allanmusterer@sbcglobal.net

The Six-Month Prayer

I was scheduled to conduct a Wednesday evening church service in our local congregation. The schedule indicated I was to be assisted by our deacon Bill. Deacon Bill had a unique talent, being gifted to see things “outside the box” as one might say. Thus, he gave a thought provoking twist on whatever topic was being presented.

On this particular Wednesday evening service, everything progressed as usual. We sang together an opening hymn. As officiate I prayed an opening prayer. I read the text word from the Bible that was also read in all our churches across the globe for that midweek sermon. The choir sang a hymn as the congregants prepared for the sermon. Following the choir hymn I proceeded with my delivery of the sermon.

The sermon developed along the lines outlined in the minister’s guide that served to unify the spiritual message throughout the international church. When the main points of the sermon were covered, I called on our deacon to assist. I always anticipated the interesting and inspiring facets of the spirit of the service that Deacon Bill would present.

In preparation for the deacon’s serving the choir sang another hymn.

Deacon Bill began to serve and true to form touched my soul in a way that caused me to recall an experience I had not thought about for probably 30 years or more. I sat listening intently to the deacon’s serving. The impact of my past experience conjured up in my mind by the deacon’s words was profound. However, my intellect told me that it was irrelevant to the spirit of the sermon. I subsequently decided not to mention it when the deacon completed his serving.

The deacon concluded and I returned to the altar.

I stood there absolutely empty, in fact I was speechless. For me, that is a very rare occurrence. I stood silent for what seemed to be a long time when I began to tell the story of my experience inspired by the deacon’s words. The story flowed effortlessly from my lips to a congregation intently listening to every word.
When the story ended I concluded the service.

After the closing hymn I stepped down from the altar. Immediately one of our members ran up to me. She grabbed my hands in hers and thanked me profusely for telling the story at the end of the service.

Before I could say a word in response, she said, “That story was an answer to a prayer I have prayed for the last six months. Thank you!”

I said, “Please wait because we need to talk. Thanks must be to God, not me. I must share with you what extraordinary lengths God went to in order for you to realize this message from heaven.”

I greeted the other members and then returned to our sister.

I explained, “God prepared my soul for this divine service, giving me the necessary thoughts and feelings to present the spirit of the sermon. These words opened thoughts in the heart of our deacon. When he served, the words opened an experience in my life I had not thought of for thirty years or more! However, as impressive as the experience was to me, in my mind I dismissed it as being irrelevant to the sermon’s message. I decided in my mind not to tell it. But when I returned to the altar, God emptied my heart and mind and I was compelled to relate the story which ultimately contained the answer to your six-month long prayer vigil!”

Together we gratefully rejoiced in the love of God that this experience revealed in such an impressive way. It is difficult to find appropriate words to describe the deep feeling such experiences create in our hearts and minds. The Father’s relentless pursuit of blessing us in spite of our own weaknesses is evidence of His eternal love.

Turning Points

We exercise our faith and trust in God by bringing to Him through prayer the things of life that tell us we need His help. Prayers though are not always answered in the timeliness we desire. We usually want some instant response from heaven. Coupled with this are our expectations as to what means the answer comes to us. This turning point revealed that the perfect answer in the perfect way comes at the least expected time and from the most surprising source. Further, we may not be aware when God uses us to be the harbinger of His answer to someone’s prayer.

Clara’s Story

For 38 years after she was widowed, my mother-in-law Clara lived alone in an upstairs apartment in New Jersey. It was a small flat in the house of her nephew and his family. Her younger sister lived just across the street so Clara was surrounded by loving and supportive family members. Carol and I lived 2800 miles across the country in San Diego. Carol’s brother Rudy lived about an hour’s drive away from Clara in Sussex County in northwestern New Jersey.

In early June of 2014, Carol and I had just returned from our Alaska vacation when Clara’s sister Helen called. She told us that Clara’s loss of short term memory was in her opinion becoming a safety issue. She asked Carol to visit and make her own assessment of the situation. Carol and I discussed the situation and decided that Carol needed fly back to New Jersey and get a firsthand view of Clara’s true state of health.

Soon after her arrival, Carol realized the situation was indeed a cause for concern and something needed to be done. She collaborated with her brother Rudy and embarked on a thorough investigation as to how they would deal with Clara’s short term memory issues.

First, Clara needed a thorough physical and medical evaluation. They met with an elder care professional to get an understanding as to how best to deal with the results of the medical findings. It become very clear that Clara would need to have some level of assistance in her daily life.

Various scenarios were considered. It was concluded that the most appropriate course of action was to find an assisted living facility. But the question was where?

The two options were somewhere in New Jersey or a move to San Diego. While Carol and Rudy investigated details of available facilities in New Jersey, I embarked on an investigation of facilities in the San Diego area.

All of this transpired over two and half months. Considering all of the information that was gathered, it became clear that the best course was to bring Clara to San Diego. But that posed some challenges.

Clara suffered from claustrophobia so flying was a big hurdle that had to be overcome. Carol was under a lot of stress because there were so many details weighing on the decision. She called me for support and I told her what I had learned from two previous experiences (See “The Volunteer” and “Make-A-Wish” posts).

I told her, “Carol, pray about the decision you need to make and faithfully place it God’s hands. Then make a decision. If it is the right decision, God will bless and support it. If it is the wrong decision, He’ll change things.”

Carol prayed and handed it over to God. She then made the decision to bring her mother to San Diego.

Once the wheels were in motion, everything went smoothly. The family helped move Clara’s furniture into storage and Carol made arrangements on Southwest Airlines for the trip to San Diego. The trip went very smoothly, as the airline personnel treated Clara with utmost care and respect. She never even thought about her claustrophobia and didn’t need any medication to counter it.

When Clara arrived at our home, I told her she could live with us as long as she wanted. So Clara stayed with us for a few weeks. One of Clara’s character traits is that she never wants to put someone out of their normal routine. So for whatever reasons she asked for her own place. That was not surprising as she cherished her independence.

I told her that there were a number of Assisted Living facilities nearby. We arranged to take Clara to view two of them. I thought that if she saw one large and one smaller facility we could get a gauge of what would make her comfortable and happy.

First we visited a small facility, the one nearest our home. Then we went to a large luxury facility a few miles further north. As we were leaving the large facility Clara said, “This place is really nice but it is so big I would feel lost in here. I want to go to the smaller place.”

So the stage was set to move mom to the assisted living facility nearest our home called The Arbors. We met with the staff and made the arrangements for Clara to move in. She would have a newly renovated room with a private bathroom. The move date was set and Carol and I set out to buy the furnishings Clara would need to furnish her room.

