Saved A Princess From A Dragon Once

There was no front to this place. You had to drive around to the loading docks to get in. The giant building had long been abandoned by its original occupants, and now had found a second life as a super-sized indoor flea market serving the south. I was in my twenties and finally decided that cinder blocks and one by sixes, could no longer count as furniture. It was time to grow up a little and decorate my living space. I was at the flea market hoping to find some native-american craftwork that might suit my needs.

The size of the place was daunting, with aisle, after aisle, after aisle of every kind of merchandise imaginable. I was deciding if it might be a good idea to leave a trail of bread crumbs back to the car, when I looked up and found I was standing in front of a place that specialized in native-american crafts. Just what I was looking for/wont need the bread crumbs.

This was no flea market grade craft shop. In a sea of velvet Elvis paintings and homemade candles, was this oasis of art. There were paintings, and baskets, and artisan depictions. There was also a large selection of ceramic bowls and vases, that were being handcrafted on-sight. I wondered through the shop awhile, and ended up near the back, watching one of the artists hand-paint clay figurines that had already been fired in the kiln. He was a burley man, and surly artist. I soon sensed that he didn’t much like being watched when he worked. Fair enough. I probably wouldn’t like it either.

I started on my way when I noticed a clay statuette, laying on a cooling rack beside him. It was a simple, but graceful, elegant depiction of a native-american lady in a fine white, and black, and turquoise shroud-like garment. I had no reason for thinking it, but it seemed to me she was a princess. Maybe ten inches high, the lady stands with her head bowed, eye’s closed, and her hands folded beneath her chin in prayer. There is a necklace with a cross on it, intertwined in her fingers. A rosarie perhaps. The only details you see, are of her face and her hands. The rest is a blanket that she has wrapped around herself, to protect from the cold as she prays. It was a blanket, but it was easy to see the resemblance it had to wings protectively wrapped around her.

There wasn’t anything extraordinary about the piece. It was rather plain and unadorned in fact. But I liked it. Thought it might be nice to have an indian princess praying over me at home. So I asked the artist how much it was. He begrudgingly smuffled the price at me at having interrupted him. I tried to hurry, and handed over my money. As I reached for the statue, however, the man grabbed it and tossed it in the garbage can.

I couldn’t have looked more startled and confused, but immediately he waved his hands to assure me it was okay. He said that this one was no good, it was broken, and that he would get me a good one from the back. We both kinda laughed. I glanced at the statuette in the waste basket one more time, wondering how I missed the imperfection, she looked fine to me. No matter, as long as I got a princess.

The painter started for the back room, when I asked for no reason whatsoever,….”So, what’s wrong with it?”. He answered back that she couldn’t stand up. Her base was flawed. As he said this he picked her out of the trash, and tried to stand her on the table to demonstrate. Sure enough, she leaned to one side. He looked back at me with a slight smile at having an artist’s eye, taking pride in looking out for his customer. He then went after another princess from the storeroom. When he returned, he took a moment to point out the craftmanship of the new statue, cradling it in both hands as he showed me it’s details. He then carefully wrapped it up in paper, before putting it in a bag. I thanked him, and he smiled and nodded a “you’re welcome”, as I left.

I made it all the way to Persian rugs and spices before I stopped. If there would have been anything else wrong with her;……a botched paint job, or maybe she was cracked coming out of the kiln. Something else, anything else,…..I would have been fine. It would have been nothing more than a mass-produced, clay figurine. But she wasn’t. She was an Indian Princess, that had trouble with her legs. She couldn’t stand. It wasn’t her fault. She was just made that way. I shifted my braces to get a better stance, leaned comfortably against my crutches, and prayed;…”So, what’s that got to do with me Lord?”. We laughed, and I was off to save a Princess.

