Author: allanmusterer@sbcglobal.net

As a young boy during my third and fourth years, I spent a lot of play time with my cousin Ron. We were born the same day, February 20, 1943 and it added to our close relationship as children.

Ron & Allan,  June 16, 1945

My Aunt Frieda was my mother’s eldest sister and my cousin Ron’s fraternal grandmother. Each month she took us boys with her on a special adventurous journey when she had to pay her mortgage at a bank a few towns away.

                               Aunt Frieda in front of her home in the 1940’s

Aunt Frieda walked the few blocks to where we lived when she had an adventure planned for us boys. We returned to her house before our journey to give us a chance to explore their yard. The house she lived in was an adventure unto itself. Her husband, my Uncle Albin, had a virtual miniature farm on their small suburban lot. This was a real fascination for Ron and me. First there was the goldfish pond filled with goldfish eager to be fed. When we threw a few bread crumbs into the pond there was an ensuing feeding frenzy as the goldfish rose to the surface to devour the bread crumbs floating on the surface.

Then we picked some weeds from the lawn, bunny leaves we called them. Off to the rabbit cages we ran to stuff the bunny leaves through the wire netting of their cages and watched in fascination as the rabbits eagerly tugged to get every leaf through. They quickly gobbled them up as their twitching noses signaled their delight.
                                                      Allan & Ron in 1945
                                                       Allan & Ron in 1947

We couldn’t reach the next attraction because they were too high for us little guys. But, we still stood spell bound by the pigeon coops nestled high above the rabbit hutches. The pigeons of course added another dimension to our experience because they spoke to us with their cooing, adding to their incessant head bobbing. Oh how I wished I could feed them too!

Once we had our few minutes of entertainment in the backyard menagerie, Aunt Frieda summoned us into the house. We left out the front door and headed to the bus stop across the street. The old Chestnut Street bus that ran from Garfield to Passaic stopped across the street from Aunt Frieda’s house at the corner of Schley and Chestnut Streets. The first step of our real adventure was to take this bus to get to the train station in Passaic.
                         This is what the old Chestnut Street bus looked like.

When the bus arrived, I remember how it was such a struggle for us little guys, barely 3 feet tall,  to make it up the steps onto the bus. It must have been a comfort for us holding the steady hands of my Aunt Frieda as we made our way onto that old bus. I remember how noisy it was and that the ride was quite bumpy as the rickety old bus rattled its way down the streets. Ron and I held fast to the sides of our seat. As the bus shook and swayed, I marveled at those passengers who stood up, holding only the black leather straps hanging from pipes high above the seats.

Once the bus arrived at the bus station in Passaic, we made our way to the train station a few blocks away. Boarding the train to Rutherford was also a challenge for our short legs because the steps onto the train were even higher than the bus.

                    A typical train car on the train to Rutherford New Jersey

The train ride was always a thrill for Ron and me. That thrill was magnified for me because of the train tracks at the end of Garden Court South where I lived, about an eighth of a mile from my house. As long as I can remember, the trains that passed every night created dreams of riding the train. My Aunt Frieda made those dreams come true!

The train took us to Rutherford where the bank that held Aunt Frieda’s mortgage had a branch. When the train arrived, we now faced the challenge of going down those high steps to the ground. Ron and I probably jumped the distance, not a happy thought for our Aunt Frieda no doubt, but after all, we were adventurous boys.

Successfully disembarked from the train we walked the few blocks to the bank. The bank was on a triangular block with the main entrance at the apex. This gave us little guys an interesting perspective, because the building was quite large and imposing. Once inside the teller cages were very high from our vantage point. I wonder today what thoughts must have coursed through our minds as we saw Aunt Frieda pass her envelop into the teller’s cage and shortly after getting it back. Surely it was a mystery to our three and four year old minds.

