In 1973, while I was at Northwest Nazarene college in Nampa, Idaho, I had an opportunity to attend a concert which changed my impression of Christian music forever.
Tag: Faith
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The Scar
“On December 29th, 1973, I took my girlfriend along with 15 kids from two church youth groups to the Mt. Baker Ski Area for a day of inner tube sliding in the snow. After lunch I took the group to a hill outside of the ski area. It was a hill which we had nicknamed ‘Deadman’s Run’ for its length and steepness.
Light snowflakes were falling out of the evening sky as I crunched through the foot-deep snow covering the sidewalk in my hometown. This was something I looked forward to each year; walking the streets of homes in the historic part of town to look at Christmas decorations in their yards and the lights from their windows. Not only were the old homes elegant, but the trees lining the streets, the 100-year-old oaks which had long since lost their leaves, now shimmered with their white snowy coverings. Except for the occasional passing of a car, it was all very still and quiet.
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Glory Train
The Glory train sat at the depot. Its black painted engine, with polished brass piping, head light, and bell, hissed with escaping steam while puffs of coal smoke drifted up through the forward stack. Eight first class passenger cars were attached to the engine and waiting to be loaded. Looking inside the cars, one could see elegant interiors and seating, with tables on which a gourmet meal would be served during the travel. I walked down to the train depot early that Saturday morning, wanting to see if there were passengers, I might know, who were leaving on their journey.
The depot, built many years before, was elevated with its wood planking platform, which surrounded the building, level with the passenger car steps. Streetlights on the platform illuminated the building and the walkways, giving the passengers the feeling of warmth and safety.
The Glory train had only one destination and would make its journey once a day, at noon. The single track, which the cars rolled on, went from the depot, directly into the valley between two high mountain ranges which were covered with timber from the valley upward some two thousand feet. Above that, snow covered the rocky ridges above. The rails in the valley followed the bank of the Crystal River which was fed by the cascading waterfalls flowing from the snowfields above.
Outside, on the passenger platform, groups of people were starting to gather. These groups surrounded a loved-one, whom they were seeing off. There was much hugging and tears, but there was also joy knowing that there would be a reunion again one day. Soon, getting close to the departure hour, the platform was full of family groups — full to the point that groups were now forced to stand in the parking lot in front of the depot. Sadly, it appeared that some passengers were leaving the station without the send-off of family or friends, and those individuals stood by themselves or with other solo travelers.
The passengers were not allowed to enter the cars until the stewards which worked each car, were given the order by the conductor, to open the doors. A half hour before departure, the engineer gave two short toots on the steam whistle and the stewards opened the passenger car doors for the riders. There were final hugs and kisses, and the passengers climbed the steps handing their tickets to the steward. I noticed that none of the passengers boarded the train with any baggage.
At noon, all passengers were seated in their assigned car, they waved through the windows to the friends and families on the platform. The engineer gave one long blast on the steam whistle and the Glory train slowly left the station and started its long journey up the mountain valley along the Crystal River. Its forward stack sent a cloud of black smoke skyward which partially obscured the passenger cars behind. Slowly, the family and friends’ groups left the depot. Many were still dabbing their eyes with handkerchiefs.
The ticket for the Glory train can be purchased at any time in your life, but you do need a ticket to ride. I bought my ticket when I was eighteen years old. The interesting thing is, regardless of when you buy it, you can’t use it until you have been summoned. Which means you might buy your ticket and hold it for many years, or you may be told to immediately get on the train. I had been holding my ticket for 52 years and I had no idea when I would be summoned to use it. Then one day, I received a knock on my door.
When I opened it, there standing before me, was a tall young man dressed sharply in what looked like a chauffeur’s uniform. He removed his hat.
“Mr. T.L. Bottomsly?” he asked.
“Yes,” I answered.
He reached into his formal jacket and produced an envelope which he handed to me. Opening it, I slid out a Deckle-edged, fine quality linen card. The print on it was embossed in gold and read:
“You are hereby summoned to ride the Glory train in two weeks on the 17th at noon. Please use this time to get your house in order.”
I thanked the man, and he replaced his hat, bowed, and returned to his car.
I must say that two feelings surged through my body. One, was joy. That the ride I had waited to take for so long, was now going to happen. The second, was the shock of having to get my house in order and tell my family and friends that I had been summoned.
The next two weeks were chaotic. Family and friends were contacted. I put my house and all my worldly belongings in order. There was no need to take anything of earthly value with me for the trip.
On the 17th, I locked and left my home for the last time, and with only the clothes on my back, I walked to the depot. I wanted to be early and when I arrived, there was only a small group on the platform. The train was there, and the cars were in place. The stewards were inside, busily touching up the interiors for the passengers. In one of the cars, I could smell the aroma of breakfast scones being baked and the strong smell of brewing coffee. I felt the tingle of apprehension knowing that I had waited for so long to ride this train, and once I left the depot, I would never come back to this place where I had lived for so many years.
Slowly, the platform began to fill, and soon a great many friends and family surrounded me, some with tears in their eyes but many with smiles. They all had memories they wanted to share and there were many hugs and kisses. I assured them that I would miss them, but I hoped to see them all again at some point. My final request of them was this: “Buy a ticket. Tell all your family and friends to buy a ticket and we will meet again someday.”
The engineer gave two short toots on the steam whistle and the stewards opened the passenger car doors. I reached into my pocket and produced the old worn ticket which I had held for 52 years. Climbing the steps, I handed it to him and entered the car to find a seat. Looking out the window, I waved to my group.