I had been standing there a moment, not quite knowing what to say, before the shop artist even noticed me. It was his turn to look startled and confused. For the life of me, I couldn’t think of how to begin. So, I just blurted out that I wanted the Princess in the trash can. There was some awkward silence, and he explained again that it was no good. I could tell he was even a little offended that I would come back in and ask for such a thing. I told him that I knew it sounded crazy, I agreed with him. It was ridiculous. I then nodded at my own condition, and the most obvious reason for such a request. A crippled guy on crutches and braces can’t be turning down an Indian Princess willing to pray over him night and day, just because she has a little trouble standing. That’s gotta be some kinda sin.

I expected that he would fully understand, but for whatever reason, he didn’t get it. He told me no. At this point I was getting a bit anxious about her. I was afraid I was too late. That maybe she had broken when she was tossed in the trash. Or maybe he really wasn’t going to let me have her.

I placed the carefully wrapped princess in the shopping bag on the counter, and slid it toward him. He was miffed by this and sternly told me that he would NOT discount the statue, because he offered to the point of insistence, that I take a perfect one. I realized then that we both wanted the same thing. He wanted me to respect the value of his work. To validate his perfect creation. That I could understand. So I emptied my pockets on the counter. I then put every dime I had on me, on the table between us. It came to a little more than twice her original price. I didn’t say anything, but I did take a deep and relieving  breathe.

The tension left us both and he handed me the crippled Princess, with a peace-offering,… “If it means that much to you, I want you to have her. Keep your money kid.”. I thanked him for the offer, but insisted he keep the money. When he asked me why, I remembered a line from the movie “The Commitments”, and told him as I was leaving “If I take the money back, the ending is too predictable. This way, it’s poetry.”.

And the Indian Princess?

A little felt under one side of her base, and she stood straight and tall. Been prayin’ over me for close to twenty years now.

Someone’s Huckin’ Stone’s From A Parallel Universe

 

I’m not sure it would qualify as a major milestone in my life, but it wouldn’t be stretching things to say that it was a pretty big deal.

The church youth group was having a gathering at the youth minister’s house after Sunday night services, and I was being asked to attend. The evening was to include pizza, music, and some time to talk about God. It was a big deal because I was still a little young for this particular youth group. It was for the older, high school aged youth. I was still in junior high, but the youth minister thought I would enjoy myself, and asked my mom if I could attend anyway.

I could tell that my mom was a little worked up as she drove me to the gathering. I think it was just natural anxiety from watching her boy enter the next chapter of his life. Heck, I had a few butterflies myself. I was about to hang out with the high school kids for the first time. A lot of very important social issues (to an eighth grader anyway) were hanging in the balance, and my hair wasn’t “doing right”. This could be a problem. As I got out of the car, mom smiled and assured me that no one would even notice.

It was exactly what you would expect. Way too many teenagers, crammed into way too small of a space. Everyone eating, laughing and talking, and all at the same time. Any fears I had were soon forgotten, as everyone there was nice to me, and made it a point to include me in whatever was going on. I couldn’t have asked for better, so I  relaxed and had fun.

After the pizza disappeared, everyone gathered in the biggest room of the house for some music. We all sang, while the youth minister and a couple of others, played guitars. After several songs, the youth minister took over and settled everyone down for a message. It was an appropriate topic about faith in God, and the invincibility of youth. He spoke about how easy it is to have faith in God, when life is going good. When life, and everything in it, seems to be yours for the taking. The times when you feel like nothing truly bad would ever happen to you. He told us that during times like that, it was easy to stand with your chin held high and talk about your faith in God.

But what about the times when life isn’t so easy? The youth minister switched gears and asked us to think for a moment about what kind of faith we might have when difficulties came our way. He volunteered one of the seniors and asked how it might affect their life and faith in God, if for example they were stricken by polio and could no longer walk, “…like Jay over there.”.

It startled me a little to hear my name, but I remained quiet and waited for an answer like everyone else. The boy didn’t speak right away. It was a big question and he wanted to respectfully be sure of his thoughts before answering. The room was dead silent. Most, waiting to hear what he had to say, but all glad that they weren’t the one picked to answer.

