There is an angel playing a violin outside my window. I can’t tell anyone that he is there because they would think that I am crazy, or worse – they wouldn’t believe me.
    “An old woman’s delusions,” they would say.
    It’s so very hard for adults to believe in miracles, and this is why I decided to remain a child for all of my life.
    What a lovely song this angel is playing, and I am the only one who can hear it; a serenade just for me, a concert of Divine originality. If this angel continues to play much longer I will have to get up and dance to the tune; an aging shadow floating against the wall, moving to an angel’s music. And they all think I’m senile – that’s because they have never learned to think at all – or pray.
    How sad that it takes so long for some of us to hear an angel’s song. How sad that so many are ashamed in their lifetimes to dance to the music that God provides. But this old shadow pirouettes down the halls, past the lives sulking in the corridors afraid to move.
    There is an angel outside my window playing a violin; a lovely gift, and a gentle, loving reminder that God knows exactly where I am. He hasn’t forgotten me. And He wants to remind me that I am listening to only part of the melody; one violin sent down from the orchestra, a solo preview of the grand concert to come.

Forked

The following is based on a true story. No kidding.

A senior gentleman was stabbing at his brussel sprouts and determined that the reason he was having so much trouble impaling the object was that his fork must be too dull.

So one day, unbeknownst to his wife, he took his special fork, (the one he always preferred to use above all others for some strange reason), crept into the basement with it and carefully sharpened it with his file – the one he uses to sharpen knives and weed hackers.

Several days later, while he was resting in the living room, he heard a cry from his wife who was in the kitchen doing the dishes. He rushed in to see what was wrong and she showed him her bleeding thumb. “I cut myself on a fork!” she cried in disbelief. “Look how sharp this is!” she exclaimed showing him the weapon.

He replied calmly as if there was absolutely nothing to be alarmed about. “That’s my special fork. I sharpened it.”

“You sharpened it?!” She cried in horror. “This is dangerous. I’m throwing it out right now!” And she immediately threw open the cabinet door under the sink, pitched the weapon into trash and slammed the door shut.

Concerned about her aging husband’s mental capabilities (he was always a little eccentric, which she found to be endearing, but this was the first time she had ever been physically injured because of it), she began to question him as to why did he have to sharpen a fork and didn’t he know how dangerous it was; he could end up stabbing his tongue or worse.

“I can handle it,” he replied as if he was a trained military combatant, expert in handling dangerous weapons.

“Why didn’t you tell me you planted this mine in my dish water?!” She retorted angrily. “I hurt myself. Why did you do this!?”

“It wasn’t sharp enough,” he replied calmly, as if she would understand, nod her head and agree with him.

This couple had been married for over half a century and had learned the secret of a happy marriage - if you don’t have a sense of humor you are not going to make it.

Immediately the wife began getting images in her mind of her husband in combat uniform violently stabbing the enemies on his plate.

“I know why you did this,” she replied with all the seriousness she could muster. “You are afraid of vegetables and you needed a weapon that would make you feel more secure around them. We are going to immediately begin vegetable therapy until you get to the point where you can actually eat them with your fingers and you won’t need a weapon!” Her voice rose a few decibels toward the end in spite of herself. “We will begin by placing a carrot, a raw one, on your lap and leave it there until you can pet it calmly.”

By now the soldier was laughing, actually they both were.

He retrieved the fork from the trash when she wasn’t looking, washed it and stashed it in a secret place. From that point on he would wash his own fork and maintain his command over the army on his plate.

Humor is a great peacemaker, a weapon of its own and a powerful one. It’s also one of many such devices, like love and kindness that God arms us with to bring us into the category of the blessed.

Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of God. – Matthew 5:9

A Form of Martyrdom

I am currently a hyper-active senior contemplating the last few miles of my journey through this life. Therefore when I was reading Jesus’ prophecy concerning Peter’s last years in John 21:18, it held a particular significance for me. –

“Truly, truly I say to you, when you were young you dressed yourself, and walked where you would: but when you shall be old, you shall stretch forth your hands, and another shall dress you, and carry you where you do not want to go.”

When I am very old, (if I make it that far, Lord willing), there could be a time when someone else will have to dress me and carry me where I do not want to go. As I contemplated Peter’s captivity and martyrdom, I realized that old age is a form of martyrdom. When our bodies cease to function as we would have them, we can become vulnerable to forces and outside influences that are beyond our control. We can enter a period of captivity that must be endured until our souls are released in death.

Peter had been given a heads up about what to expect in his later years to help prepare him to face the future. Likewise all of us also know that old age is our future state if we should live so long.

I noticed in Jesus’ words to Peter that His disciple would “stretch forth your hands.” By the time Peter arrived at that place in his life there would be a voluntary acceptance of his situation. He would be carried along to his fate without resisting. In other words, his attitude enabled him to surrender. Just as Jesus was able to endure His cross “for the joy set before Him” (Hebrews 12:2), I am sure Peter also had his gaze focused upon the same joy that was waiting for him when he passed through the gates of his martyrdom and stepped into glory.

Likewise, those of us who face a future that unwraps the possibility of suffering and certain death, can also emulate Peter and the Lord, by focusing on the joy set before us; our assurance of eternal life through faith in Jesus’ suffering and death on our behalf.

Our faith should give us the ability to welcome our caregivers with a cheerful smile that expresses the hope we have in our Savior. We need to let them see that there is something different about these ones who profess faith in Christ. I am sure that when Peter voluntarily stretched forth his hands to his captors, he did so with the intention of sharing his hope with them.

I am now three quarters of the way up the mountain whose summit is the launching pad for my new adventure into eternity. I know the remainder of my journey may be the most difficult. God’s word and His Spirit are the anchors I use to help me make the climb. “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me” (Philippians 4:13), - and so can you.