Draw Me

Photography by Mid Stutsman  http://midspix.wordpress.com/

Draw Me


Draw me through my tears
  Embrace me in my fears
In the stillness of the night
  Draw me

Draw me through my doubt
  Use truth to draw me out
When lies of the world deceive
  Draw me

Draw me into Your joy
  Use praises to employ
Your mercy and Your grace
  Draw me

Draw me to new heights
  Lift me with Your might
To Your ways higher than mine
  Draw me

Draw me through the skies
  To Your glorious home on high
Forever in Your light
  Draw me

© Nancy K. Sullivan    
    February 4, 2014

The Hill of Beran

It was almost like the Garden of Eden, this little valley where they lived. The petals of each bloom were succulent in appearance, filled with fragrant oils and life. The Clan K of four tended their plants and marveled at how the God of the universe had blessed them.

As the day faded into another beautiful evening, the mother spoke.

“You know,” Elle K said as her eyes embraced the fields and moved upward, “the top of the Hill of Beran looks to be a lonely place. No one ever goes there. The climb is so steep, and there is no reward awaiting. Just a plain crest surrounded by thin branches and trunks of trees that have lost their desire to grow. We should take seeds from the beauty we have sown here to the top of the Hill of Beran and plant them.”

The Clan K was blessed with two fine young men who were always eager to help tend the fertile Valley of Florae, but the thought of trudging up to    place where no one ever went just to share some of their precious flower seeds brought many grumbles.

“Now, boys. Don’t be too quick to think badly of your mother’s idea. She rarely requests anything of us. If this is something that feels important to her, we should give some serious thought to her idea,” cautioned their father, Papa K.

But Papa K’s heart was far from his spoken words. He had traveled to the top of that hill before; he knew the journey would be long and demanding. He had seen that crest up close and knew it to be void of any nutrition for their precious pips. But he would not deny his lovely bride of anything within his power to deliver.

By morning, Elle K had filled each seed sack with some of the best nuggets ready to be planted. The sacks were heavy on their shoulders. They left their fertile Valley of Florae and started the climb to the Hill of Beran.

The longer they walked, the steeper the climb became. Their seed sacks rubbed against their waists and thighs until tiny holes began to wear into the coarse burlap. The Clan K were too busy struggling with their footing to notice that as they climbed higher, more seeds fell to the ground.

When at last they reached the top of the Hill of Beran, they lifted the seed sacks from their shoulders. That’s when they noticed that they were no longer heavy. Most of the seeds had fallen out along the way.

“Papa, look! Our sacks are almost empty. We’ve climbed all this way. My shoes are nearly worn through from the rocks and crags, and now we’ve practically nothing to plant!”

Elle K examined her own flimsy seed sack that had been filled tight. She sighed. She could not let her husband and their boys feel their trip had been in vain.

 “Look at the seeds,” she implored. “The smaller ones fell through the tiny, worn places, but some seeds did survive our trek. Let’s find the very best spots to plant them. We’ll pray for the God of the universe to bless them. Then they will be in His hands.”

The Spring thaw had left a few shallow ponds among the thin trees, and there would be at least some shade there to protect the flowers, if they grew at all. The Clan K went to work and tenderly set the seeds just below the surface of the soil nearest the water ponds, then made the long trip downhill to their beautiful Valley of Florae.

Fall came, then Winter. Life settled back into their routine with few thoughts of their venture to the Hill of Beran.

Then Spring arrived.

After an afternoon of watering and tending their lush florals, Elle K rolled back onto her heels and stretched her neck upward.

“Look!” She exclaimed.

The path they had taken to the top of the Hill of Beran was alive with blooms, just like the Valley of Florae. And the top of the Hill of Beran was afire with color as the sun provided the spotlight for God’s blessings on those few surviving seeds.

Clans from far and wide now make the journey to the top of the Hill of Beran. The once barren crest is now covered with beauty. Every year the flowers increase in number and size, especially at the very top.  

And God smiles.

“How lovely on the mountains

 Are the feet of him who brings good news,

 Who announces peace,

 And brings good news of happiness,

 Who announces salvation,

 And says to Zion,

‘Your God reigns!’”  (Isaiah 52:7 NASB)

A fable to honor a special family. 

Sealed With Color

Sharing Ken Kniskern's photography and beautiful reminder that God teaches us through His creation.