After an admirable time of consideration, the young man spoke with humble honesty and said, ” If I had to live the rest of my life, like Jay;….I would kill myself.”

The room immediately nodded in agreement as the youth minister picked up his point with, “….see what I mean? Don’t let your faith in God be determined by…”, and on he went with the room full of people in the palm of his hand.

I was only in junior high school, and had completed maybe two science classes in seventh grade;……but clearly I had discovered the existence of an actual parallel universe.

In the one universe, a group of youth are listening to a soul altering, life affirming message about their faith in God. In the parallel universe there’s just me, sitting on the arm of the couch, with mouth agape and a confused look on my face while I muttered, ” Wait;…what now?”, far too late for anyone to notice.

You’re probably thinking that it was pretty painful to hear that a roomful of people would rather commit suicide, than to be me.  Well yea it was a shock, but there wasn’t a soul there that even remotely intended to hurt me. It was a lot to get my arms around though. I couldn’t believe the reality of it. Did I really hear that? I was in the process of convincing myself I didn’t hear, what I just heard, when the first of a long line of people approached, to compliment me on my faith. Yes, if the situation weren’t already surreal enough, I was now being patted on the back and admired by my fellow youth for my remarkable ability to,……ya know, not kill myself.       Wow.

I lived on the same planet, went to the same schools. and spoke the same language. Just didn’t exist in the same universe.

My mom picked me up when it was over, and she couldn’t wait to hear how everything went. I started to tell her, but thought better of it. My mom was a very smart person, but I knew she didn’t have an answer for this kind of thing. Who would? Maybe I was growing up, but I knew it would hurt her to know something like that happened, even if it didn’t hurt me. So when she gleefully asked how it went for me, I just told her that she was right. No one had noticed that my hair wasn’t “doing right”. She sighed with great relief that it was over, and that I was okay.

I stared at the stars on the ride home.

So we start from here.

The Death-Eyed, Saber-Toothed, Alabama Swamp Beast;…An Epiphany

We found numerous deer tracks, and a set of rabbit tracks. We even found some paw prints that with the help of two adolescent boys’ imaginations, were talked into being cougar tracks. The woods we were exploring did border a swamp, so it didn’t seem too far-fetched.

Were we hunting? Nehhh. It was Easter Sunday, and after scrambling out of our church clothes and in to our having fun clothes, the whole family had driven out to a secluded spot back in the woods for a picnic and Easter egg hunt. I was in junior high school, and was lucky enough to have my best friend Kim along for the day. Kim and I went to school together, where Kim played football, baseball, and basketball for our Tabor Tigers. It wouldn’t be too long before he and I started thinking about high school, but today was all about being boys and having fun in the woods.

While the picnic was being spread out, and Easter eggs hidden, Kim and I decided to go see if we could find some bear tracks. The chances of us finding bear tracks in these particular woods were in the “fat” category of chances. Well fat or not, it was a chance, and that was all we needed to believe. So with a reminder not to be gone too long from my mom, and a word of caution from my dad to be careful, we were off.

Daddy really didn’t need to worry about us. Kim and I both had some experience in the woods;….we both had been in boy scouts;…and we had both seen every episode of Daniel Boone on television (4PM weekdays after school). Priceless knowledge if we ran into any indians, or needed to split something with an ax. Yes, we set out to look for animal tracks, but we were boys, so we spent most of the time picking up stuff and throwing it at other stuff. Don’t try to make sense of it. It just happens. Pick something up, throw it at something else. Repeat.

We we enjoying our search, but of course lost track of time. Having found no bear tracks, we were heading back to the picnic, when we came upon a stand of tall swamp grass. Kim and I both thought we heard something moving, but the grass was too thick and tall to see anything. We both froze and went silent in hopes that a deer might step out in to the open. The rustling became more pronounced and obvious, but whatever it wa,s remained hidden.

