KIDS SAY THE DARNDEST THINGS

Art Linkletter used to do a segment called, “Kids Say the Darndest Things.” (And indeed, they do).

Speaking of “the darndest things,” I love the Victorian novel and movie renditions of “Jane Eyre.” As the story gets underway Mr. Brockelhurst, an outwardly religious, but cruel school master, challenges Jane with,

“What is Hell?”

To which the little waft responds,

“A pit full of flaming fire.”

At which time Mr. Brockelhurst follows up with,

“And what must you do to avoid it?”

Jane studies the question for a moment, and exclaims,

“I must keep in good health… and not die!”

Yes, kids say the darndest things. My children were no exception.

Once, when my family and I were visiting my parent’s house, my three year old daughter made a decision to put aside her coloring book, in favor of my mother’s living room wall. Kimberly was well on her way to leaving her mark there, when my mom happened to observe her colorful meanderings, and scolded her.

“Kimberly, you’re making a mess of my walls! What do you think you’re doing?”

To which she responded,

“Gwanma, I just a little girl!”

Pt. 2

Yes, kids say the darndest things.

Today as I relaxed in my easy chair, I looked over at my 13 year old grandson, and said,

“Noah, you like to play with I-pads and computers and smart phones, don’t ya? You definitely like to entertain yourself. But, ya know, it’s also important to spend time with God.”

To which he responded,

“Well, I love the Lord, but I never see Him!”

(As if, he used to hang out with God, but in recent years the Almighty had been away on a long trip, or He’d decided to inhabit another planet for the extended future).

And to be fair, I suppose that is exactly what happened to Him. For if we are to believe scripture, God Almighty, the Alpha and Omega, the Beginning and the End, The Lord of Hosts, the Great ‘I AM’ assumed the form of a man, and dwelt among us.

“Therefore, the Lord, Himself shall give you a sign. Behold a virgin shall conceive and bear a son and shall call His name,

Emmanuel.” (Isaiah 7:14)

But having offered Himself as a sacrifice for sin, death could not hold Him. He arose from the grave, and ascended into heaven; to sit at the right hand of God, the Father.

“In the beginning, Lord, you laid the foundations of the earth,

and the heavens are the work of your hands.

They will perish, but you remain;

they will all wear out like a garment.

You will roll them up like a robe;

like a garment they will be changed.

But you remain the same,

and your years will never end.”

To which of the angels did God ever say,

“Sit at my right hand

until I make your enemies

a footstool for your feet” (Hebrews 1:10-13)

Pt. 3

“I love the Lord, but I never see Him.”

My grandson’s words bring to mind a fitting quotation from the movie, “Oh God.”

In the movie, God (George Burns) appears in a courtroom to testify in favor of Jerry (John Denver), who, ‘til then, was the only person who had been able to see Him.

“I know how hard it is in these times to have faith. But maybe if you could have the faith to start with, maybe the times would change. You could change them. Think about it. Try. And try not to hurt each other. There's been enough of that. It really gets in the way. I'm a God of very few words and Jerry (the John Denver character) has already given you mine. However hopeless, helpless, mixed up and scary it all gets, it can work. If you find it hard to believe in me, maybe it would help you to know that I believe in you.”

There was a time when people such as Simon Peter and John and Andrew might have said,

“I love the Lord, and I saw Him with my eyes, and touched Him with my hands; the very Word of Life.”

(and)

“I heard Him say and do things no man ever did before.”

(and)

“After His death, He reappeared and we watched Him as He disappeared in the clouds.”

(and)

“He promised that He would send the promise of the Father, the blessed Holy Spirit, to abide with us in His place.”

(and)

“As He went, so shall He come again one day.”

Pt. 4

As a Christian mentor, I am convinced that Jesus is THE Way, THE Truth and THE Life, and that He was and continues to be very man and very God. And though I have rarely, if at all heard the following implication from a pulpit, I am convinced that faith is not enough, since anyone of us can have faith in something that has no power, whatever, to save him or her from anything.

He cut down cedars,

or perhaps took a cypress or oak.

He let it grow among the trees of the forest,

or planted a pine, and the rain made it grow.

It is used as fuel for burning;

some of it he takes and warms himself,

he kindles a fire and bakes bread.

But he also fashions a god and worships it;

he makes an idol and bows down to it.

Half of the wood he burns in the fire;

over it he prepares his meal,

he roasts his meat and eats his fill.

He also warms himself and says,

“Ah! I am warm; I see the fire.”

From the rest he makes a god, his idol;

he bows down to it and worships.

He prays to it and says,

“Save me! You are my god!”