With the mortgage payment completed we left the bank and headed to the local German butcher shop. Aunt Frieda would get some meat and a few groceries. But the real treat for Ron and me was the hotdog the butcher would give us boys. A raw hotdog in those days was very different in quality than they are today. Hotdogs then lacked all the chemicals that we have today.

Then on April 10, 1947 I heard the sad news that my dear Aunt Frieda had died. I was four years and almost two months old at the time. I don’t remember what feelings came over me when I heard the news, but I am forever grateful that my parents took me to her wake and funeral. This experience proved to be a profound turning point in my life.

As I entered the funeral home, I was deeply moved by the scene of a huge number of flowers that to my small stature engulfed the whole room creating as it were a blanket. The flowers appeared to reach to the sky. Their aroma filled the room with a fragrance that still piques my senses. The scene was awash in a myriad of colors. My dad lifted me up so I could see my beloved aunt lying peacefully in the casket embraced by a sea of flowers. It was a profound experience in those few moments that gave me a peaceful and comforting view of death. I eventually realized that it gave me the ability to positively cope with the loss of dear ones for the rest of my life. As it turned out, I would experience many more deaths of very dear souls who deeply touched and blessed my life.

It may seem surprising that at such a young age I would develop a vision of the death of loved ones with such positive feelings. I learned, apparently, that the blessings garnered during my life with a deceased loved one transcended the pain of their loss. My clear memories of the wonderful experiences with my Aunt Frieda are forever resident in my heart and mind.

Turning Points

This experience was a significant turning point for me because  it provided a lifelong sense of comfort in the face of grief and loss. The combination of the overpowering sense of entering a garden abounding in beautiful flowers that seemed to reach the sky, the potent fragrance that filled the room adding a sense of being embraced and the hushed silence, created the perfect atmosphere to introduce my young soul to see my dear Aunt Frieda in a peace that was beyond my understanding. For the rest of my life, these few moments gave me peace as year after year, loved ones passed on. This peace defies my understanding and no words can describe it. These moments, my early life turning point, was my introduction to the awesome truth of Philippians 4:7 (NIV)

7 And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

I am forever grateful for this turning point that has served me all my life to this very day. I am grateful to God who inspired my parents to make this experience possible and that they had the courage to follow that inspiration.

One of the consequences of this turning point in my life is that I have been blessed to serve souls who are grieving over the loss of their loved ones. I have been requested to conduct or assist in many funeral and memorial services to this day.

I am active as a director with the Garden of Innocence where abandoned babies are given a funeral and dignified burial. I serve this organization delivering sermons from time to time and officiating over the dove release portion of the funeral service. (www.gardenofinnocence.org)

Turning Points have the interesting characteristic of evoking new and oft time’s far reaching and unexpected consequences in our life.

COPYRIGHT © 2014 ALLAN E. MUSTERER

My mother suffered illnesses all her life. In spite of it, she remained one of the most positive people I have ever known. She always was an inspiration to me as I grew up under her mothering.

She suffered a stroke that she could not overcome and because of the seizures that resulted she had to be on heavy medications until she passed on. Still she inspired me more than ever before. I often wondered what it was that enabled her to weather her storms of life with such strength and dignity.

It fell upon me to organize and review all the family documents. My mother had been a bookkeeper, so I found everything very well organized. While rummaging through one of her files, I came across a poem that she had saved.

I put the papers down and sat back to read this poem. As I read it, it occurred to me that this poem embodied her disposition, and gave her so much strength of faith and trust in our God. The poem is titled “My Cross”. I do not know who authored it, but I can hear my mother reciting it to this day.

MY CROSS

Upon my back was laid a grievous load,
A heavy cross to bear along the road.

I staggered on, until one weary day,
Lurking temptation sprang across my way.

I prayed to God, and swift at His command
The cross became a weapon in my hand.

It slew my threat’ning enemy, and then
Became a cross upon my back again.

I faltered many a league, until at length,
Groaning, I sank, and had no further strength.