The day before the move in, Carol prayed and asked, “All I ask God is that my mother can find at least just one friend at this place so that if a day comes that I can’t visit her, my mother will have a friend.”
The next morning I went to the facility with the furniture kits we had purchased and the tools to assemble them. While I was busy with that effort Carol and her girlfriend went to get mom’s bed.

By the early afternoon the room was arranged and ready for Clara’s arrival. We returned home, packed Clara’s clothes and we headed off to The Arbors Assisted Living.

Clara’s Room at The Arbors

We were standing in Clara’s room when the manager from The Arbors came in to make sure all was well and to offer her personal welcome. She invited Carol and me to join Clara for dinner that evening. Unfortunately I had a business appointment that evening so I couldn’t stay.

I took my leave and went home. Carol remained with Clara to help her assimilate her new home. At dinner time Carol joined her mother for dinner in the dining room.

Carol and Clara enjoyed their first meal together at The Arbors. As the other residents began to leave and pass by their table, Carol stopped them and introduced her mother, “This is my mother Clara. She’s just moved here from New Jersey. This is her first day at the Arbors.”

After a few such introductions, one lady replied, “I’m from New Jersey! I lived in Union City.”

Carol said, “We lived in Gutenberg, right next door!”

The lady said, “I worked in Gutenberg at an embroidery factory.”

Carol said, “My mother and father worked in an embroidery factory too, it was called Solar-Bell.”

The lady said, “That’s where I worked too! My name is Dorothy.”

It soon became clear that over 70 years before, Clara and Dorothy had worked side by side in that embroidery factory. They were friends. Now all those years later they came together in their 90’s almost 3000 miles away from their early life in New Jersey.

Solar Bell Factory
Dorothy upper left, Clara upper right and Clara’s future husband Rudy upper center. (Circa 1940)

When Carol told me this story later that evening, I wrote a report to the local news station telling this amazing story from Carol’s point of view. We were contacted by a reporter from the news station the next day and within a few weeks a meeting was arranged at The Arbors.

The reporter and her camera man from the News Station arrived and we set up for the filming in one of the offices at the Arbors. In the days leading up to the meeting I obtained from Dorothy some old photos that she had from the days in the factory. I made a number of copies and even had some of the photos enlarged.

Carol, Clara and Dorothy were arranged around a table with the photos I had made strewn across the table. The reporter asked the three women questions that inspired nostalgic conversation among them as the cameras rolled.

Dorothy, Clara, Carol & Abbie (News Reporter)

The amazing story broke on the news broadcast a few evenings later. It was such an amazing story it aired on national TV a day or two later.

Quickly social media became a buzz with the amazing story as well. The family members in New Jersey were shocked that their Aunt Clara, who lived in New Jersey for almost 90 years and never made a wave, now in less than a month in San Diego made national news!

Dorothy, Carol and Clara

Turning Point

Once again the turning point experienced with my marine friend years before served me when Carol needed support in making a critical decision. As the numerous events that followed that decision attest, God supported it in so many ways. The most amazing being the answer he gave to Carol’s simple and humble prayer. I am always moved when I witness God’s hand in our life, multiplying blessings for us without end.

My Son is an Angel

Decades after we opened a congregation for our church in Linda Vista to accommodate the large number of new members from the Hmong tribes of Laos and Vietnam, some of the families moved to Temecula. Temecula is a town about 45 miles north of San Diego.

One Hmong family that moved to Temecula was the first to have joined our church in 1980. They were instrumental in helping us start our congregation among the Southeast Asian refugees that included people from Laos and Cambodia. This family had moved to the central valley of California in the mid 1980’s along with many of their relatives.

One of the women in that family, Tang, called me with some tragically sad news. A single mother, Tang was distraught over the death of her only child, her son Joseph. I was deeply saddened as she told me the tragic story of his untimely death in a motorcycle accident. Since I had lost touch with the family for a number of years, Tang filled me in on what had happened and the background I had missed since our last meeting.

The family had been living in Temecula for a few years where some of the family members found employment at the local Indian Casino. Joseph was in his late twenties and married with two children. At some point, Tang bought her son a motorcycle. While riding one evening, he was hit by a drunk driver and suffered fatal injuries. The tragedy created immense guilt in Tang that seriously exacerbated her grief. She insisted on blaming herself for her son’s death because she bought him the motorcycle.

I immediately made arrangements to visit Tang the next day.

When I arrived the next day I found Tang distraught and visibly shaken as she explained to me the circumstances surrounding Joseph’s death. Amidst her outward grief, Tang explained that prior to his death, during a heart to heart mother and son talk, Joseph said that should he die, he wanted to be cremated. He wanted his ashes scattered at sea. At first, Tang dismissed this statement as her son was still very young and she didn’t anticipate such an early death of her son. When he was killed in the accident, Joseph’s words came ringing back to her.

To honor her son’s wishes, Joseph was cremated. During my visit, I attempted to comfort Tang and convince her that she was not guilty. I couldn’t convince Tang that her son was at peace. I offered to pray with her and the family in hopes that it would bring her some measure of peace and comfort.

After we prayed together, Tang asked me if I would join her and her father when Joseph’s ashes were to be buried at sea. Of course I agreed. We made plans to meet at their home a few days later for the journey to Newport where they had contracted a yacht for the scattering of the ashes.

The day of the scattering dawned and I drove to their home where I found Tang still in anguish, weighed down with incessant feelings of guilt. Before we left I prayed with her and the family, seeking to help her deal with such oppressive guilt.

We traveled to the mortuary in the town of Lake Elsinore and picked up Joseph’s ashes. Then we drove toward Newport marina some 85 miles north. Along the way I continued to work with Tang, gently seeking to help her with her deep emotional struggle. She kept saying to me, “If only I knew that my Joseph was an angel.”

After almost two hours on the road, we reached the marina. We walked along the docks until we reached the yacht that the family hired. Apparently, this yacht was frequently hired to perform the task of scattering a loved one’s ashes at sea. Since I was the only Caucasian with the family the Captain spoke to me first, not knowing that Tang spoke perfect English.

I realized by his sensitive demeanor that he was well experienced in providing a dignified procedure for scattering ashes at sea. He explained to me the procedure that they follow according to the legal requirements and his specific plan to maintain a very solemn and respectful program.

I explained to Tang and her father what the procedure would be and we took our places on chairs near the bow of the ship. The crew disembarked and we headed out into the bay.

There was a cool gentle breeze that wafted over our faces and gave us a refreshing feeling as we sailed out. We were approaching the spot for the scattering when the captain came to the bow area where we were sitting. He carried a basket that contained Joseph’s ashes now wrapped in a white cloth scarf neatly but loosely tied together at the top. He said to me that in a few minutes, the ship would be turned around and be positioned to be pointed toward the shore.