(Isaiah 44:14-17)

But rather, we have been given the privilege to extend our faith towards Someone who offers us Proof of Whom He claims to be. While this is the wrong forum for any extensive treatise on the subject, I am convinced such evidentiary examples include:

1. The Word of God

2. The fulfillment of Prophecy

3. The presence of and work of the Holy Spirit among His people

4. The personal testimony of believers

5. Miracles and Healings

Pt. 5

“I love the Lord, but I never see Him.”

If we were to examine just one facet of the preceding evidence, for my purposes here I would remind you of the personal testimony of not only the twelve disciples, but those who have followed after them, and continue even to this day.

As believers, we stand on the shoulders of giants. Men and women who were SO convinced that what they knew and saw here was not all there is that they willingly, and not only willingly, but gladly, laid down their lives on behalf of the One Whom they could not see with their physical eyes, but Who has made an irrevocable and everlasting difference in their lives.

Some faced jeers and flogging, and even chains and imprisonment.

They were put to death by stoning; they were sawed in two. They were killed by the sword. They went about in sheepskins and goatskins, destitute, persecuted and mistreated and the world was not worthy of them. (Hebrews 11:36-38)

And I reflect, once again, on my grandson’s recent statement, and the question which arises out of it.

“Can we extend our faith towards a God Whom we cannot see?”

The answer is an absolute and irrevocable, “Yes!”

“Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” (Hebrews 11:1)

by William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from (Mc)Donald's Daily Diary. Vol. 40. Copyright pending

HANDS

Grandpa, some ninety plus years, sat feebly on the patio bench. He didn't move, just sat with his head down staring at his hands. When I sat down beside him he didn't acknowledge my presence and the longer I sat, I wondered if he was OK.

Finally, not really wanting to disturb him but wanting to check on him at the same time, I asked him if he was OK.

He raised his head and looked at me and smiled. "Yes, I'm fine.

Thank you for asking," he said in a clear strong voice.

"I didn't mean to disturb you, Grandpa, but you were just sitting here staring at your hands and I wanted to make sure you were OK," I explained to him.

"Have you ever looked at your hands," he asked.

"I mean really looked at your hands?"

I slowly opened my hands and stared down at them. I turned them over, palms up and then palms down. No, I guess I had never really looked at my hands as I tried to figure out the point he was making. Grandpa smiled and related this story:

"Stop and think for a moment about the hands you have, how they have served you well throughout your years. These hands, though wrinkled, shriveled, and weak have been the tools I have used all my life to reach out and grab and embrace life. They put food in my mouth and clothes on my back.

As a child, my mother taught me to fold them in prayer.

They tied my shoes and pulled on my boots.

They have been dirty, scraped and raw, swollen and bent.

They were uneasy and clumsy when I tried to hold my newborn sons.

Decorated with my wedding band they showed the world that I

was married and loved someone special.

They trembled and shook when I buried my parents and spouse

and walked my daughter down the aisle.

They have covered my face, combed my hair, and washed and

cleansed the rest of my body.

They have been sticky and wet, bent and broken, dried and raw.

And to this day, when not much of anything else of me works

real well, these hands hold me up, lay me down, and again

continue to fold in prayer.

These hands are the mark of where I've been and the

ruggedness of my life.

But more importantly, it will be these hands that God will

reach out and take when he leads me home.

And with my hands, He will lift me to His side and there

I will use these hands to touch the face of Christ."

I will never look at my hands the same again. But I remember when God reached out and took my grandpa's hands and led him home.

So, when my hands are hurt or sore I think of Grandpa. I know he has been stroked and caressed and held by the hands of God. I, too, want to touch the face of God and feel His hands upon my face.

911 - A Personal Remembrance

So little time has passed and so much has happened since September 11, 2001, a date and also a place that is now universally known as 911. (I have often wondered if the terrorists chose this date based on the three digits one dials to report an emergency).

My wife and I had been awake a couple of hours, and were watching one of the morning shows, when one of the hosts, (I forget exactly which one) said,

“Uhmmm, I have just been notified that a passenger airplane has crashed into one of the World Trade Center buildings in New York City.”

Like millions of our fellow Americans, we sat down in front of the television and watched the amazing coverage of this unexpected event. American Airlines Flight 11 out of Boston had just crashed into the North Tower (WTC 1).

Before much time had elapsed another passenger aircraft, United Airlines Flight 175, would slam into the South Tower (WTC 2), another would go down in Pennsylvania, and a fourth would crash into the Pentagon. All tolled almost 3,000 people would lose their lives that day.

As a result of this series of dastardly deeds which were perpetrated on America and its citizens a War on Terrorism was declared, and our country and its troops found themselves engaged in a twenty year effort to destroy those who perpetrated their awful agenda upon us.

Between Iraq and Afghanistan, and other places in which we were engaged, our nation has lost more than twice as many soldiers, sailors, airmen and marines in the past two decades as the original number of our citizens who succumbed on that fateful day.