(c) www.K2ProStudio.com

     "Sitting home on a warm fall day, contemplating the events of the past few months, and remembering some of the incredible things that God has done in and through the lives of our family this past year. We have been so busy with life, and as the fall and holiday season approaches, I am ready to slow down... to catch the beauty in the colorful display of God's artistry across the sky.

     Did you ever learn why the leaves change colors in the fall... well, technically they don't. I know, I know, the pictures I have posted the past few days prove me wrong, but lets look at what actually happens. During the spring and summer while the tree is busy producing food, the Chlorophyl in the leaves creates a bright green color that masks the colors already there. Once the days grow short, the tree begins to store food, and production stops and the chlorophyl is absorbed into the leaf revealing the beautiful colors that were already there. The glucose and waste left behind in the leaf provides additional vibrance and color to the display.

     Why the science lesson? In Genesis 9, God gives Noah a promise sealed with the colors of the rainbow after the flood had destroyed the earth. Interestingly enough the fall leaves mirror this promise... Life is not over, all is not lost... Spring will come once more, as it always has... If you are in a season of despair, this is God's promise that though the season is changing, He is still the artist behind each brush stroke of our lives.

     A closer look reveals something more - Something for ALL of us. Remember that while the tree is busy producing food, the colors cannot be seen... It is once the production stops that they are revealed. Perhaps this fall as we approach the holiday season, you are in a season of business... Production is in full swing, and your beauty is being masked by your business. 

     I pray that you will take some time to slow down, and allow others to see Christ in You - the beauty that has been there all along, simply masked by the business of life. Oh, and that left over food that adds to the beauty of the leaf... Perhaps you can share that Beauty (Christ) with someone around you, and help spread the color of God's promise across the forest of your existence!" 

     Happy Fall! KK

(c) www.K2ProStudio.com 

"And the bow shall be in the cloud; 

and I will look upon it, that I may 

remember the everlasting covenant 

between God and every living creature 

of all flesh that is upon the earth."

Genesis 9:16

(You can see more of Ken's work at www.K2ProStudio.com )

Dead Sea Rising Review

       Dead Sea Rising is an invitation to experience two worlds: The first, the Bermans', a modern-day Messianic Jewish family. The second, Terah's family in biblical Mesopotamia.

        Jerry Jenkins has his feet firmly planted in both worlds, and he intertwines the two with intrigue and danger that will make you willing, eager even, to travel with him through Dead Sea Rising.  If you enjoy serials, hang on. This one is going to be big!

       Hurry now to Barnes & Nobel or Amazon to get your copy before they're gone!

Launch Team Update on Dead Sea Rising by Jerry Jenkins

Reposting to bump this reminder to the top for anyone near Brentwood, TN this evening at 7PM.

Moving right along in the launch event for Dead Sea Rising. If you're in the Brentwood, TN area on November 9, 2018 this announcement is just for you:

• clock

  Friday, November 9, 2018 at 7 PM – 8 PM

• pin	Barnes & Noble Cool Springs 1701 Mallory Lane, Brentwood, Tennessee 37027

Change

It was time to say “Goodbye.” The dream of building our own home in the country and sharing that experience with our two daughters had been realized. Our little girls had made the transition from life in the city to country living and survived the culture shock of trading next door neighbors for a patch of land far removed from everything familiar – far removed from just about everything, actually. 

They were now young women and had left their rural nest in pursuit of their own dreams. It was time for my husband and myself to vacate that same nest and return to the city to begin a new chapter in our own lives.

What an adventure that 20 years had been. We would officially move into our almost-finished rock and rough cedar ranch house in 1980 during the hottest summer on record in our state. Anything that stayed in place for more than 20 seconds either dried up or was devoured by grasshoppers numbered by Biblical standards. By mid-July we were walking on crispy grass that would remain brown until the following spring.

After the initial excitement of building and moving into our new home had worn off, I was left with the reality that I was literally living in the middle of nowhere with all manner of creepy crawlies that were certainly much smaller and less lethal than the ones that existed in my imagination. A reality that meant many hours of alone time and facing many small emergencies that inevitably came when my knight/cowboy could not be there to resolve them.

My husband would travel the 60 miles to the city to work, adding a two-hour round-trip commute to an already long work day. This city girl would survive by staying active in our new church and investing in the girls’ world of basketball and cheer leading in their rural school and even more church activities.

