  We traveled to Rhode Island and decided to take a ferry to Block Island.  Block Island has been called the "Bermuda of the North," but we had a bad experience getting to the island. 

It was a windy day and the waves were unusually high during the entire ferry ride.  About 10 minutes into our trip our daughter turned white.  My wife was fine for a while but soon turned white as well.  I grabbed some bags which filled quickly from what they had eaten earlier that day.  Even though it was only 13 miles from the shore to the island, it seemed like it took days to arrive.  The first thing my wife said when she got off the ferry was "I am NOT going back on that boat"  Did I mention we were on a island?

Now I had a problem.  I checked our options and was told the only alternative was a tiny plane at an airport in the middle of the island.  I called and got reservations for the next plane and arranged for transportation to the airport for my wife and daughter.  Then I took the next ferry back to the shore and drove until I found the airport where they would land.  (This area between Block Island and the Rhode Island shore was where John Kennedy and his wife crashed their plane.) 

We finally were re-united but never really had an opportunity to check out the island.  I thought it would be interesting to do this a few years later, but my wife was clear I would be checking out the island on my own.