Pt. 2

How odd that I have a personal connection to all three locations in which the unspeakable events of September 11^th took place.

My senior class of 1967 visited Washington D.C. and New York City, and toured various national landmarks, including the White House, the Capitol Building, the Empire State Building and the Statue of Liberty. Interestingly enough, (at least to me) the foundations for the World Trade Center complex were dug during the first semester of my senior year, and the building began the year after I graduated.

I once lived and worked in the great State of Pennsylvania admittedly much closer to Philadelphia than Shanksville, but Pennsylvania nonetheless. It would be another quarter of a century before the unparalleled bravery of a few passengers on American Airlines Flight 93 would irrevocably endear a few hundred citizens of that little village, or at least the location, itself to their untold fellow travelers of the world.

However, prior to living in the Keystone State and having just completed my tour of duty in the Air Force, my family and I moved to Stafford, Virginia, just forty miles from the nation’s capital. During my tenure in Virginia, I worked a series of jobs, not the least among them was my position as an employee with the Army Records Center in Alexandria, just outside of Washington, D.C. While I might have remained in this capacity for quite some time, my wanderlust drove me to seek employment elsewhere. I procured a labor position with a sub-contractor which was engaged in installing the utilities for the D.C. subway system. Our utilities yard was located a hundred yards from the Pentagon. I would often look across the parking lot which separated me from that place, and marvel at the size and proximity of that world-famous military complex. Little could I have known then that my connection with that building would soon be slightly more substantial, but slightly more temporary, than the job with which I was at that time involved.

Pt. 3

For you see, in 1975 I completed a Civil Service test in one of a myriad of offices inside what was (and may still be) the largest building by volume in this or any other universe. Having scored well, I was offered a civilian position with the U.S. Air Force. And I came “that close” to accepting the job, but, ultimately, decided against it, since in addition to eight hours pecking out letters on an electric typewriter, it would have entailed me driving two hours to and from work on a daily basis.

I have often mused about how things might have fallen together had I accepted the position with the Pentagon. I mean, there is every reason to believe, had I accepted the job, I would have been working in that massive building, and nearing retirement when American Airlines Flight 77 crashed into the Pentagon.

I have mentally placed myself in that massive building on that morning of September 11^th, 2001, and wondered if I would have been taken unawares, and if my final breath might have escaped my body at 9:37am that day, or whether I might have found myself rushing down an inestimably long hallway, along with an immense crowd of military troops and civilians, an exit sign gradually growing larger and more distinct above a distant doorway.

However, whether we found ourselves in New York City, New York 0r Shanksville, Pennsylvania or Arlington, Virginia on that fateful day, whether we still endure the stress and subjective remembrances of having been there, or the softer, and more objective national reminiscence of that day, I think it is for us, the living, to, as it were, stand in for those who gave the last full measure, to make our lives count, to use our words and actions to make a difference on this earth, whereas they have been so rudely denied the wherewithal to do so.

by William McDonald, PhD. Copyright pending

WISE WORDS FROM ANTHONY HOPKINS

′′Let go the people who are not prepared to love you. This is the hardest thing you will have to do in your life and it will also be the most important thing. Stop having hard conversations with people who don't want change.

Stop showing up for people who have no interest in your presence. I know your instinct is to do everything to earn the appreciation of those around you, but it's a boost that steals your time, energy, mental and physical health.

When you begin to fight for a life with joy, interest and commitment, not everyone will be ready to follow you in this place. This doesn't mean you need to change what you are, it means you should let go of the people who aren't ready to accompany you.

If you are excluded, insulted, forgotten or ignored by the people you give your time to, you don't do yourself a favor by continuing to offer your energy and your life. The truth is that you are not for everyone and not everyone is for you.

That's what makes it so special when you meet people who reciprocate love. You will know how precious you are.

The more time you spend trying to make yourself loved by someone who is unable to, the more time you waste depriving yourself of the possibility of this connection to someone else.

There are billions of people on this planet and many of them will meet with you at your level of interest and commitment.

The more you stay involved with people who use you as a pillow, a background option or a therapist for emotional healing, the longer you stay away from the community you want.

Maybe if you stop showing up, you won't be wanted. Maybe if you stop trying, the relationship will end. Maybe if you stop texting your phone will stay dark for weeks. That doesn't mean you ruined the relationship, it means the only thing holding it back was the energy that only you gave to keep it. This is not love, it's attachment. It's wanting to give a chance to those who don't deserve it. You deserve so much, there are people who should not be in your life.

The most valuable thing you have in your life is your time and energy, and both are limited. When you give your time and energy, it will define your existence.

When you realize this, you begin to understand why you are so anxious when you spend time with people, in activities, places or situations that don't suit you and shouldn't be around you, your energy is stolen.