We would experience sudden downpours of rain that would wash out the low-water crossing on the only trail from the county road to our front door. The expression, “Lord willin’ and the creeks don’t rise” was a statement of fact for us on more than one occasion. One of the heaviest snow and ice storms on record would mean four days of intermittent power outages and lots of family togetherness until the snow stopped long enough for my husband to clear a path with our tractor. I was actually a little disappointed when the school buses were able to reclaim miles and miles of dirt and gravel roads and my husband would reclaim his lane on the highway to his two jobs.

I miss the simpler pleasures of that time: A roaring fire in the over-sized fireplace and the wonderful smell that only charred firewood can offer. Along that same vein, I miss the beginning of fall and spending long afternoons raking leaves and twigs from around the pond into huge piles that would also fill the air with aromatic cinders and smoke. Our front door faced the west, and the sunsets seemed to be an inscribed love letter from God to our small family. Rainbows would come and go as they hovered just above the tree line that encircled our remote piece of the rock.

Most importantly, that time in the country was marked by a dependency on God that would not have happened at any other time or under any other circumstance I’ve experienced. The isolation within the walls of that remote haven meant my spending many more hours with Him than a busier lifestyle could have accommodated. Our stay there meant my faith became more of a commitment than a convenience.

When the time came for the new owners to begin living their dream on our farm, my final walk over the cleared front half of the 80 acres was as serene as any place on earth. A new-fallen snow blanketed the thirty-five acres of pasture surrounding our home and glistened peacefully among tree branches heavy with the moist powder. I was careful to photograph and video ahead of each step to keep from spoiling the untouched serenity. It was a still and quiet “Goodbye” that I never wanted to end.

Ecclesiastes 3:1 (NASB) says, “There is an appointed time for everything. And there is a time for every event under heaven.” Whatever our future may bring, living in rural America was that defining season that will forever remain deeply etched into my heart and mind. 

Dead Sea Rising by Jerry Jenkins

Dead Sea Rising by Jerry Jenkins is the first book in what will become another successful series by this acclaimed author. I had the privilege of being allowed to read an Advanced Released Copy.

You won't want to miss this one! Click on Dead Sea Rising in the menu bar at the top of the page for a free download of the first ten chapters. www.deadsearising.com

The Final Touch

Photo by Ken Kniskern

Timothy’s hands were trembling, but resolved as he completed the last step to his plan.  He calmly walked away from a delivery truck as its cab filled with smoke coming from the end of a burning fuse.

The downtown traffic was gradually beginning to subside after the morning rush hour.  Coffee mugs were finding their familiar places on corners of desks.  Computers hummed in unison as the users typed in passwords and hit the “Enter” keys.  Phones began to ring with morning wakeup calls for employees.  Downstairs muted giggles filtered into the hallways.

Those familiar sounds came to a horrific stop when the force equivalent to three tons of dynamite exploded and became the second shot heard around the world.

Oklahoma City would never be the same.  America would never be the same.  The lives of one hundred sixty-eight families, including those of parents who had just kissed the soft cheeks of their precious little ones, would never be the same.  The only life that seemed untouched was that of Timothy McVeigh, at least for now.

What was once a federal office building filled with FBI agents and other employees, local citizens, and a day care center was now a gaping hole in the Heartland.  Electrical cables hung like spaghetti, and roofing materials waved like shredded curtains hung from melted and twisted iron.  Shards of glass exploded and penetrated unsuspecting bystanders.

Television screens around the world carried the indescribable wreckage and carnage brought to the Bible Belt by hatred of the most demonic proportion.

Timothy may have calculated the required amount of explosive ingredients, the best time of the day to destroy the most lives, and the deadliest available parking place in front of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building, but there was one calculation he missed completely.  He could never have comprehended what would become the “Oklahoma Standard”.  

Volunteerism had its finest moments in the aftermath of the explosion.  Lines formed across the state with people who waited hours to donate blood.  Rescue workers from around the state, the nation, and the globe arrived daily for weeks.  Specially trained dogs became heroes.  Every conceivable need for the rescue and recovery teams was donated, mostly by Oklahomans.

                                                                                          * * * * *

Fifteen years later, in the shadow of The Survivor Tree, a gentle breeze barely skims the still water in the Reflecting Pool.  As the sun sets, the soft lights beneath the glass chairs begin to glow.  Each chair has been strategically placed and named to correspond with the deceased’s final place in and around the nine-story building.  They provide a tangible area where one can rest, place flowers, and even kneel in their quest for comfort and understanding.