“Oh God!” I cried, “I am so weak and lame!”
And lo! my cross a staff of strength became.

It swept me on till I regained the loss,
Then was upon my back, again a cross.

My soul a desert. O’er the burning tack
I persevered, the cross upon my back.

No shade was there, and in the burning sun
I sank at last, and thought my days were done.

But lo! the Lord works many a blest surprise –
The cross became a shade before my eyes!

I slept; I woke, to feel the strength of ten.
I found the cross upon my back again.

And thus, through all my days, from that to this,
The cross, my burden, has become a bliss,

Nor ever shall I lay the burden down,
For God one day will make my cross a crown!

The tears flowed as I read this poem and it unlocked my mother’s secret source. It still brings tears to my eyes and grips my heart as it works its touching and inspiring energy upon me just as it must have worked on her. I am thankful she passed it on to me.

Turning Point

A simple poem, a word or phrase, spoken or read at just the right moment has the power to be a turning point for us. This poem was that, I am convinced, for my mother. From the moment I discovered this poem, it became the same for me, another turning point.

I hope that as you read this poem again, it helps you set your life’s compass and find your cross a bliss.

COPYRIGHT © 2014 ALLAN E. MUSTERER

I woke up early one Saturday morning. I read the morning newspaper and had breakfast before I settled into my home office to catch up on some filing and other mundane backlogged things that needed my attention. The phone rang and revealed an unfamiliar number. I hesitated to answer, expecting some telemarketer trying to sell me something I didn’t need or want. Strangely, I felt compelled to answer before the answering machine picked it up.

“Hello” I said.

“Hello Mr. Musterer.”

I didn’t recognize the voice so I inquired, “Who is this?”

A reply came, “Its Michael.” I had no idea who it was. It didn’t sound like any one of my friends named Michael, nor any others that I knew.

I said, “Michael who?”

The voice responded, “I lived across the street from you many years ago. I was your son Randy’s friend. I am now living in Florida.”

Then I remembered him and quickly said, “Hi Michael! How are you! It’s so nice to hear from you.”

“Oh, Mr. Musterer, I am not doing well at all.”

“What’s wrong Michael?”

“It’s my girlfriend, she has cancer and she is dying. The doctors gave her six weeks to live.”

“Oh, Michael, I am so sorry. Is there anything I can do?” I spontaneously responded.

Then Michael said something that really struck me.

“I remember when Randy and I were eight years old. You took us up to Big Pine Creek in the Sierras trout fishing. One morning, before we went out fishing again, you took us into the woods and you talked to us about God. I remember how you prayed. Would you pray with my girlfriend?”

For a moment I was speechless. After a pause, I said, “Michael, I would be honored to pray with your girlfriend.”

Michael said he would call back in a few minutes with her on the phone.

I was shaken at the revelation that something I had done some 25 years before had given this young man a measure of hope in his direst need. At the end of his rope, he saw a need to bring God into the situation and he believed I could do it.

I remembered that time in the summer of 1981. I had invited Michael to join Randy and me on a four day trout fishing trip to my favorite spot on Big Pine Creek high on the eastern slopes of the Sierra Mountains just above Big Pine. We loaded up my pickup truck and while packing I included my bible and my traveling pocket chalice with Holy Communion wafers. I paused with these items in my hands and thought, “why am I taking these? After all I am going on vacation into the wilderness with two children. And Michael’s faith is unknown to me.” But I took them in spite of these thoughts. Packed and ready to leave, the boys said their goodbyes to their mothers and we set out on the seven hour trek to the mountain campground.

When we arrived at the campground, we set up our camp essentials and headed for the frigid stream fed by a glacier higher up on the mountain.  Once we caught a few fish, we returned to our campsite to finish up the final details.