You will begin to realize that the most important thing you can do for yourself and for everyone around you is to protect your energy more fiercely than anything else. Make your life a safe haven, in which only ′′compatible′′ people are allowed.

You are not responsible for saving anyone. You are not responsible for convincing them to improve. It's not your work to exist for people and give your life to them! If you feel bad, if you feel compelled, you will be the root of all your problems, fearing that they will not return the favours you have granted. It's your only obligation to realize that you are the love of your destiny and accept the love you deserve.

Decide that you deserve true friendship, commitment, true and complete love with healthy and prosperous people. Then wait and see how much everything begins to change. Don't waste time with people who are not worth it. Change will give you the love, the esteem, happiness and the protection you deserve.

LOOKING FOR THAT ONE

  I was watching a movie today about a military doctor who was assigned a patient with severe dental and lip injuries; as a result of an automobile accident.

This surgeon took extraordinary measures to assist his patient, and spent multiplied hours planning the initial, and subsequent operations. Never in his surgical career had he felt such empathy for a patient. Never in his life had he devoted such caring effort, or taken his responsibility so much to heart.

And though the young woman was gruesome to behold, and though her injuries were the worst he’d ever witnessed, he painstakingly went about his task. And for those several months and years he assumed a duel role; that of physician and prophet. For he could see the invisible as though it was visible.

The young woman often lashed out at him, wavering between despondency, anxiety, discouragement and outright rage. But nothing deterred him from his task, and over the course of years he performed surgery after surgery. And with each operation his dream took shape, and his young client seemed more confident about the ultimate result.

More than once someone accused the doctor of playing God. And though their remarks were critical in tone, the physician chose to regard them as compliments.

And what of the young lady, the recipient of all his skill and labor? Her facial deformities became less obvious, less hideous to those who beheld her. And with time the results of her unfortunate accident were almost imperceptible, until all that was left was a slight scar on one edge of her recreated lips. And her joy and the corresponding joy of her surgeon overflowed, and seemed to fill up the world around them. She was whole again. Her shame was vanquished.

And I think I forgot to tell you. Before her injury, our little heroine had been a military nurse. And she returned to her duties with more vigor and more enthusiasm than she had ever felt before. For having once been a patient, she could empathize far better than most.

I’ve been thinking a lot about that “playing God” analogy, and at first glance it’s a repugnant characterization, since there’s One God and I’m not Him. But that old adage, “Some people have to have a God with flesh on” rings true. We have been given a rare opportunity; an opportunity to play both prophet and God, and I say that with all due respect, and submission to the only One and True God.

There are those in our midst who will never excel, nor attempt to do so. There are those in our company who will be content to squander their God-given hopes and dreams. There are those who will make the cemetery richer; for the local cemetery is among the richest pieces of ground on earth. It is filled with all the unexplored and unfulfilled dreams of thousands of God’s creations; lying dormant, never to find fruition.

My message to you tonight is to look for that one; that one person among many who displays the kind of unexplored, just under the surface potential to be singular, to be great, to be used of Our Lord. Look for that man or woman who can be shaped, molded, impacted; for that one who, though sick, or sad, or even selfish has a pliable and contrite spirit, and who is increasingly ready to assume their God-given place on the earth.

Inscribed on the Statue of Liberty is a verse: “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teaming shore. Send these, the homeless tempest tossed to me. I lift my lamp beside the golden door.” (Emma Lazarus)

Our mission is to people like that. The tired, the poor, the huddled masses, the wretched refuse, the homeless. And we have a lamp to light their pathway. And we offer them a golden door; a door that leads to freedom.

But many will refuse our comfort, and many will drift away. But if we can touch just one at a time. We may not be able to change the world, but we may be able to change the world of one person. Pour your efforts into all who seek help, who pleads for deliverance. Do this. Do this.

But look for that one; that one who seems to provoke you to do a little more. That one who not only needs a little more attention, but who, by words or action, places themselves in your hands, and bids you mold them into something lovely. Look for that one.

For you are both a physician and a prophet. So reminiscent of that doctor who bestowed his best labor on the little patient, earlier in this story. God calls you to pour healing suave in their wounds. He gives you dreams in the night on their behalf, and provokes you to see the invisible and impossible. You are a both a physician and a prophet.

Look for that One, that One who seems to provoke you to do a little more. That One who not only needs a little more attention, but who, by words or action, places themselves in your hands and bids you mold them into Something lovely. Look for that One.

(William McDonald, PhD)

AN APPOINTMENT IN SAMARRA

There’s a mythological story which speaks to the reality of, and certainty of death.

Years before Gabriel spoke to the Virgin Mary, or Moses rolled back the Red Sea, a powerful king named Zaidan ruled and reigned in a faraway land. The king was proud of his country and his people, and though he fiercely rendered justice to whom justice was due, he was also known as a man of rich compassion.