With the ship in position, the captain asked if we wanted to say anything. First, Tang’s father offered up a prayer in his native Hmong language. Then Tang knelt down behind the basket of ashes and wailed, crying out, “Please let my Joseph be an angel!”

After Tang arose, she looked over at me and I offered up a prayer, specifically asking God our Father to bless Joseph and to give his mother Tang the peace that defies our human understanding. I asked too that He would send His Holy Spirit, the great Comforter to comfort Tang and her family as only He can do.

At the conclusion of the prayer, the captain led Tang to the basket that held Joseph’s ashes and instructed her how to hold the white scarf at the corners and position it over the edge of the ship’s bow.

Tang held the corners of the scarf that held her son’s ashes just as the captain had directed. The signal was given to the crew and the ship began to slowly move backward. At the captain’s word, Tang released the scarf and the ashes gently dropped onto the surface of the sea.

Tangs’ father, the ship’s captain and I stood at the railing watching as the yacht continued to slowly drift backwards. The ashes floated on the surface for a few moments before beginning to sink into the depths of the sea.

Suddenly, as the three of us and now Tang stood at the railing watching the ashes float upon the waters, they created the perfect form and image of an angel!

The captain of the ship poked me and whispered, “Do you see what I see? An angel!”

I said, “Yes! I see it too.”

For a brief moment I stood their stunned until the eerie silence was broken when Tang saw it too. I heard her excited scream declaring, “My son is and angel!”

In that miraculous moment, the oppressive weight of guilt was lifted from Tang’s heart and she was finally at peace. I rejoiced that God had answered our many prayers.

Slowly the ashes settled into the depths and the image of the angel drifted away, only to remain indelibly etched into our memories.

On the way home Tang asked me if we could have a memorial service for Joseph at our church in Vista. I told her that we would plan it as soon as possible.

Shortly thereafter we conducted a memorial service. I explained to Tang that Joseph was more than an angel; he was a child of God and as such was in a very special place in the heart and love of God.

Turning Point

It never ceases to touch my heart when I witness the extraordinary means that our God exerts on behalf of those He loves to comfort and sustain them in their most difficult days. These experiences are evidence of those famous words God gave to Paul when He said, “My grace is sufficient for you.” In our struggles of life, prayer changes us and our situation. We should not underestimate what God can and will do for us, if we will only believe and trust in Him.

Another Man Named Harold – Another Turning Point

This experience had its beginnings in April 2015.

My brother-in-law Rudy Jr. had become seriously ill. Carol and I journeyed to New Jersey to see and support him and his family through the difficult last days. We stayed with our nephew Rudy III, his wife Christine and their two young boys. Daily we visited Carol’s brother with his daughter Rene and son Rudy III at a nearby hospice facility until his passing.

The day after my brother-in-law passed on, Carol, Christine, Rene and Rudy III went to Carol’s brother’s house to retrieve some legal documents. I stayed at home with Christine’s step mother Karen who had come to watch the children while their parents were busy taking care of details for the funeral.

I was in the kitchen warming up my cup of coffee when Karen came in. The boys had fallen asleep and Karen was taking a break. We struck up a conversation that eventually took on a spiritual nature. Shortly, Karen remarked that she found it easy to talk to me and asked if I would pray for her dad whose health was deteriorating. His name was Harold Haas. I agreed and prayed for Harold often during the weeks that followed.

My brother-in-law’s funeral took place a few days later. A day later, Carol and I returned home to San Diego. I frequently included Harold’s condition in my prayers as Karen had asked.

We had previously made plans for a trip to the east coast for my 50th college reunion at the end of May. Since the Air Force was going to give my brother-n-law the military honors that had not been done at the funeral, we included a visit to the family again for the Memorial Day weekend.

While we were visiting with family and friends at Rudy and Christine’s home, Karen asked if I could visit her dad before we left for my reunion. Harold’s health had reached such a low point that Karen had moved him into her home where she hoped he could find some peace.

In the early evening that day, we travelled to Karen’s home where Christine’s dad gave us a tour of their home and the grounds around it. It was a very old house with a large barn and a stream that ran through the property.

Following our tour of the grounds, we made our way to the house. We entered the living room to find Harold seated on the sofa. From his appearance it was obvious that he was very weak and ailing. He was bundled up in a sweat suit and had a knitted beanie hat on his head. We were introduced and spoke briefly. His voice was weak and speaking was labored. I chose not to engage in a conversation at that moment in sympathy for his weakened condition.

I turned away from Harold and immediately noticed extraordinary oil paintings hanging on the living room walls. Drawn to them, I gazed in awe assessing the effect they had in capturing my undivided attention. Closer inspection revealed an exceptional detail of the entities on the canvas. I moved from one painting to another. The trees and other flora were painted so lifelike that they had the appearance of a photograph and not a painting. When I finally caught my breath, I remarked to Karen’s husband Rudy that the paintings were quite impressive. He told me that they were all painted by Harold.

I gazed again at each in a state of awe, as the details and artistic effect were simply captivating. I wondered how Harold had developed such a talent evidenced by his work.

After some further discussion about the paintings our house tour continued. At the end of the tour we were sitting on the outside porch when Karen came out. She asked me if I would sit with her dad for a few minutes as she had an important phone call to engage. I gladly agreed.

I entered the living room where I found Harold still seated on the sofa. I sat next to him wondering what to say. I again surveyed the room taking in the amazing collection of paintings adorning the walls. As I studied the art created at the artistic hands of Harold, it became clear to me, a fellow artist, that Harold possessed an extraordinary God-given gift for replicating the fine points of the Creation. His ability to capture nature on canvas allowed the observer to actually feel the depictions as though being present at the very moment it was painted.
As impressed as I was at the sheer beauty of Harold’s handy work, I was much more deeply impressed when I spoke with him. I inquired as to what inspired him to take up painting.

In a soft and shaky voice he said his wife suggested he take up a hobby when he retired. I asked how he learned to harness his natural talent. He softly said that he practiced and practiced till he got it right. I imagined he invested much to achieve his mastery.

But then something happened that revealed his character. Suddenly his voice became stronger when he said “I only could paint if the painting had a destination.”

That unexpected statement caused me to stop and think. Harold’s gift came to life when the purpose of his painting was being a blessing for someone. This struck me as an amazing gift and legacy. All the paintings in that room were destined for his daughter Karen.