After two days of good fishing and the warming evening campfires, Sunday morning dawned. We ate breakfast and cleaned up the kitchen utensils. Then I took the boys into the woods and we found a spot where they could sit on a fallen tree trunk. I told them we were going to have a little church service. I prayed with the boys, spoke on the theme of the service that was being presented that day in our church back home, and together we celebrated Holy Communion. I prayed again and we returned to camp, picked up our fishing gear and went back to fishing.

Since that August 1981 fishing trip, I never gave any thought to what we had experienced with that little wilderness church service and I didn’t tell anyone. I suspect that had I told someone, they might have leveled some criticism like “Hey, you were on vacation! No need to have church there!”

Now, some 25 years later, with Michael’s call and the weight of his request on my heart, I deliberated on what just came to light. I woke my wife and told her what had just happened. We marveled at this and I asked her to pray that I would be a blessing for Michael and his girl friend. Then the phone rang.

“Hello” I said.

Michael said, “Allan, this is my girl friend Jennifer.”

I said, “Jennifer, it is so nice to meet you. Michael tells me that you are very sick, and the doctors seem to have given up hope.”

Jennifer humbly answered, “Yes that is true.”

I said, “Jennifer, I do not know you, but I know that God knows you. I know that His love for you is beyond what you or I can understand. To Him you are worth a kingdom. He will not let any harm come to you. I also know that Michael loves you dearly and he has asked me to pray with you. Would you like me to pray with you?”

“Yes, please.” she said.

I proceeded to pray with Michael and Jennifer. I thanked God that He revealed to Michael that there was a source of help in Jennifer’s dire situation.  I acknowledged God in His omnipotence and asked for His grace and blessing on the health of Jennifer. I asked that through His Holy Spirit, He would guide the hands and minds of the doctors to insure a positive, blessed outcome for her. I finally thanked God for what He would do for Jennifer and that His perfect will be done.

The three of us spoke briefly and we said our goodbyes.

I continued to pray for Jennifer and Michael in the days that followed. Early that week, I received another call from Michael. He told me that on Sunday, Jennifer became seriously ill and was rushed to the hospital emergency room. She seemed near death. Her regular doctor could not be reached so another doctor took over her care. When this doctor reviewed her medical charts, he immediately took her off the medication previously administered and changed to another one. Jennifer responded immediately to the new medication. So rapid and dramatic was her response that she was released from the hospital the next day. Her cancer went into remission and she was feeling better than she had for a long time.

I was thankful beyond words and offered up a prayer of praise and thanksgiving. I invited Michael to our church in his area. Later I found out he never went. Five years later Michael called again and told me that he and Jennifer were now “just friends” but she was still healthy and well. I took the opportunity to once again invite him to church. Whether he accepts or not is yet to be determined. But I learned much from this experience.

Turning Points

The turning point for me was the realization that actions that we take can have profound positive effects on people and that these may be hidden for many years. They are like seeds that take root and blossom only in God’s perfect and meticulous timing. I learned that we need to follow the impulses that God places into us, even if they don’t seem necessary or appropriate at the moment. God’s purpose for us may not be clear in its details, but it is undeniable in its reality. Prayer changes things, and prayer changes me.

It is my constant and continuing hope that this experience will be a turning point for Michael and Jennifer, and that they will realize the love and power of God that is available for them. I hope that they will know that God used them to give me a profound turning point in my life.

I am reminded of a story of a nun who, during World War I, had a hospital where she treated soldiers who fought in the war. Above the entry to her hospital were the words “Do Good and Disappear”. At times, God reveals to us the results of what good we once did and tried to disappear. Sometimes it takes years to know and sometimes we may never know.

COPYRIGHT © 2014 ALLAN E. MUSTERER

I was a senior in High School and had seven or eight schools that I considered to attend in pursuit of a degree in mechanical engineering. One of them, Bucknell University, I considered because it was the school where my chemistry teacher had earned his chemistry degree. As with all the other schools I seriously considered, I would be alone at Bucknell, as none of my friends from school or church would be there with me.