And as you might expect, the good king’s palace and its adjoining grounds were populated by a multitude of loyal servants. And as you might also well imagine, the ruler of this great land enjoyed the services of a few selected stewards whom had proved their loyalty, and who had ministered to his daily needs over the course of decades.

One servant, in particular, a man named Abdul, had from time immemorial fulfilled a brief, but (at least from the king’s point of view) necessary task. Outside of that singular, daily task, he was “given the run” of the palace, and little else was expected of him.

Oddly enough, when the waning shadows on the sun dial registered the 6^th hour of the afternoon, all activity in the inner sanctum of the palace ceased, the king mounted his throne, and a nearby eunuch slammed a mallet on a great silver cymbal. Three times. And as the last echoes of the great gong ceased to reverberate, a great door in the back of the massive room opened, and Abdul appeared, attired in blue and crimson, and marched down the long aisle which separated him from the ornate throne.

The king’s servants, male and female, lined each side of the aisle; soldiers on his right. Handmaids on his left; as Abdul navigated the fifty feet which separated him from the monarch whom he had grown to love and respect.

Pt. 2

Having reached the foot of the great throne, Abdul stopped, slammed his arms against his side, drew his left foot against his right, silently cleared his throat, and shouted the words,

“Remember, oh king…one day you must die!”

Having uttered those eight fateful words, he executed a military about face movement, and retraced his steps down the aisle, and out the main door of the inner sanctum.

And with this, the king stood and made his way out a side door, and into his adjoining study. As the door closed behind him, the assembled soldiers and handmaidens drifted back from whence they’d come; Abdul’s poignant message having impacted not only their beneficent ruler, but they, themselves.

“Remember, oh king…one day you must die!”

Abdul might as well have shouted,

“Remember, Hakeem, Remember Ayishah…one day you must die.”

The message simply never got old. It was simply too ‘there there.’ And if the king was hyper-sensitive to the message, Abdul the more so. It seemed to keep him and them focused on the gravity of life, and the priorities, good, better and best, which surrounded life.

And, dear readers, as I previously inferred, having completed his dreary daily task, Abdul marched himself out of the ornate throne room, and retreated to the servant’s quarters.

Having fulfilled his appointed daily task for several years, the time came when Abdul began to feel a bit unfulfilled. And one morning, after breakfast, he approached the king’s viceroy, and requested an audience with his beloved master.

Pt. 3

Abdul lost no time in explaining himself, and the viceroy lost no time in approving his request to meet with the king.

And as quickly as his wish was granted, Abdul was escorted into the king’s bedroom; (for he often had breakfast in bed). His monarch smiled, and greeted his favorite servant with,

“And to what do I owe the pleasure of your company so early in the day, my dear friend?”

Abdul cleared his throat, and spoke.

“Oh king, as important as I count my daily task, I sense the need of something more, an additional role to take my mind away from this dread, and dreary subject with which you have invested me; (but which both you and I believe is so crucial to your life and kingdom”).

To which the king replied,

“Abdul, you have been a faithful servant and a true friend to me. But if you feel you need some added task, I will allow it. You know my aged servant, Mohammed, just recently stepped down as my Steward of Royal Food Stuffs. I had been planning to procure a younger man to assume his place. But since this role only requires two days each week in which he mounted his camel, visited the local market, and ordered the necessary foods and wines, I will allow you to assume this additional role.”

And though any outward change in a solemn countenance in the king’s presence was considered disrespectful, Abdul could not contain himself, and a great smile lit up his face.

But since the king sometimes dispensed with formalities, and since he was alone with his dear friend, he could not help but emit a resounding laugh; which seemed to rise up from the depths of his belly.

Pt. 4

 And while, Abdul continued to march down the aisle of the throne room, and shouted the words he’d shouted so many times before, he assumed the secondary role as the Steward of Royal Food Stuffs, and made his way to the market on a bi-weekly basis.

A few weeks had passed since the faithful Abdul had assumed his added duty, and as he was leisurely strolling through the marketplace, and as he had begun to dicker with a local merchant for three bushels of dates, and ten kilos of olives, he happened to cast his eyes to the left, and what he saw caused an involuntary shudder to run up his spine.

Death Incarnate

What, (or perhaps the word is ‘Who’) greeted his eyes was none other than the Death Angel; (whom, as it fell together, was, apparently invisible to everyone, but Abdul).

The hideous creature was robed in black, (but contrary to our modern caricature, he held no scythe or sickle in his hand). As Abdul looked up at the magnificent being, (for he stood head and shoulders taller than the steward, and he was built like a proverbial bull) his black and threatening eyes caused the hair to rise on his arms.