Twin bronze gates stand majestically at each end of the memorial, one engraved with 9:01 AM, the other with 9:03 AM.  An inscription on the outside of each gate reads:

“We come here to remember those who were killed, those who survived and those changed forever.  May all who leave here know the impact of violence.   May this memorial offer comfort, strength, peace, hope and serenity.”

The peaceful setting that replaced the remains of terrorism speaks to moving on, but never forgetting.  Visitors still leave gifts in a 200-foot remnant of chain link fence that will forever be available for special touches of kindness and remembrance.

In a place as far away as Israel, a large painted mural of a firefighter tenderly looking into the quiet face of the child he is carrying covers the side of a concrete building, an image of an incredible moment in time.

The web page that hosts the site of the Oklahoma City National Memorial now shines with smiling faces of over comers and their stories of restored and victorious lives.  They choose to face each new day in the light of a different kind of joy.

Oklahomans have shown extraordinary resilience through the rough-and-tumble days of the Land Rush, early statehood, the Dust Bowl coupled with the Great Depression, two world wars, and an oil boom that turned into a bust.  April 19, 1995 was our biggest devastation.

“The spirit of this city and this nation will not be defeated; our deeply rooted faith sustains us” is inscribed near The Survivor Tree.

Out of the rubble came strength and greatness.  A state engulfed in mourning but enmeshed in faith as she watches in anticipation for the arrival of the Prince of Peace Who will, once and for all, end the touch of terror.

Photo by Ken Kniskern

Mother's Turn

My mother would have loved having a blog. Goldie Opal Anderson McCall taught the Bible most of her adult life. She was our go-to concordance, our expositor of scriptures that can raise more questions for which human understanding is often no match. We have a few things she wrote, but said little about. Today I'm honored to share one of them, noted with her initials and 1994, the year on April 18 my dad said his good-byes to us and "Hello" to so many loved ones in Heaven. Mother joined him on April 19, 2013.

OUR VALLEYS

Just as each life needs the mountain tops for sun,

The plains and shores for work and fun,

We also need a place along life's way

To be quiet --- to rest --- and hear God say,

"Be still and know that I am God."

Psalm 46:10

His plan for our lives may include a valley along the way,

As we strive to serve Him day by day.

So do not worry --- fret or fear,

He is faithful and will always be near

To "supply all your needs."

Philippians 4:19

No valley is too deep --- too long --- or too wide

To keep Jesus from walking by our side.

His word is full of His promises --- to you and to me ---

No matter where He sends us --- there He is sure to be.

"I will never leave thee or forsake thee."

Hebrews 13:5

GM

1994

We love you, Mom. Your teaching is still golden, and what a treasure to find something you typed and tucked away with so many of your words of wisdom. Enjoy Heaven with Dad. We'll see you soon.

A President Prays for our Nation's House

"I pray to heaven to bestow the best of blessings on this house and all that hereafter inhabit it...May none but the honest and wise men ever rule under this roof."*

John President (1797-1801)

*The prayer was later carved in the State Dining Room.

A Prayer for Our Nation

"Almighty GOD; we make our earnest prayer that Thou wilt keep the United States in Thy holy protection, that thou wilt incline the hearts of the citizens to cultivate a spirit of subordination and obedience to government; and entertain a brotherly affection and love for one another and for their fellow citizens of the United States of America at large. And finally that Thou wilt most graciously be pleased to dispose us all to do justice, to love mercy and to demean ourselves with that charity, humility and pacific temper of mind which were the characteristics of The Divine Author of our blessed religion, and without whose example in these things we can never hope to be a happy nation. Grant our supplication, we beseech thee, through Jesus Christ Our Lord. Amen"


George Washington

Psalm 51:10-12

"Create in me a clean heart, O God,
And renew a steadfast spirit within me.
Do not cast me away from Your presence
And do not take Your Holy Spirit from me.
Restore to me the joy of Your salvation
And sustain me with a willing spirit."

Psalm 51:10-12

Come

“Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.” 

(Matthew 11:28, NISB)

  “Come...” 

“Move from where you are"

  “…to Me.”

“Jesus. I’m all you need. I can help.”

  “all”
               “Anyone. Everyone.”

“who are weary”

               “I want to be your strength.”

 “and heavy laden”

               “I carried the cross and then bore it – just for you. I can carry you, too.”

 “and I will give you rest.”

               “Rest for your mind, body and spirit.”