I applied to my list of choices and waited for the hoped for acceptance letters. I gained acceptance into six schools, but based on a visit to Bucknell one weekend and the counsel of my mentor and uncle, I decided to attend Bucknell University in the small college town of Lewisburg, Pennsylvania.

When the journey to school was a few days away, I attended a midweek service at our church. The sermon was based on a text from Old Testament scripture, Solomon’s Proverbs. I had always been impressed with Solomon primarily because of his encounter with God as a teenager. The text for the service was Proverbs 4: 5-6. I do not honestly recall how it may have impressed me at the moment I heard it or how the sermon based on it moved me. The future revealed that it somehow got into me. It became a lifelong touchstone that has been a gold mine of wisdom and strength throughout my life to this day.

The text as used in the sermon was from the old King James Version as follows:

Proverbs 3:5-6 (KJV) 5- Trust in the LORD with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.
6- In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy paths.

I found this text to be a recipe. A recipe has two components: Ingredients and Instructions. The ingredients define what elements make up the recipe, while the instructions define the sequence and timing of combining them that is critical to achieving a successful end.

With this analogy in mind, I considered analyzing the text.  I expanded the words of the text by adding the words found in the Message Bible as follows:

Proverbs 3:5 (MSG) 5-6 Trust GOD from the bottom of your heart; don’t try to figure out everything on your own. Listen for GOD’s voice in everything you do, everywhere you go; He’s the one who will keep you on track. Don’t assume that you know it all.

I found four basic Ingredients:
1. Trust in the Lord my God
2. Don’t insist on understanding
3. Acknowledge God in everything without reservation
4. God will guide you

I then dug into each of them to understand the Instructions as follows:

• Trusting in God I found to be the key to the success of moving forward with this life recipe. This ingredient is critical before the rest can be added. Looking at the many turning points in my life, I was able to see how the hand of God influenced the experiences I had in life. This developed a strong sense of trust in God. Whenever I faced circumstances that seemed beyond me, I trusted God and His will and plan for me. I found that God was worthy of my trust, completely and “from the bottom of my heart.”
• Leaning, relying and insisting on my own understanding I found to be futile. Too much was hidden from me. I could not make wise decisions based on such limited understanding. This was not always easy to do. We tend to think we know it all. However, I came to believe that this ingredient was crucial and I was equipped to embrace it when I trusted in God. Then and only then could I move forward without complete understanding. I also came to realize that eventually, understanding came at the most beneficial moment, even though it was many years later.
• Acknowledging God and His influence and actions in my life presented some difficulty when I faced some very difficult times. When life seemed to be going in directions that caused fear and apprehension I often wondered how God was involved. But I found that when the previous ingredient was engaged, I could acknowledge God in all things. Experience bore out the reality of God’s hand in everything. I was often reminded how Joseph came to see the evil his brothers had done to him when he said to them, what you meant for evil God made into good.
• The directing of my path by God was His way of fulfilling His hope in me. It took a specific listening to Him as He “spoke” in the form of feelings, words and experiences. In most of these, his “speech” was a whisper and not thunder, lightning, fire or earthquake. Here I learned yet another lesson from Solomon. When Solomon was anointed king, he was but a teenager. God asked Him what He should give him. He asked for “a heart with skill to listen, a discerning heart to be a king of righteousness”.

TURNING POINT

The turning point in this experience occurred in the span of a few minutes. A text from the Bible read in a church service. There was no immediate “ah-ha” inspiration. But, as time marched on, the value in the words found ever deeper meaning for me. As the model of a recipe eventually became evident, its value increased even more. I anticipate that further revelations from these simple words will be revealed in experiences yet to come.

COMMENTS

As you read this turning point experience, I hope that you found some personal connection wherein the truth of this scripture also influenced your life. I hope you will share them here so others can be blessed by your experience.

COPYRIGHT © 2014 ALLAN E. MUSTERER