For all his daily proclamations, Adul had never encountered the subject of his exclamations. Death. He immediately forgot about the dates and olives, and for that matter gave no thought to his mode of transportation; the camel which stood three paces away. But rather, he turned and ran as quickly as his feet could carry him away from the market, and into the desert. A full hour elapsed before he slowed, and began to walk. Another hour passed before he noticed the spire of the king’s palace, and he strode wearily through its main gate.

Pt. 5

Abdul lost no time in approaching the king, nor did he seek permission to do so; another breach in royal etiquette. But there was simply no time for etiquette.

He found the king just outside his royal harem; as he stood interviewing another potential concubine.

Falling down before him, Abdul exclaimed,

“Oh king, forgive my insolence; just this once. But allow me to make my plea. As I was in the marketplace today, and busy with the culinary affairs of my master, I saw something almost unspeakable. I saw the darkest, most evil creature you can possibly imagine. I saw the Death Angel. And dear friend (may I call you, ‘friend’) his gaze was absolutely penetrating, and great fear permeated the recesses of my soul!”

(and)

“Oh king, I gave no thought to the royal camel, but found my way out of the dark Angel’s presence, and crossed the desert on foot. Dear king, if I have pleased you, if I have done those things, and more that has been expected of me, loan me your best camel, and allow me to flee to the City of Samarra!”

As Abdul looked up from his place on the floor, he noticed something he had never seen throughout the multiplied years he’d served the king. A tear ran down the royal cheek, and anger suddenly registered on his countenance.

“My friend, of course you may borrow my prize camel. Lose no time! Make haste! Do not delay!”

And with this, Abdul kissed the king’s feet, rose from the floor, and made good his escape.

Needless to say, the king was incensed, and immediately ordered a garrison of soldiers to accompany him to the city in search of the interloper.

Arriving at the marketplace, the king cast his eyes among the hundred or so booths and stands which greeted him. Suddenly, he spotted the horrible creature; lingering near the place where his faithful servant encountered him.

Accompanied by his soldiers, he approached the dark gruesome beast, and exclaimed,

“Oh Death, my faithful servant, Abdul, was here just six hours hence, and he told me he saw you, as I see you with my own eyes now. And my faithful steward and friend, Abdul, claimed you glared at him, and threatened him with your gruesome countenance! Please give an account of yourself.”

To which the dark Angel of Death bared his yellow fangs, but spoke, it seemed, rather softly.

“Oh good king, I did not threaten your servant. I was only surprised to see him. For you see, I have an appointment with him tonight

…in the City of Samarra.”

Afterward

Over the past couple of weeks, I have experienced an unusual trend the likes of which I have never experienced before.

I was scheduled to see my dermatologist on a particular date next month, and realized that we were heading out of state the day of the appointment. I attempted to call a couple of times to reschedule my appointment, and after being put on hold I left a message, twice. And each time exactly nothing happened. I didn’t receive a return call from the doctor’s office. As a result, after two successive failures to return my calls, I got in my car and drove thirty miles to the dermatologist’ office, told them I had left two messages, that no one had returned my calls, and rescheduled my appointment.

And then we were scheduled to visit a local attorney’s office the end of this week to complete our Last Will and Testament, along with a couple of other forms related to our estate. Yesterday we received a call from the lawyer’s office. They had to cancel our appointment, as the result of a death in the family. However, one of the other attorneys in the office would be happy to meet with us the same day and hour… by phone. We politely declined and told the receptionist that we would reschedule at a later date. I simply am not going to interact about such a life-ending topic as death and disposal of my property by phone.

And then I was scheduled for my six month doctor’s appointment this week. As a result, I reported to the diagnostic company yesterday for my lab testing. After sitting down in the chair, and providing my name and insurance cards, I was informed that the doctor’s office hadn’t sent the order. As a result, I drove home, called the doctor’s office, and made them aware of this omission. I was assured they would contact the lab, and that I should return today. Having driven to the diagnostic center today, and having been escorted into the specimen room, the lab technician checked the computer, and once again the doctor’s office had failed to provide the required documentation. As a result, I called the doctor’s office again today, and informed them of the situation, and I rescheduled my appointment for a later date.

All that to say this. While several of my appointments were confused, delayed and rescheduled, each and every one of us have a scheduled appointment which will not be changed or rescheduled. Like Abdul in the story you just finished reading, our appointment with death is certain, and unchangeable, and the date is engraved in a proverbial stone, as surely as the date will one day be engraved in a literal stone which marks our final resting place. Certainly not the “funnest” subject anyone will bring up today, but it is an eventuality for which we must prepare.

by William McDonald, PhD. Copyright pending

 

 

AN APPOINTMENT IN SAMARRA

There’s a mythological story which speaks to the reality of, and certainty of death.