Then there was a low growl. This instantly changed our mood. We were pretty sure that deer didn’t growl. Was it a wild dog, or a bobcat? Or was it worse? Had we stumbled onto something dangerous? A wild hog or even a real bear? We began to factor in our fear levels, to determine what animal might be menacing us from the tall grass. It went something like this. If we are pretty scared, we convince ourselves it’s a dog. If we’re really scared, then it’s probably a cougar. If terrified, then it’s a bear.

Without a warning a ferocious roar exploded into the air around us, and the tall grass shook violently from a warning charge in our direction. There was no mistake. According to our current fear levels, Kim and I had stumbled upon a Death-Eyed Saber-Toothed Alabama Swamp Beast. At least an eleven footer. Probably poisonous.

Now as faithful viewers, Kim and I could tell you that not once had Daniel Boone and Mingo ever run in to a Death-Eyed Saber-Toothed Alabama Swamp Beast on the show. To say that we were unprepared for this situation, was an understatement.

I quickly turned to Kim and screamed for him to, ” Go for Daddy.”,…..But Kim wasn’t there anymore. Kim wasn’t ANYWHERE anymore. The only hint I could find as to what happened, was a lingering cloud of dead skin flakes shaped like Kim in the spot where he was standing only a moment ago, and a smoke trail. I can only conclude that Kim knew that one of us had to go for help. He must have determined that being the fastest, he would take on that burden himself. I’m sure he wanted to talk it over with me but figured I would never let him risk himself that way. So selflessly, and without a word, Kim slipped away to run for help. A hero really.

God was that boy fast. I mean really fast. Why if he would have been running in the right direction………

All alone now, I turned to face the danger in the tall grass.

It was at that point that something unexpected happened. It wasn’t something physical, but rather something that happened in my mind. I was overwhelmed with what I can only describe as a clear understanding. It wasn’t “what” I understood that got to me so much. It was what it felt like to, understand. It was a full and complete understanding. I was having a realization. Which brings us to our subject for today………

The Epiphany

  The dictionary says that an epiphany is a moment of sudden, and intuitive understanding: a flash of insight. It says nothing about their size or shape. Nothing about why or how you get ’em. I’m facing the final moments of my life  before being eaten by a Death-Eyed Saber-Toothed Alabama Swamp Beast, and wouldn’t you know it, I think I’m coming down with an epiphany.

I can’t run.

  No, that’s my epiphany. I realized that I can’t run. I know it doesn’t sound like much as far as epiphanies go, but it really was one for me. It wasn’t that there was no place to run. There was. There were plenty of unobstructed directions for me to run as hard and as fast as I wanted to run. The reality was though, that I was on crutches and braces. That beast, any beast, would catch me without so much as an effort. I couldn’t run, and I couldn’t hide. These were not going to be options in my life.

  It may have been a small epiphany, but I knew God was speaking to me. He was telling me something about the rest of my life. I was going to face a lot of swamp beasts in my future. I needed to know that I couldn’t run from them. No matter how scary they may be, or no matter how vulnerable I might feel;…..you can’t run from it Jay. If it eats ya, it eats ya.

  I set my feet as firmly as I could, and drove my crutches into the dirt for maximum stability, and awaited whatever was coming out of that grass. I was too far away for him to hear, but I called as loud as I could for daddy one more time anyway, just in case. When I did, the growling stopped, the grass parted, and daddy came rushing out from the tall grass with regret in his eyes. He wanted to scare us, but had no intention of scaring us that much. I started laughing in wonderful relief. It took daddy a little longer. Once he knew I was fine, and swore never to scare anyone again, he laughed too. I think it was worse on him than it was on me.

  My dad still feels a twinge about scaring me and Kim that Easter, but it remains one of my favorite life stories. It was the epiphany. Not so much what it was, but more the astonishment that I had an epiphany at all. I learned what it was like to realize something. To hear God, and accept a truth. This had immeasurable value to me.

