Inspirational Stories #13

Parachutes

Charles Plum, a U.S. Naval Academy graduate, was a jet fighter pilot in Vietnam. After 75 combat missions, his plane was destroyed by a surface-to-air missile. Plumb ejected and parachuted into enemy hands. He was captured and spent six years in a Communist prison. He survived that ordeal and now lectures about lessons learned from that experience.

One day, when Plumb and his wife were sitting in a restaurant, a man at another table came up and said, "You're Plumb! You flew jet fighters in Vietnam from the aircraft carrier Kitty Hawk. You were shot down!"

"How in the world did you know that?" asked Plumb.

"I packed your parachute," the man replied. Plumb gasped in surprise and gratitude. The man pumped his hand and said, "I guess it worked!"

Plumb assured him, "It sure did -- if your chute hadn't worked, I wouldn't be here today."

Plumb couldn't sleep that night, thinking about that man. Plumb says, "I kept wondering what he might have looked like in a Navy uniform -- a Dixie cup hat, a bib in the back, and bell bottom trousers. I wondered how many times I might have passed him on the Kitty Hawk. I wondered how many times I might have seen him and not even said 'Good morning, how are you,' or anything because, you see, I was a fighter pilot and he was just a sailor."

Plumb thought of the many hours the sailor had spent on a long wooden table in the bowels of the ship carefully weaving the shrouds and folding the silks of each chute, holding in his hands each time the fate of someone he didn't know.

Now, Plumb asks his audience, "Who's packing your parachute? Everyone has someone who provides what they need to make it through the day." Plumb also points out that he needed many kinds of parachutes when his plane was shot down over enemy territory -- he needed his physical parachute, his mental parachute, his emotional parachute, and his spiritual parachute. He called on all these supports before reaching safety. His experience reminds us all to prepare ourselves to weather whatever storms lie ahead.

SUGGESTION: Recognize and be gracious to people who pack your daily parachutes, and strengthen yourself to prevail through tough times.

- Charles Plum

The Little Loaf

Once, when there was a famine, a rich baker sent for twenty of the poorest children in the town and said to them, "In this basket there is a loaf for each of you. Take it, and come back to me every day till God sends us better times."

The hungry children gathered eagerly about the basket, and quarreled for the bread, because each wished to have the largest loaf. At last they went away without even thanking the good man.

But Gretchen, a poorly dressed little girl, did not quarrel or struggle with the rest, but remained standing modestly a pace away. When the ill-behaved children had left, she took the smallest loaf, which alone was left in the basket, kissed the man's hand, and went home.

The next day the children were as ill-behaved as before, and poor, timid Gretchen received a loaf scarcely half the size of the one she got the first day. When she came home, and her mother cut the loaf open, many new, shining pieces of silver fell out of it.

"What Really Matters?"

If my days were untroubled and my heart always light,
Would I seek that fair land where there is no night?

If I never grew weary with the weight of my load,
Would I search for God's peace at the end of the road?

If I never knew sickness and never felt pain,
Would I search for a hand to help and sustain?

If I walked without sorrow and lived without loss,
Would my soul seek solace at the foot of the cross?

If all I desired was mine day by day,
Would I kneel before God and earnestly pray?

If God sent no winter to freeze me with fear,
Would I yearn for the warmth of spring every year?

I ask myself these and the answer is plain,
If my life were pleasure and I never knew pain.

I'd seek God less often and need Him much less,
For God is sought more often in times of distress.

And no one knows God or sees Him as plain,
As those who have met Him on the "Pathway of Pain."

-Author Unknown

The Good Stuff

I recently had lunch with an old friend. I and my eleven month old son, that is. After telling her how much my life had changed since Zachary's birth, there was a moment of silence. Pam looked at me with a strained smile on her face and said, "All I ever hear about parenting is the bad stuff. Tell me about the good."

She picked a bad day to ask that question.

I had spent that morning hustling around feeding Zachary, cleaning up after an incredibly messy breakfast, preparing his meals for the day, packing his lunch, trying for an hour and a half to get him to take a nap, making sure the car was loaded with Christmas presents for a family we sponsored, arranging to drop off those presents, preparing for the Realtor to come by to inspect the house and trying to squeeze in a shower. I managed to do it all before noon even with a husband who was home sick for the day.

Needless to say I was more than a little harried that afternoon and she wanted to know about the good stuff!

I have to admit she caught me off guard and I regret that my answer to her was a little weak. If she was to ask me that question now, when things are less chaotic, my answer would be different .

Sometimes the "good stuff" is like Robin Williams' fast paced, hit and run one liners. Zachary will do something so unexpected and so precious. I'm constantly wishing I had access to an instant replay button so I could anticipate and savor the moment. For example, the other day I was sitting on the floor with him. I was half watching him, half watching television, when he came charging at me full speed. With his face lit up like a sixty watt bulb and his mouth opened wide, he threw his arms around my neck. His little face collided, sweetly, but forcefully with mine. He was loving me with all twenty two pounds, eight ounces and then he was off to play with his toys again. It was short and sweet, but the message was loud and clear, "I love you, Mommy!"

Then there are those cute things, again unexpected but revitalizing, like when the carpenters came to beef up the security around the house. They were here only a short while, but as they left, Zachary waved bye bye to them. He only recently learned "bye bye" and until now it has taken considerable coercion to get him to respond when someone leaves. The message, "All the work you do to teach me things pays off. Thank you for spending time with me."

Then there are those first time milestone moments. Walking. Clapping hands. Understanding words like "ball" and "book." Squealing with excitement when Daddy comes home from work. Dancing to his favorite Mother Goose sing along video. These are all things that wipe away the clouds of fatigue, the storms of worry and the deluge of doubts. Because of these moments, all the negatives are worth it and then some. There is no amount of poopie diapers or debt or discouragement that surpasses the joy I feel as I watch my son grow and learn and love.

Even when those frustrating, fearful times arrive when he's sick, I can't fix it and he can't tell me where it hurts, my "mommy" heart is full. Full of love and compassion and thankfulness. It is then that I realize, more than any other time, just how much I love him and how fortunate I am to have him. It's in the midst of these moments that I am amazed because I never knew I could love this much. So much that no matter how tired I am I don't mind rocking him and comforting him. So much that I wish it was me that was sick or hurting instead of him. So much that I feel if I lost him, I would die. Even these times are priceless because they bring me back to what's important. And anything that makes you realize what's important is good.

Perhaps the best "good stuff" is being Zachary's mother has revealed my heavenly Father's heart to me in a real and personal way. It's through my love for Zachary that for the first time in my life I have been able to see God's love for me clearly.

Love that touches and teaches.

Love that disciplines and forgives.

Love that laughs and applauds and soars.

Love that sacrifices.

Because there is nothing my child can do to destroy my love for him, because that love is a product of who he is not what he does, I know that my heavenly Father can love me no less. Just as Zachary is my son, I am my Father's daughter.

These are the kinds of good stuff that work their way into my heart and keep me warm amidst the chills of chaos and crisis, even if I can't put the syllables together to articulate the point! Sure, I may complain about the constant exhaustion, the never ending mounds of laundry and seldom getting to "go out" with my husband alone. But all this stuff is just "stuff." It will pass away. The "good stuff," however, will always be with me. Right here where nothing and no one can take it away. It's what makes my life so rich.

-by Mary Lawrence Comm

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