The conversation about the paintings opened Harold’s heart and strengthened his voice. No longer a weak and struggling voice, he spoke with firm resolve. I listened as he poured out his heart with many things that troubled him and had stolen his peace. These will forever remain only with me. But I will share what they revealed to me about this extraordinary man.

Harold revealed himself to be a man of character and principle. He was kind and understanding, willing and able to forgive others; no matter the hurt he may have been dealt. He lived the words of Jesus at the cross, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they do!”

Harold showed me his humility, kindheartedness, courage and graciousness.
When Karen returned to the room I offered to pray with them. Karen and Harold welcomed my invitation and I prayed. I asked that Harold be blessed with the peace he had lost and that he be visited by the Holy Spirit who could comfort him as only He could do.

I took my leave of Harold and his family, and afterward felt that he had found peace with God and the life he led. I was convinced that his peace was eternal.
I was blessed having met Harold that day and marveled at how God had employed my appreciation for art to open a door for Harold and me to come together. I cherished those few moments shared with him and hoped they would continue to be a blessing for him.

Shortly after I returned home, I received word that Harold had passed on. I was grateful for what Harold had passed on to me. Karen wrote me and expressed that she really believed I was were able to help her dad that day. She said that after I left she saw her dad was more at peace. She felt that the peace and comfort we prayed for had come to him. Karen said she too felt the peace and believed I was put in their house at that time for a reason.

Turning Point

It always seems to become a turning point for me when I see that God’s meticulous planning arranged our position, timing and God given talents to affect the confluence to be the blessing He had in store for someone He loves.

Harold’s Story – A Powerful Life Lesson

In 2007 I was serving as a minister in the New Apostolic Church with the office of evangelist. I was responsible for caring for two congregations in the San Diego area when I was given the mission of caring for a third congregation located in Anaheim.

After a few months serving in Anaheim on Sundays, I wanted to make an effort to grow even closer to this new congregation. To accomplish that, I scheduled myself to serve the congregation on a midweek evening service. This plan required an earlier than usual departure from home due to traditional traffic conditions on the trip from San Diego to Orange County.

On Tuesday prior to my journey, I received a call from our priest in the Anaheim congregation. He advised me that a member named Harold Haase, who had not attended services for many years, was near death due to a severe illness. He asked if I wanted to take the opportunity to visit this man in the hospital prior to the service on Wednesday. When I heard his name I was moved to answer in the affirmative. I knew this man’s family very well, though had never met him. I especially wanted to visit Harold because his name indicated he was from my home town, Garfield, New Jersey and considering his age of 79, most likely knew my parents.

Early Wednesday afternoon I took to the road wending my way through heavy traffic northward on Interstate 5 toward Los Angeles. I wondered what to expect when I met Harold. I prayed that in some way I would be a blessing for him and that my visit would make a difference. I easily found the freeway exit. From there it was just a brief drive to the hospital.

I parked my car in the hospital parking area, but before leaving the car I prayed again and sought the guidance of the Holy Spirit. I really did not know what to expect meeting Harold especially considering his physical condition. Even though I knew his twin brother John and another brother Henry, I was not aware of Harold’s existence or the circumstances surrounding his estrangement from the church.

I knew Harold’s brother John because some years before I was caring for a small mission congregation in Mission Viejo where John regularly attended. I got to know John quite well, but he never mentioned that he had a twin brother.

I also knew Harold’s brother, Henry, because he and his wife Ethel attended our Vista congregation form time to time. Henry and I had a deep friendship partly due to our roots in New Jersey and his knowledge of all my family there.

After my prayer, I exited the car and made my way to Harold’s room. I entered the room clad in my black suit white shirt and black tie. I greeted him like a long lost friend, “Harold!”

He looked at me surprised and responded, “Who are you?”

I answered, “I am Allan Musterer.”

Quickly and excitedly he said, “Sampson Street? Garfield, New Jersey Musterer?”

I said, “Yes, I am Eddie’s eldest son.”

Still excited he said, “You’re Eddie’s son! What are you doing here?”

I said, “I am a minister in the New Apostolic Church. As you are a member of the spiritual family, I felt compelled to visit you considering your terminal illness and imminent passing.”

Harold rather forcefully responded, “Let me tell you why I don’t come to church, and haven’t done so for all these years.”

With that pronouncement, Harold proceeded to tell me his story.

When Harold was about 7 or 8 years old, he and his family lived in Garfield, New Jersey on the same street as many of our church families including many of my family. He and his brothers often went to play at the Pump House, the nickname kids gave to Dahnert’s Lake, a large pond at the end of the street. One Saturday Harold and his brothers were doing just that when some bullies came by and gave the boys a hard time. One of them started pushing Harold around and pushed him into the pond at the deepest end. Since none of the boys could swim, Harold floundered and quickly submerged not once but twice. Gripped in fear of death as he went under the second time, Harold believed he would never come up again.

Harold’s twin brother John at their house on Sampson Street early 2000’s

As Harold related this part of his story, I found myself feeling very close to him. I pictured this incident he described clearly because years after Harold’s days there, I lived just a few blocks away from where Harold did. I too played at the Pump House all year round, so I was able to relate to his story with familiarity and empathy.

The “Pump House” in Garfield, New Jersey

Harold continued his story.

Since none of the boys could swim, it was fortunate an adult nearby saw what was happening and ran to rescue Harold. He successfully pulled Harold from the water and saved his life. A grateful Harold, wet and dirty, shook and trembled in fear as he stood surrounded by his brothers. The man who rescued him urged him to return home immediately so he could get dry and cleaned up.

Still rattled by his near death trauma Harold ran home with his brothers. As they travelled homeward, Harold thought, “When I get home my mother is going to be so happy that I didn’t drown she’s going to welcome me with open arms and a motherly hug.”

Harold’s parents were more financially endowed than the other church members. They were a joyfully generous family and invited families from church for Saturday dinner and Sunday lunch. Such was the case this particular Saturday. Harold’s mother was busily preparing Saturday’s dinner in the kitchen while the boys were out playing.

Harold reached home with high expectations of his mother’s warm welcome, considering the harrowing experience he suffered facing death by drowning just moments before. To Harold’s surprise, when his mother saw him all wet and dirty, she immediately reprimanded him and sent him to the bathroom to wash up and get dressed. After all, they were having guests for dinner very soon and she had work to do. Without another word she immediately went back to work preparing the evening meal.

Harold was shattered. He felt unloved, blaming his mother for not hugging him and welcoming him home. He blamed the church because his mother seemed to love the members more than him. He made up his mind that as soon as he was old enough, he was leaving family and church behind and going alone into the world.

The unfolding story gripped my senses; I silently prayed and asked my heavenly Father, “Please give me something positive to say to Harold, considering his experience and his near term death?”