The Music Lesson

          Two of the sources of joy in my life rest in our two beautiful daughters and the young women they've become. The younger of the two, Mandy Kniskern, and I often finish each other's sentences, reach for the phone to call each other at the same time - you know how it is with mothers and daughters.
          I was thinking through my post for this month, but just had not stopped to see if my thoughts would lead to anything helpful. No worries. I checked in to see what my facebook buddies were up to today, and there she was: Mandy. Not only finishing my thoughts, but doing it so eloquently it would be a shame for me to attempt a rewrite for "our" point of view. With her permission, I'm giving my corner over to her today. I hope it blesses you as much as it did me.

      "I love to sing harmony. It often makes me smile to think of how Ken’s and my singing styles speak so much to our personalities. Ken has an undeniably strong, effortless, leading solo voice. I love to blend. I love singing with and against other parts. As we were singing Sunday morning, I was harmonizing on a dissonant note, pressing in, loving the dissonance, anticipating the resolution… and it started me thinking...
      We experience that same dissonance in life...
      That tension that begs for resolution.  Whatever the situation is that’s unresolved, I can press in and learn what there is to learn, grow how I can grow while I wait for resolution. And sometimes it doesn’t come in that particular song or situation. 
          Just as some songs you hear trail off without resolving like you just know they will, such is life.  Not everything gets wrapped up and tied with a nice big bow. The closure that you’re waiting for in your situation doesn’t always come. But there will be a new song, and another new song after that. Just as our lives are a series of chapters, so are they an eclectic blend of music. Some songs will build and swell and give us that big dramatic finish that ends on tonic, the way that feels right, and some songs will deliver more complex chord structures, more dissonance less resolution.
           Who can understand why God allows the discord in our lives… We live in an imperfect world with spiritual battles being fought all around us, and I believe that there are simply times when evil prevails. But God can always work good out of what the enemy intends for our harm.
           If you’re in a particularly dissonant season, press in. Maybe resolution will come, maybe it won’t. But in time, a new song will begin."

Out of Sight...Out of Mind

I always look forward to spring. Bedding plants, raking last year’s dead leaves from the flower beds, and cool mornings sitting on the porch are a welcome respite after the snow and ice of winter finally melt away. Then summer arrives. I abandon the fresh air and sunshine for the comfort of air conditioning and settle back in until the thermometer drops below 85 degrees again.

          My husband is an outdoor guy. Year around. He works in the extremes of each season, and he’s at home there. This past week, he has encouraged me to be outside with him more, watering trees and flowers, helping with the mowing and pulling the persistent twigs of grass from dirt that reluctantly surrenders the tiny roots.

          Once outdoors, I enjoy the physical labor of gardening, even on such a small scale. And I love seeing the buds and flowers on the rose and lilac bushes gracing a small fenced-in area on the east side of the house. We have no windows on that side of our home; consequently, as the temperatures rise, my memories of the wonders of spring fade. The small round table and chairs of scrolled metal rich in patina and not so rich in comfort sit idle and empty.

          That gentle nudge from my husband takes me back to tend the otherwise helpless blooms and blades. A surprise of new roses and promising buds await me there. The giant yellow day lilies are majestic and begging to be noticed. The two lilac bushes will explode with lavender petals any day now.

This scene reminds me that beauty is always present in our lives. In the face of intensifying headlines that spell trouble and so many loved ones and acquaintances who are in need of prayer for healing and support can sometimes blot out the beauty that God still supplies. And it reminds me of the gentle nudge of our Heavenly Father drawing me back to His beauty

"When You said, 'Seek My face,' my heart said to You,'Your face, O Lord, I shall seek'"Psalm 27:8 NASB

          There is beauty in the quiet times of prayer and reading God’s Word. There is beauty in the sound of laughter and conversation with family and friends. There is beauty in fresh air and creation with the scents and shades of life growing just beyond a porch or fence. There is beauty in each cloud, whether they are floating lazily across a blue, still sky or embroiled with storms and threats of severe weather. Sunrises. Sunsets. All a reminder that we have a loving God Who is still in control and Who has a plan that is unfolding before our very eyes.

"O God, You are my God; I shall seek You earnestly; My soul thirsts for You, my flesh yearns for You, In a dry and weary land where there is no water. Thus I have seen You in the sanctuary, To see Your power and Your glory." Psalm 63:1,2 NASB

Ms. Know It All

I just dropped in for a cup of tea

And maybe a word or two

It came from Mrs. Soandso;

I know it must be true.

The rumor mill is running hot,

Spewing forth pure gold

With stories full of shocking news. 

The likes have not been told.