Years before Gabriel spoke to the Virgin Mary, or Moses rolled back the Red Sea, a powerful king named Zaidan ruled and reigned in a faraway land. The king was proud of his country and his people, and though he fiercely rendered justice to whom justice was due, he was also known as a man of rich compassion.

And as you might expect, the good king’s palace and its adjoining grounds were populated by a multitude of loyal servants. And as you might also well imagine, the ruler of this great land enjoyed the services of a few selected stewards whom had proved their loyalty, and who had ministered to his daily needs over the course of decades.

One servant, in particular, a man named Abdul, had from time immemorial fulfilled a brief, but (at least from the king’s point of view) necessary task. Outside of that singular, daily task, he was “given the run” of the palace, and little else was expected of him.

Oddly enough, when the waning shadows on the sun dial registered the 6^th hour of the afternoon, all activity in the inner sanctum of the palace ceased, the king mounted his throne, and a nearby eunuch slammed a mallet on a great silver cymbal. Three times. And as the last echoes of the great gong ceased to reverberate, a great door in the back of the massive room opened, and Abdul appeared, attired in blue and crimson, and marched down the long aisle which separated him from the ornate throne.

The king’s servants, male and female, lined each side of the aisle; soldiers on his right. Handmaids on his left; as Abdul navigated the fifty feet which separated him from the monarch whom he had grown to love and respect.

Pt. 2

Having reached the foot of the great throne, Abdul stopped, slammed his arms against his side, drew his left foot against his right, silently cleared his throat, and shouted the words,

“Remember, oh king…one day you must die!”

Having uttered those eight fateful words, he executed a military about face movement, and retraced his steps down the aisle, and out the main door of the inner sanctum.

And with this, the king stood and made his way out a side door, and into his adjoining study. As the door closed behind him, the assembled soldiers and handmaidens drifted back from whence they’d come; Abdul’s poignant message having impacted not only their beneficent ruler, but they, themselves.

“Remember, oh king…one day you must die!”

Abdul might as well have shouted,

“Remember, Hakeem, Remember Ayishah…one day you must die.”

The message simply never got old. It was simply too ‘there there.’ And if the king was hyper-sensitive to the message, Abdul the more so. It seemed to keep him and them focused on the gravity of life, and the priorities, good, better and best, which surrounded life.

And, dear readers, as I previously inferred, having completed his dreary daily task, Abdul marched himself out of the ornate throne room, and retreated to the servant’s quarters.

Having fulfilled his appointed daily task for several years, the time came when Abdul began to feel a bit unfulfilled. And one morning, after breakfast, he approached the king’s viceroy, and requested an audience with his beloved master.

Pt. 3

Abdul lost no time in explaining himself, and the viceroy lost no time in approving his request to meet with the king.

And as quickly as his wish was granted, Abdul was escorted into the king’s bedroom; (for he often had breakfast in bed). His monarch smiled, and greeted his favorite servant with,

“And to what do I owe the pleasure of your company so early in the day, my dear friend?”

Abdul cleared his throat, and spoke.

“Oh king, as important as I count my daily task, I sense the need of something more, an additional role to take my mind away from this dread, and dreary subject with which you have invested me; (but which both you and I believe is so crucial to your life and kingdom”).

To which the king replied,

“Abdul, you have been a faithful servant and a true friend to me. But if you feel you need some added task, I will allow it. You know my aged servant, Mohammed, just recently stepped down as my Steward of Royal Food Stuffs. I had been planning to procure a younger man to assume his place. But since this role only requires two days each week in which he mounted his camel, visited the local market, and ordered the necessary foods and wines, I will allow you to assume this additional role.”

And though any outward change in a solemn countenance in the king’s presence was considered disrespectful, Abdul could not contain himself, and a great smile lit up his face.

But since the king sometimes dispensed with formalities, and since he was alone with his dear friend, he could not help but emit a resounding laugh; which seemed to rise up from the depths of his belly.

Pt. 4

 And while, Abdul continued to march down the aisle of the throne room, and shouted the words he’d shouted so many times before, he assumed the secondary role as the Steward of Royal Food Stuffs, and made his way to the market on a bi-weekly basis.

A few weeks had passed since the faithful Abdul had assumed his added duty, and as he was leisurely strolling through the marketplace, and as he had begun to dicker with a local merchant for three bushels of dates, and ten kilos of olives, he happened to cast his eyes to the left, and what he saw caused an involuntary shudder to run up his spine.

Death Incarnate

What, (or perhaps the word is ‘Who’) greeted his eyes was none other than the Death Angel; (whom, as it fell together, was, apparently invisible to everyone, but Abdul).

The hideous creature was robed in black, (but contrary to our modern caricature, he held no scythe or sickle in his hand). As Abdul looked up at the magnificent being, (for he stood head and shoulders taller than the steward, and he was built like a proverbial bull) his black and threatening eyes caused the hair to rise on his arms.