I listened intently as Harold finished his story. He was exhausted and gazed teary eyed and expectantly into my eyes. I began speaking words that surely were heaven sent, for I spoke of things I did not know.

I said, “Harold! Consider this: Your whole adult life has been a long series of joyfully generous help and support for those who were in need, those who you helped. Someone came to you out of work and you gave them a job. Someone was living with their family in their car and you put them into a motel till they regained their footing. Another was about to lose their house and you made a mortgage payment. They all were in need of work, of money, of health, of encouragement. People who came into your life with needs and you stepped up and graciously and effectively fulfilled them! The pain of your disappointment in childhood created a heart of generous charity. You became what your mother and father lived! What a wonderful example your life has become! To all those people you were a blessing.”

Harold sat there in his bed, eyes wide open, mouth agape.

“Wow!” he exclaimed, “I never saw it that way!”

The tears rolled down his face as I stood there surprised at what I had just said. I had no knowledge of his life after his story ended.

I said, “Harold, would you like to pray together? I can pronounce to you the Absolution and we can celebrate Holy Communion together if you would like.”

He said, “Really? We can do that?”

I said, “Yes we can.”

Graciously he accepted my offer.

I prayed a short prayer and then together Harold and I prayed the Lord’s Prayer. I pronounced the Absolution, consecrated the elements and we celebrated Holy Communion. I offered the benediction and thanked God for the experience we shared.

We spoke a while afterward and I prayed with Harold one last time before I left.

A few days later, the priest from Anaheim visited Harold. He asked the priest to conduct his funeral service. Shortly thereafter Harold passed on. The priest conducted the funeral a few days after Harold passed on.

After the funeral the priest called me with an amazing story. He said that following Harold’s funeral service, all manner of people who attended testified of how Harold saved them from the tragic circumstances of their life. Each explained details matching those I had enumerated to Harold in his hospital room that Wednesday afternoon. What a testimony of the truth of my words to Harold in response to his story. Surely it was God who answered my prayer and Harold’s need to reconcile.

Turning Point

Reflecting on this experience, I realized how devastating a misunderstanding can be on the life of a child. Harold was shattered by a misunderstanding. His mother had no idea what trauma her son had suffered; neither did she know his expectations. Her conduct was not a deliberate act to cause her son pain or disappointment. Harold never said a word to his mother until many years later, carrying the cross of misunderstanding for years. Years of pent up anger were suffered before he reconciled with his mother.

We can see how such disappointing moments can cause deep hurt. But a different view, in this case only in long distance retrospect, can show that even painful moments can have a significant blessing on one’s life. Harold’s life became defined by the pain of his disappointment and caused him to reject family and church. Yet, his character was defined by this moment and he became a gracious, kindhearted and sensitive man. He was a real blessing to many people and families.

There are circumstances that may not allow for us to replace a misunderstanding with understanding. Sometimes the situation cannot be resolved as with Harold and his mother. My turning point was the realization that we are better served if we learn to look past the pain of the moment, and see how the event can prove to be a blessing. Then we can leave the pain and its burden behind us and glory in the benefits of the blessing.

A Father Remembers

I was invited to attend the funeral service for a courageous young teenager who battled heart disease all her life until it tragically took her life.

I arrived at the church to find it overflowing with mourners. People of every age and ethnicity were there, grieving over the loss of a very special person who had obviously deeply touched them.

During the service, everyone who spoke had glowing words of praise as they each honored this extraordinary girl. Each person made an impression on me but one stood out to the point that it changed my perspective. I was deeply touched by the testimony offered by her father in his eulogy. It was for me a turning point.

He explained that in certain areas of the country, differing phrases are used to describe a person that has died. In some places he explained, one says “they passed” or they “passed away”. But where he came from one said “they passed on”.

The grieved father proceeded to explain what his precious daughter had “passed on” to him, enumerating all her extraordinary qualities and virtues. With a delicate choice of words, this father provided to the assembled mourners an exquisite description of how all the little things she did that were prompted by her admirable character had deeply touched and changed his soul. Everyone sat in an absorbing silence as they joined me in taking in his moving speech.

Listening intently to the gripping testimony, I absorbed the essence of that father’s eulogy. I began to look differently at all those who were a part of my life.

In the days that followed, I searched my list of departed relatives, friends, teachers, co-workers, church members and specifically those whose funerals I had conducted over the years. As I considered each one over time, I explored what they had passed on to me. The treasures discovered were myriad. The effect of my investigation looking through the prism of my new perspective caused me to appreciate more deliberately what was “passed on” to me by those I have had in my life up till today.

Such vision created a new appreciation for those who blessed my life each day. The good people in our life who so effectively made my life better.

In the midst of these deliberations I recalled what I wrote in greeting cards I made for friends in celebration of their special days. I included the following in their cards:

Good people will be remembered as a blessing. . . . Proverbs 10:7
~
Celebrations are Memorial Days – the bookmarks of our lives,
When we pause to re-read the wonderful good parts,
And wonder what comes next!
These are perfect times to pause and remember
Those extraordinarily special souls in our lives . . .
The wonderful people we thank God for always . . .
The thoughtful, caring people who have profoundly touched our lives
As few can . . .

Returning to these words, I found that when I looked at life through the prism of what is “passed on” to me by others, I became a more grateful person, honoring God’s marvelous choice of people He brings into my life to make it so blessed.

Turning Points

Those few moments at the funeral, listening to a grieving father recounting the treasures passed on to him by his daughter, was a turning point for me. It gave me a new perspective.

Since that day, whenever I have the privilege to serve at a funeral or conduct a funeral service, I share this treasured perspective with those that mourn. Even when I serve at an abandoned baby’s funeral in the Garden of Innocence, I focus on what that unknown child “passes on” to me in those moments when I cradle them in their casket in my arms.

In another perspective, I now am more sensitive to what I “pass on” to those in my life. It is my hope that they are treasures just as valued as those I have received.

I Want To Be A Veterinarian

When my son Randy was about to enter high school, I decided it was time to encourage him to seriously consider what profession he wanted to pursue. His mother and I planned for him to go to college and it was our intention to provide the financial support for his education. From my own experience, I knew that the sooner one decided on the profession they wanted to embrace, the sooner they would effectively prepare for it.

One day while driving together, I said, “Randy, in a few weeks you’ll be starting high school. Now is the time for you to make an important decision. What career do you want to make for yourself? I don’t want to push you into anything. It is your decision and I will support whatever career you choose. I will however, suggest that doctors make a good living and dermatologists don’t get emergency calls in the middle of the night.”