  If I asked a thousand people how they ended up with such successful, fulfilling, loving, nurturing, peaceful-souled lives;…..they would all tell me a different story, with very different paths. But one thing that they ALL will have in common, is that somewhere in the telling of that story you will hear the words, “….but then I realized…”.

  If I were to ask a thousand people how they ended up with broken, empty, bitter, unfulfilled and pointless lives;…..they too would tell me different stories with different paths taken. But at some point in the telling of each of their stories, you will hear the words, “…ya know, I just never realized…”.

Did you realize that?

Bonnie and My Bike Ride

Well, it started the way these things usually started. Someone hollered “…let’s ride bike’s…”, and instantly, kids scattered to the four corners to retrieve their bicycles.

Now, though subtle, there is a difference between “riding your bicycle”, and “ridin’ bike’s”. Riding your bicycle, is about getting from point A, to point B. When you’re “ridin’ bike’s”, however, it is an outdoor celebration of how much fun it is to ride a bicycle.

This day was for celebrating.

Bonnie, my oldest sister, was the first to return, so she casually rode her bike around while waiting on the others. Bonnie was a few years older than the rest of the kids. Old enough to be a babysitter for most. But Bonnie was in the prime of her bike riding years, and was unwilling to pass up a good bike ride, no matter how young her riding companions might be.

It wasn’t very long before everyone returned on their bikes with no two alike, and just naturally fell in line one after the other behind Bonnie. It was a bicycle version of follow-the-leader. Bonnie kept it casual. She would weave in and out of the white lines down the center of the road, or duck beneath low hanging branches and what-not, as her happy little ducklings gleefully followed her lead.

Bonnie was enjoying herself more than anyone. You could tell by the smile on her face, her hair in the wind, and the uncanny way she could blow bubbles while riding, and somehow not get gum on her face. It was impressive. Most of all she enjoyed everyone else, enjoying themselves. She liked to hear everyone laughing and squealing at every little thing. She liked to see their eyes light up when they did a trick, or tried something they may not have tried before. It made her happy.

After awhile, Bonnie noticed me watching everyone from our driveway. She coasted over, but didn’t say anything for a long time. She just stood there straddling her bike, and looking down at me like she was trying to figure something out.

Bonnie understood that her little brother had polio. She knew that it meant I couldn’t walk, and that I would have to wear crutches and braces the rest of my life. On this day though, it was hitting her hard how unfair it was. The joy of her ride drained from her face, as it dawned on her that I would never get to do that.

Though I was completely in the dark about what was happening, my big sister was about to pick a fight with polio. Maybe she couldn’t change the fact that I would never walk. Maybe she couldn’t change the fact that I had to wear crutches and braces the rest of my life. But on this day, she was by-god going to have a say about whether her little brother had a bike ride or not. Polio, or no polio.

Without saying a word, Bonnie reached down to pick me up. She wasn’t strong enough yet to lift me like an adult, and the braces added weight, so she wrapped her arms around me, and kinda dragged me up her body until I was high enough that she could get a better grip. Take that polio. Score one for big sister.

Then polio struck back. Bonnie couldn’t figure out how to unlock my braces, so that my legs would bend. This kept my legs rigid and straight, which made me heavy, unwieldy, and difficult to place on her bicycle. She tried putting me on the back, but the fender was too narrow, and too flimsy. She tried standing me on the middle bar. No dice. She then put me on the seat, and tried to stand up and ride from behind me. Almost killed us both.

At this point, polio was teaching my big sister a cruel lesson about the realities of life. She had tried everything she could think of to secure me to that bicycle, and nothing was working. She just wasn’t ready to admit defeat yet, so she stood there a minute, straddling her bike and holding me in her arms like she was carrying me across the threshold.