For all his daily proclamations, Adul had never encountered the subject of his exclamations. Death. He immediately forgot about the dates and olives, and for that matter gave no thought to his mode of transportation; the camel which stood three paces away. But rather, he turned and ran as quickly as his feet could carry him away from the market, and into the desert. A full hour elapsed before he slowed, and began to walk. Another hour passed before he noticed the spire of the king’s palace, and he strode wearily through its main gate.

Pt. 5

Abdul lost no time in approaching the king, nor did he seek permission to do so; another breach in royal etiquette. But there was simply no time for etiquette.

He found the king just outside his royal harem; as he stood interviewing another potential concubine.

Falling down before him, Abdul exclaimed,

“Oh king, forgive my insolence; just this once. But allow me to make my plea. As I was in the marketplace today, and busy with the culinary affairs of my master, I saw something almost unspeakable. I saw the darkest, most evil creature you can possibly imagine. I saw the Death Angel. And dear friend (may I call you, ‘friend’) his gaze was absolutely penetrating, and great fear permeated the recesses of my soul!”

(and)

“Oh king, I gave no thought to the royal camel, but found my way out of the dark Angel’s presence, and crossed the desert on foot. Dear king, if I have pleased you, if I have done those things, and more that has been expected of me, loan me your best camel, and allow me to flee to the City of Samarra!”

As Abdul looked up from his place on the floor, he noticed something he had never seen throughout the multiplied years he’d served the king. A tear ran down the royal cheek, and anger suddenly registered on his countenance.

“My friend, of course you may borrow my prize camel. Lose no time! Make haste! Do not delay!”

And with this, Abdul kissed the king’s feet, rose from the floor, and made good his escape.

Needless to say, the king was incensed, and immediately ordered a garrison of soldiers to accompany him to the city in search of the interloper.

Arriving at the marketplace, the king cast his eyes among the hundred or so booths and stands which greeted him. Suddenly, he spotted the horrible creature; lingering near the place where his faithful servant encountered him.

Accompanied by his soldiers, he approached the dark gruesome beast, and exclaimed,

“Oh Death, my faithful servant, Abdul, was here just six hours hence, and he told me he saw you, as I see you with my own eyes now. And my faithful steward and friend, Abdul, claimed you glared at him, and threatened him with your gruesome countenance! Please give an account of yourself.”

To which the dark Angel of Death bared his yellow fangs, but spoke, it seemed, rather softly.

“Oh good king, I did not threaten your servant. I was only surprised to see him. For you see, I have an appointment with him tonight

…in the City of Samarra.”

Afterward

Over the past couple of weeks, I have experienced an unusual trend the likes of which I have never experienced before.

I was scheduled to see my dermatologist on a particular date next month, and realized that we were heading out of state the day of the appointment. I attempted to call a couple of times to reschedule my appointment, and after being put on hold I left a message, twice. And each time exactly nothing happened. I didn’t receive a return call from the doctor’s office. As a result, after two successive failures to return my calls, I got in my car and drove thirty miles to the dermatologist’ office, told them I had left two messages, that no one had returned my calls, and rescheduled my appointment.

And then we were scheduled to visit a local attorney’s office the end of this week to complete our Last Will and Testament, along with a couple of other forms related to our estate. Yesterday we received a call from the lawyer’s office. They had to cancel our appointment, as the result of a death in the family. However, one of the other attorneys in the office would be happy to meet with us the same day and hour… by phone. We politely declined and told the receptionist that we would reschedule at a later date. I simply am not going to interact about such a life-ending topic as death and disposal of my property by phone.

And then I was scheduled for my six month doctor’s appointment this week. As a result, I reported to the diagnostic company yesterday for my lab testing. After sitting down in the chair, and providing my name and insurance cards, I was informed that the doctor’s office hadn’t sent the order. As a result, I drove home, called the doctor’s office, and made them aware of this omission. I was assured they would contact the lab, and that I should return today. Having driven to the diagnostic center today, and having been escorted into the specimen room, the lab technician checked the computer, and once again the doctor’s office had failed to provide the required documentation. As a result, I called the doctor’s office again today, and informed them of the situation, and I rescheduled my appointment for a later date.

All that to say this. While several of my appointments were confused, delayed and rescheduled, each and every one of us have a scheduled appointment which will not be changed or rescheduled. Like Abdul in the story you just finished reading, our appointment with death is certain, and unchangeable, and the date is engraved in a proverbial stone, as surely as the date will one day be engraved in a literal stone which marks our final resting place. Certainly not the “funnest” subject anyone will bring up today, but it is an eventuality for which we must be prepared.

by William McDonald, PhD. Copyright pending