Shortly after our talk, Randy came to me and announced that he wanted to be a veterinarian. I applauded him on choosing such a noble profession. Considering his love for animals and his ability to easily relate to them, this was not a surprise.

I said, “Randy, you have chosen well. Now you need to ride your bike around town to find a veterinarian clinic and get a job there after school so you can witness firsthand the day to day activity of a veterinarian in an animal clinic.”

Randy agreed and over the next week he visited a number of local animal clinics. At the dinner table one evening he said, “Well dad, I visited a few clinics like you said, but this is not going to work out.”

I inquired, “Why is that?”

He said, “Because they don’t pay. They only take volunteers. They don’t even pay college students.”

Understanding that on weekends and holidays Randy had been working on fishing boats as a deckhand and making a good income, it was natural that he expected to be paid.

After some thought, Carol said, “Randy, just pick the clinic you would like to work at, volunteer there and we will pay you minimum wage for the hours you work.”

Randy chose to work at the Center Veterinary Clinic in Mira Mesa a few blocks from the high school. The next day he signed up there as a volunteer. He worked for a few hours after school on Tuesdays and Thursdays. It was great experience and he really enjoyed the work and training he received. After about three weeks, Randy told us that he was hired and now getting paid.

Since this turn of events didn’t fit in with the report Randy gave us previously, I decided to contact the vet at the clinic to understand what had happened. I called and left a message with the clinic and soon after I received a call from the vet.
I said, “I’m Randy’s dad, and he just told us that you have hired him. I was under the impression that clinics only took volunteers who were not paid. How is it that you have hired my son?”

The doctor said, “Do you know what Randy is doing in our clinic?”

I said, “Yes, he works there every Tuesday and Wednesday after school.”

The doctor said, “You don’t know the half of it. Randy has been coming in on Mondays and Wednesdays as well to witness our surgeries and other more complex procedures. With such a passionate interest in the profession, I just felt I had to support him. That’s why I hired Randy.”

Randy enjoyed his work at the clinic and gained valuable knowledge from his experience. In his senior year Randy at Mira Mesa High School, he was accepted at California Polytechnic University in San Luis Obispo. He was accepted into their Pre-Vet Animal Science curriculum. This course of study was designed to prepare the student for Vet school after graduation.

High School Graduation

Randy studied at Cal Poly where, like most California State Universities, it took 5 years to finalize his education and earn his bachelor’s degree. We discovered that it extremely difficult to get accepted into graduate school for veterinary medicine. In fact, partly due to the very few available spaces in the veterinary doctorate programs, it is easier to get into medical graduate school.

Cal Poly Graduation

Although Randy did not get accepted into a graduate veterinary school after graduation, he used his degree from Cal Poly to secure a position as a cancer research scientist in pharmaceutical research. True to his character as displayed in his younger years, whenever he faced a challenge, he rose to take it on with unflappable grace and fore thought. This equipped him to make wise and deliberate decisions that lead him to opportunities for personal growth, career and business success, and ultimately making him a person of value.

Randy, Carol and Canaan
(His future business partner)

He was first employed by a small pharmaceutical research company in Silicon Valley. There he learned some valuable lessons and made strong professional acquaintances that prepared him for the future. His career in animal research focusing on cures for cancer and influenza some of the most prestigious pharmaceutical companies in California’s Silicon Valley. (See The Snake Challenge – February 2016; The Car Challenge – March 2016; A Father’s Advice – March 2016)

Turning Points

This turning point in Randy’s life set the stage for opening two doors for his future. The first was his career in cancer research. This career placed him in the unique environment of Silicon Valley. His cancer research jobs provided the elevated income levels needed for him to thrive in the high cost of living in this high tech area of California.

The second aspect of this turning point uniquely positioned Randy to follow his dream of one day becoming a sushi chef and owning his own restaurant. The time at Cal Poly allowed Randy to explore clever ways to feed the sushi cravings he developed while working as a teenager on the fishing boats in San Diego. This in turn allowed him to establish a circle of fellow classmates who also loved sushi and in particular enjoyed the fruits of Randy’s developing expertise in designing and making creative sushi rolls. When Randy graduated and began working in Silicon Valley, he found sushi restaurants to fill his sushi needs and friends from Cal Poly followed him there. Eventually he got a part time job as a sushi chef and “Sushi Randy”, as he became known, expanded the scope of fans beyond the college acquaintances.

When the time was right, Randy and his business partner found the perfect location and business climate to open a sushi restaurant in the heart of Silicon Valley, downtown Campbell. The unique restaurant was the perfect fit at the perfect time and supported by his loyal followers became known as the best in the Silicon Valley. (Ref: www.SushiConfidential.com)

The initial disappointments Randy experienced along the way were actually turning points that guided his course for him to embrace his purpose. Surely, the best is yet to come.

In many ways, Randy’s turning points were also my turning points as I witnessed how they precluded me from being able to spare him from those disappointments. I could only be there to encourage and support. Sometimes, that is the best a parent can and yes, should do.

Zoey’s Apple Pie Miracle

In the decade of 1990’s, most of the Southeast Asian refugees who had joined our churches in the San Diego area left for California’s central valley. They settled in places like Porterville, Merced and Visalia where they helped establish numerous missions and congregations.

My ministry then moved to the care of a congregation in El Cajon, California. There I developed a special relationship with one of the children, a little girl named Zoey.

My connection to Zoey had a history. I had the honor of performing the wedding of her parents Greg and Dawn. I also had the privilege of giving Dawn the confinement blessing when she became pregnant with Zoey. Then I was blessed with the opportunity to perform Zoey’s Holy Baptism. These three events created a special connection. Zoey was very easy to love. She had certain sweetness about her and a personality that quickly captured my heart. Her smile was irresistible.

While Dawn was working, her mother Daylene cared for Zoey. It was always a special day for Zoey being cared for by her grandmother. Daylene always had some creative activity in store for Zoey when they were together. One of Daylene’s special talents was sewing, and creating unique clothes. Zoey was a benefactor of that talent along with the many other adventures the two shared on the days they spent together.

Exploring the yard around Daylene’s home in El Cajon was one of Zoey’s favorite activities. They revealed many creatures that fascinated Zoey’s young inquisitive mind. These were turning point moments for Zoey that created a love and fascination for God’s creatures. When Zoey grew older she had many interesting pets and set her sights on becoming a veterinarian.

Daylene’s creative talent and artistic pursuits allowed her creativity to flourish and naturally became a positive influence on young Zoey.

One particular day Daylene’s project was for her and Zoey to bake apple pies. The whole process from finding the recipe to gathering and preparing the ingredients was carefully followed by grandmother and granddaughter. For Zoey it was a new experience but one that would have unexpected and potentially tragic consequences.