Now, I had no idea what was about to happen, but I distinctly remember a flash in Bonnie’s eyes, as the joy came rushing back. Apparently she remembered that little crippled brothers, were more “bend-y” than the regular kind, because without any perceptible hesitation, my loving big sister folded me like a pocket-knife, and stuffed me butt first into the basket hanging on the front of her handlebars. A wicker basket made for a school book, or a doll, or a jump rope. NOT a little brother.

It didn’t seem to concern her that my face was full of my knees, and my feet were above my head. I guess some sacrifices have to be made when a girl’s in a fight with polio.

Bonnie gripped the handlebars, drove her legs hard into the pedals, and we were off. Ohhhh glory. It was my first bike ride. The only person more thrilled about it than I was, was Bonnie. It was such a special thing, that when we reached Mockingbird Ln. where we were suppose to turn around, Bonnie just smiled and kept on going. Today we were going all the way around the block. Yea, we might get in trouble. She didn’t care.

We rode down Ravenwood, and Mockingbird, and even down Bruce street. People waved, and marveled, and laughed in amazement.

After awhile, I maneuvered my face around my knees so that I could see her. Bonnie’s long brown hair rose in the wind behind her like a super-heroes cape as she blew a giant bubble that eventually popped, but didn’t get in her hair;…….and she smiled,………and she winked at me.

I didn’t know there were people like that.

I Knew The Presence of God;…..He Was Trying Not To Snicker.

This is one of my favorite stories.

It’s a story about God’s creative approach in dealing with me as an individual, on a tricky matter. When all was said and done, it was abundantly clear how well he knew me, and how well He knew the best way to get His point across to me, as one of His children.

I can’t remember exactly how old I was. It was whatever age you are when adults have to get down on one knee, if they want to talk with you face to face. On this particular occasion, the adult on one knee, was a visiting preacher to our church.

The service was over and most of the congregation were making their way down front, to thank the man for coming. As the preacher shook the many hands, he spotted me standing on crutches and braces close to my father’s protection from the crowd. It was with the sincerest of intentions the preacher approached me. He walked up, knelt down on that one knee, took me by the shoulders, and loud enough for everyone to hear, began to speak.

He said that I wouldn’t always be like this. That someday I would be in heaven, and there receive a brand new body. A body with legs that worked. He said I would one day walk in heaven.

Now everyone was quite blessed by it all, as well they should have been. It struck me different though. Of course I loved the idea of everything that he said, but it was hard for me not to feel the sadness of having to wait seventy or eighty years, before I got to be like everybody else. I felt the weight of never being normal in this lifetime. Never equal. Never with the same chances as everyone else. It was troublesome to me.

That night I had a dream. A very vivid dream.

I dreamed that I was on the ground, in front of the gates of heaven. No crutches, no braces. As I was trying to orient myself, a voice like you hear in Charlton Heston movies, called my name. It said to rise and walk. I looked down, and right before my eyes I watched muscles form and grow on my legs.

I could walk.

Immediately I thanked God with all my heart;….and then asked to be excused. I wasn’t trying to be disrespectful. I simply didn’t want to wait another minute to show my family and friends that I could walk. I asked God that if it were alright with Him, then might I go and find them. He laughed and said it was fine, and off I went. Running through the streets of heaven on my search, hollering like a crazy person with joy.

It wasn’t long before I spotted a large group of my family and friends gathered on a street corner. I bounced and ran up to them full of happiness and freedom, crying out, “Hey everyone. It’s me, Jay. Can you believe it? The day is finally here. I can walk. Not only can I walk, but I can run, I can dance, I can jump up and down if I want too. Can you believe it?? Finally, after all of this time, after all these years, I am just like you..”.

Everyone patted me on the back with love and congratulations, and each saying how great it was to hear such news.

Then after a moment, they took a step back and collectively gave me a look and a little smile that said without words, how happy they were for me. What a beautiful moment.

That’s when they unfolded their giant wings…………..

…………and flew away.

I knew the presence of God;………He was trying not to laugh.