June 2016 – The Turning Points of Life

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.