The crust was fashioned in the pie pans and the apples were sliced just to the right shape and thickness. The sauce was assembled and the filling was carefully poured into the crust. Then the covering crust was placed on top. Prior to completing the assembly of the pie, the oven was adjusted to the proper settings and temperature and turned on. The completed pies were placed in the oven.
While the pies were in the oven Dawn arrived to pick up Zoey to take her home. After a few welcoming hugs, the moment came to check on the pies. When the oven was opened, one of them exploded and hot apple sauce flew out all over Zoey’s face!

Immediately Dawn embraced her daughter and reached for a wet dish cloth from the kitchen counter. She put it over Zoey’s red and scalded face. After a few moments she removed it, and to her great relief she saw Zoey’s face showing no evidence of the terrifying event. No blisters, no redness, nothing, as if the flying hot apple pie filling never happened.

A grateful mother and grandmother thanked God for this amazing miracle. Then Dawn called me to share the happy outcome. I joined the three of them thanking and praising God for His gracious miracle and the protection He provided for this special little girl.

Turning Points

Aside from the obvious turning points this experience reveals for Zoey, it was also a turning point for me. As the minister caring for the congregation family, daily prayers for them was a part of my joyful serving. An event as this justified the importance and revealed the consequences of prayerful intercession for those I loved and served. Once again there was reinforcement of Solomon’s Recipe (See “Solomon’s Recipe” posted March 2015) and it’s guidance to “trust in the Lord” and “in all things acknowledge Him”.

When we can experience the blessing of a faithful prayer answered in ways that go beyond human explanation, a profoundly grateful heart is edified. A grateful soul is a happy soul.

The Sermon to Sleep Through

In my youth, I suffered as most from an intense fear of speaking in front of a group of people. The worst week of the year was the second week of December when our Sunday school had a Christmas program on the second Sunday evening. The program consisted of each of the Sunday school children reciting a poem from memory in front of the 300 church members. I spent the week before the program in agonizing fear and trepidation.

In elementary school I had to orally present book reports in front of the class. Those experiences were also very traumatic for me.

These fears created in me a deep respect for my teachers and the ministers in church because they had overcome that fear which I believed they also had to battle. For them it was a battle they had won and I had yet to master. In my youth, I could not yet imagine being successful in that battle.

My Church in Clifton, NJ

One Sunday evening when I was in my early teens, I attended a church service with my parents and younger brother. We arrived at church and my father parked our car in the church parking lot that was located in the back of the church.

Just as we arrived, the minister who was to conduct the service was just exiting his car. He walked toward the church and on the way greeted four men who were standing at the end of the parking lot. They were about the same age as my father. The minister was about twenty feet ahead of me on his way to the entry of the rectory.

As I passed by the four men I overheard one of them say to the others, “Well, I guess we can sleep though this one.”

These words pierced me deeply. It hurt me because I had such great respect for this minister. He was able to do what I never dreamed I would ever be able to do; speak in front of a large group. These men seemed to only judge the quality of his delivery and its content, but disregarded his courageous efforts to overcome the fear of speaking to a crowd.

I entered the church as never before. My mind was set on a personal mission. I was going to get so much out of the service that it would make whatever sacrifice the minister made that evening to serve the congregation worthwhile .

I marched into church, passed the offering box and emptied my pocket with all the money I had. It was probably seventy five cents, fifty cents more than my usual offering. Then I made straight for my seat next to my cousin just behind the choir.

Seated, I bowed my head prayed like never before. I pleaded sincerely with God to help me extract from the service so much as to make the efforts of the minister worthwhile, even if no one else in the whole congregation got anything from the service.

The service soon commenced and the minister began the sermon. The more it progressed the more disappointed I became. The minister, an immigrant from Europe, had a mild accent, spoke in a monotone and used a rather limited vocabulary. On top of that his grammar left much to be desired. But what troubled me was that he never seemed to complete a thought. One by one he would raise a thoughtful statement and suddenly drop it and go on to another. I couldn’t get anything that I could reasonably say made sense of any of it.

Anger seethed in me. After all I did that I thought would ensure a positive outcome, offering all I had, praying sincerely, I now had to face failing the minister. Worse was the sense that I was seemingly justifying the attitude of those four men.

When the service was over, I was filled with deep disappointment, anger and betrayal. I immediately left the church. I ran to the parking lot and got into the back seat of our car.

When my brother and parents entered the car soon after I did. My mother knew something was wrong. I politely repelled her inquiry as to what was wrong. When we returned home, I went right to bed, skipping dinner with the family.

In bed I railed against God, rebuking Him for failing my humble, sincere and noble request. I was so sure that what I attempted to do was so right. Why did my God not respond? After some time of ranting silently in my prayer of frustration, I lay there in silence and calm, exhausted by the experience.

In the silence, I suddenly heard again the first of the many “thoughts” raised in the sermon but dropped by the minister. This time, however, the thought continued to evolve through to its completion. I lay there in awe as I processed the amazing result. As soon as I realized this explanation and a new understanding entered my soul, the next thought from the sermon came to mind.

Just as with the first, this next thought continued on to a revealing conclusion. The revelation of these developed thoughts from the sermon profoundly touched my soul. I prayed a prayer of thanksgiving, but did not yet realize what a turning point this would prove to be for me.

The next day, and for some days thereafter, as I walked to school another of the sermon’s thoughts arose in my mind. Just as they did that Sunday night in my bed, they continued through to a glorious conclusion.

It took some time for me to realize what I had learned by this experience and to fully appreciate the turning point that it was for me and my future life experiences.

Turning Point

As the years unfolded, I discovered the turning point that this experience was and the treasure it became for my life. These are some of the treasures that came out of this turning point:
• When I attended service from this point on, I was able to gain great value even when the quality of the delivery by a minister was not perfect. I learned that my work with God and His Spirit came not only during but after the sermon in the time I gave Him to guide and inspire my thoughts.
• When I attended college, there was no church of my denomination within reasonable distance for me to attend. Visiting the local churches in the small college town, though interesting, did not fulfill my spiritual hunger. Equipped with the knowledge and understanding afforded by this experience, I was able to gain spiritual sustenance from transcripts of divine services in our church that were sent to me. I would spend hours on Sunday mornings studying those transcripts, a fact that surprised even me. However, through the preparation provided from my turning point, I gained understanding, confidence and strength in my pursuit of spiritual maturity.
• Years later when I was a minister, I was able to use this experience relating it to a family who had trouble accepting a particular minister who served them in their congregation. It proved to provide them a different perspective that helped them maintain their spiritual compass. (After that evening, I realized that I had never forgiven those four men for their attitude. I understood that God had used their weakness to bless me with a life lesson that required their participation. I sat in my car that night and prayed, seeking their forgiveness as they were all deceased by that time)
• Some years later, the highest minister in our church was quoted as saying, “No divine service is a matter of course; each is extraordinary.” In light of my turning point experience I realized there are three parts to the sermon, God’s input as creator, the minister’s input as the conveyor, and my “input” as the listener. God’s part is always extraordinary and perfect. The minister’s not always extraordinary or perfect. But I have the opportunity to make mine extraordinary if I am willing to seek and give the Holy Spirit time to guide me and reveal even what wasn’t said in the sermon.