It all began when just last night –

Well that part doesn’t matter

I hear Ms. Newintown arrived

And eyes were lookin’ at her

Can’t say for sure, but some folks think

Mr. Deacon is the one

That couldn’t keep his eyes off her.  

He even called her “hon”.

Then there’s that kid that just got caught. 

You know which one I mean?

He’s tall and blond or short and blond,

Or somewhere in between.

Well, anyway, you know those kids;

They lie and steal, then run

I even heard that one of them

Is Pastor Someone’s son! 

The last I heard, Brother Cantdoright

Is in trouble once again.

Seems he fell into an empty pew,

Passed out from too much gin.

The goings on around this place

are enough to make one drink

Guess that’s why Sister SmilesALLthetime

Hides her stash ‘neath the sink.

Now, don’t you go and tell the folks

That you heard this from me.

Why, I just somehow, always seem

Unfortunate to be

Within the earshot of such things

That do go on and on

Lord knows, I hate this job

Of guidin’ everyone along.

But truth is truth, and Good Lord knows,

These things have got to stop

Before the devil has his way

And harvests his sinful crop.

No need to send me flowers

Or give me undue thanks.

Just please be sure to contact ME

Once YOU’ve filled in the blanks.

Nancy K. Sullivan

(c) 11-1-2010

No Regrets

Each day begins anew
And I receive a measure
Of breath to share a moment
That could someday be a treasure.

Shall I but take for granted
My years upon this earth
Not listening to the rhythm
Of my breathing set at birth.

Breath spent cannot return
No matter how I pray
That I can have another chance
To relive a wasted day.

Shall I run breathless through my maze
Letting time pass quickly by
Or choose to direct my path
And catch the memories before they fly.

Each time I breathe a prayer
For His hand to lead me on
I must listen and obey
Before a chance to serve is gone.

The gifts He breathed in me
To be used to glorify
Will wither and fade away
Unless I lift His banner high.

Every breath I have is numbered
And I cannot know when
My voice will become silent
And my life will see its end.

His Spirit gives my soul
The breath to sing and dance
Let not my last words be,
“Please give me one more chance.”

Let me work through each new day
To see each battle won
‘Til the Spirit breathes the words
That say, “My child, a job well done.”

Nancy K. Sullivan
8-22-2010

Holy Bat Man

     You meet the nicest people in a hospital. One of our favorite team members on the hospital staff was the kind man who took care of the lab procedures to track my husband's progress in overcoming pneumonia about three years ago.

     Mr. Moore's (not his real name) warm smile and caring demeanor surely make him a welcome visitor to each patient's room despite the needles and vials that accompany him. And he listens to his patients. 

     After we explained that blood had been drawn and set aside in the ER in case more lab work was needed, he took extra time to track it down and avoided yet another needle stick in my husband's now-perforated arm. He then shared an experience that taught him the importance of really listening to and respecting what his patients say to him:

     A few years earlier in a different hospital Mr. Moore entered the room of an elderly lady who was very ill with cancer. Her extended stay had resulted in a friendship between the two. She was crying. When he asked her why, she told him she was in terrible pain. 

     "Why don't you ask for some pain medication?" 

     "I can't. They think I'm hallucinating."

     "Why do they think you're hallucinating, Mrs. James?" (Again, a fictitious name.)

     "Because I told them there is a bat in my room."

     "There's a bat in your room!"

     Mrs. James nodded in the affirmative.

     Mr. Moore's kind spirit led him to the next question:
    "Can you tell me where this um … bat … is?"

     "Yes. It's behind that chair in the corner."

     Mrs. James' confidant dutifully walked to the designated corner and slowly pulled the chair from its resting place. There it was. A bat. About two inches long, his wings clinging to the wall.

     This particular hospital was an older facility located near a wildlife habitat. The roll-out windows of the hospital could be opened only slightly, but wide enough for the winged rodent to slip inside.

     Mr. Moore immediately contacted security and had the bat removed from her room. He then took the necessary steps to secure the much-needed pain medication for his grateful patient/friend, Mrs. James. How much more suffering would she have had to endure had it not been for the listening heart of a busy professional? I will always remember Mr. Moore’s engaging smile and the way he rescued Mrs. James from the bat no one else bothered to locate.

"Do nothing from selfishness or empty conceit, but with humility of mind regard

one another as more important than yourselves; do not merely look out

for your own personal interests, but also for the interests of others."

(Philippians 2:3-4, NASB)