A Father’s Advice – Getting Known

My son Randy wanted to make his career in veterinary medicine. It was not surprising to his mother and me as he loved animals from his early childhood. Randy was in high school when we suggested that he work at a local veterinary clinic. Randy searched around our neighborhood and found one particular veterinary clinic appealing. He inquired regarding employment and was told that they only take volunteers as interns without pay.

Randy told us that night at the dinner table that he didn’t think it would work at the clinic because they didn’t pay. Carol quickly offered to pay Randy minimum wage for every hour he volunteered. That sounded good so Randy applied and was accepted as a volunteer. To our surprise, after a few weeks he was hired at the clinic because of the intense interest he showed in the practice.

Following graduation from Mira Mesa High School, Randy attended Cal Poly in San Luis Obispo where he worked to earn a B.S. degree specializing in Pre-Vet Animal Science. However, after graduation he was unable to gain acceptance into the UC Davis veterinary program. His plan now had to change and find a new direction.

Randy found an opportunity to fulfill his passion for working with animals in an unexpected form, pharmaceutical cancer research. He accepted a position at a small pharmaceutical research firm in Menlo Park, California – Sequus Pharmaceuticals, Inc.

In June 1995, Randy was leaving home to begin his professional career at Sequus; I wanted to give him some fatherly advice. My purpose was to give him encouragement, confidence and successful thinking. History and experience told me that there were some very crucial things to understand starting out in the business world with hope to be successful. Most of these were learned by my own retroactive deliberations on what happened in my career in the business world.

Sequus Pharmaceuticals, Inc. Menlo Park, CA

I said to Randy, “Build an impeccable reputation because that is what people with think and speak of you when you are not around.”

I wanted Randy to realize that reputation was crucial. Reputation was what people thought of you as true: your character, your integrity, your honesty and your loyalty. Reputation was what others would think of you when you are not around. I wanted my son to be very much aware of this truth because it was under his control; it was in his hands to create it. Absolutely essential was purposeful building the truth. Any deception eventually would be revealed.

I told Randy, “Son, you need to find a way to let everyone in the company from the janitor to the CEO know what you are doing to contribute to the success of the company.”

I wanted him to realize that he must be known by the key leaders in the company. They needed to know him. Not just his name, but what he was contributing to the company and its future success. And they needed to know the details, not some “broad brush” understanding, but an in-depth, “nitty gritty”, fine point awareness of his talent and skill and the application thereof to the mission of the organization.

Finally I told him, “I have purchased shares of stock in the company where you will be working. I know you will make a difference in its success!”

I wanted my son to know I was fully confident in his success and that of the team with whom he was soon to be an integral and contributing part. I made an investment in the company and thereby an investment in him.

These fatherly words of advice resulted in some interesting decisions by Randy. Upon completion of the orientation activities on day one, Randy was provided with a computer and an office. He was assigned an e-mail address and a company roster with e-mail addresses.

He immediately set forth putting a plan into motion. Randy began e-mailing everyone in the company a letter of introduction he had penned expressing his delight in working for the company. At the end of the letter, he inquired as to their favorite leisure time activities and what they liked to do with their families. He received a very high percentage of responses from the staff. Upon review, Randy noticed that two things “stuck out”; picnics and volleyball.

Flood Park – Menlo Park, CA

Randy set out investigating the local area and found a park near the office that also had a number of volleyball courts. Over the next days, Randy planned out an “un-official” company family picnic featuring a volleyball venue and potluck lunch at Flood Park. He then made a reservation at the park for a Saturday a few weeks in the future. Randy invited all the company staff and their families to attend the Saturday program.

Volley Ball Court at Flood Park

It was a great success with a very high percentage turnout. The company CEO was so impressed with the high turnout he inquired of Randy’s boss, “I have been trying unsuccessfully to get something like this to work for our company. Who pulled this off?”

She replied, “Our new hire, Randy. Would you like to meet him?”

During the subsequent conversation, the CEO asked Randy to assist with planning and organizing the company’s annual winter dinner party.

Sequus Laboratory Facility

Randy at work in the lab.

The stock in the company rose considerably until the company was sold. I made a substantial profit in my IRA account with my investment in the company, but more importantly, Randy put into practice the principles of business I had shared with him and he reaped his own rewards. Constantly open to learning from his experience propelled Randy to a successful career.

It is interesting to note that while investigating Stanford University’s renowned and highly rated MBA program, I discovered they require a substantial essay from three high level executives of the company where a candidate is employed. The essay must describe in fine detail the work the candidate is performing for the company. The requirement necessitates the executive to be intimately aware of the candidate’s work. This was for me a confirmation of the validity of my counsel to Randy to become known to the staff at the firm.

Randy’s career in cancer and influenza research continued to develop as he contributed at a number of research companies in both technical and social arenas. Ultimately he was part of teams that gained national recognition in their field of expertise.

Some Lessons to consider:

• It is critical to have a plan and purpose at the very onset of employment in a chosen career. From day one you will be fashioning your reputation. It will be in your hands and the product of your performance over time. Your consistent behavior, conduct, decisions, etc. will create in the minds and hearts of those around you, the person that you are.
• It is important that the decision makers, the executives, know who you are and what you are doing. They need to know details. Your excellence will attract their attention and interest in you and your career. Their power will help promote you to get what you deserve and have earned.
• A well devised plan, executed with skill and determination, will eventually open the door to your success. Resourcefulness and creativity are assets that are important to develop.
• A good reputation is essential to any career. It is an unwritten resume that has a way of following one around. Once created, it is very difficult to change. A good reputation that speaks to one’s integrity and admirable character becomes an invaluable asset along life’s journey.

Turning Points

This experience taught me the value a parent can be to their children through wise counsel and sincere encouragement. Acknowledging your child’s doing the right things and offering sincere and detailed praise can make the difference between success and failure.

Following up on offered counsel and encouragement with prayerful intersession must not be under estimated.