Inside of my car, the anxious passengers all found a seat. There was much chatter with hugs and handshakes. The seats were comfortable, and the stewards had the temperature adjusted to make sure that everyone was warm. Music played at a low volume through speakers mounted in the ceiling.
“Tea, coffee, and scones will be served after the train begins rolling,” our steward called out. “Please let me know if I can make your ride more comfortable.”
At noon, the engineer gave one long pull of the whistle and the engine slowly started chugging forward. Immediately, the passengers looked out the windows to the depot platform and found their group of family and friends. Everyone waved and blew kisses. There were tears in the cars as well as on the platform.
Once the cars had pulled away from the depot and began rolling up the valley, the thoughts of those who had been left behind, and the life you had before, began to fade away. There was new excitement now – the excitement of what awaited us at the end of the journey.
The stewards, who now took on the look of heavenly beings, began serving the warm drinks and blueberry scones, with as much butter as we wanted. It was also announced that our mid-afternoon meal was being prepared and would be served at 2:00 pm. The seats in the cars were loungers which reclined. The steward announced that there were pillows, slippers, and blankets in the overhead storage bins, should we choose to nap instead of watching our journey outside of the windows. I chose to watch the scenery go by.
As we went up the valley, the tracks travelled over many bridges which crossed the winding, Crystal River. As we crossed, the sun shone brightly on the swiftly flowing current which splashed wildly over the rocks on its journey down the valley. Ducks and migrating geese could be seen in some of the pools. At one point, we passed a spot where the river was cascading over a boulder wall into a pool, and there, we saw four bears who were easily catching salmon who were jumping to get upstream to spawn.
On both sides of the valley, waterfalls could be seen as silver ribbons cascading down the sides of the mountains from the snow fields above. The afternoon sun shone brightly on the snow-covered mountain tops and the sky was a brilliant blue above. Soon, the train began to climb, and it left the Crystal River valley. We slowed as the engine worked hard to climb the grade. It was a daily trip, so I was certain that the engine could do it and not leave us to walk the remainder of the way.
Levelling out again, the train rolled through a mountain meadow. Elk, and moose, grazed in the tall grasses and drank from the ponds. They must have been accustomed to the Glory train passing through, for not one of them were spooked.
At 2:00 pm, the stewards began serving the mid-afternoon meal. Silver platters were brought into each car, each covered with a cloche to keep the food warm. Upon removing the domed covers, we were surprised to find elegantly prepared plates of roast beef, potatoes, beans and Yorkshire pudding, all covered in gravy. Salad and a finely baked dessert were also included. This was indeed a first-class trip.
After we had finished our meals, and the stewards removed our trays, I noticed that the train was continuing to climb higher up into the hills. The trees were thinning, and low blueberry and huckleberry bushes were replacing the Fir forests. I also noticed that we were not far from the base of the snowline. Boulder fields were also replacing the mossy, fern-covered floor of the dark forest. A Hind and a Roe bounded up the mountain side easily leaping from rock to rock.
It was at this time that I heard the engineer pull the steam whistle twice. I asked our steward what that meant.
“It means that we are about to enter the tunnel, sir. It alerts us to make sure that the interior lights are on.”
I looked out my window as far up the tracks as I could see, and sure enough, the engine was about to enter a tunnel. The steward turned up the interior lights at almost the same time that the outside world went black. We were in the tunnel.
“Please take your seats,” the steward called out. “Feel free to recline your seats and get comfortable. Remember that pillows and blankets are available. I will be turning down the lights when you are ready.” When he had seen that we were all seated, he dimmed the lights.
On the upper walls of the tunnel, fluorescent lights were mounted every 100 feet down the length. As our cars rolled under them, the interiors where we sat flashed. Because the train engine wasn’t moving fast when it entered the tunnel, the flashes would happen every five seconds, but soon, the flashes came at four, three, two, and one second until we couldn’t tell that the lights were spaced at all – which was interesting because I could not tell that the engine had increased its speed at all.
I do not know if it was the flashing lights, or my heavy meal, but I found myself drifting into a deep sleep. Talking to other passengers later, I learned that this was true for them also. We slept, traveling through the tunnel, for I don’t know how long, but at some point, as quickly as the train went dark when we entered the tunnel, we burst through into the light as we left it. The passengers started to wake – yawning and stretching their arms and backs.
Now, I cannot aptly describe the land that the Glory train was rolling through. As far as the eye could see on both sides, there were lush farmlands with cattle, horses, pigs, chickens, dogs, and cats. Farmers out working their fields, stopped and waved as the train passed. Rolling past farmhouses and barns, children could be seen playing, and women setting picnic tables for dinner. The children jumped up and down, waving wildly at the train. On a country road following the tracks, two boys on bicycles tried to keep up with the passenger cars – laughing and waving as they pedaled as fast as they could.
The landscape had rolling hills, many of which were planted with all types of fruit and nut trees. There were acres of strawberry, raspberry, and blueberry fields – all of which had pickers in them, filling their baskets. Birds of every type sat in the passing trees and floated in the ponds and lakes, which were clearly stocked with jumping fish. There were even birds and animals which I had never seen before, except in drawings, for they had only been dug up as fossils in different parts of the world.
The flowers were brilliant with colors never seen on the other side of the tunnel, but I must note, that on the other side, I had bad color vision. Others in the car, put their hands over their ears because immediately, they could hear loud and clear. Some, with macular degeneration, cataracts and total blindness, suddenly could see with clarity. They pressed their faces against the window glass unable to speak of the beauty they were seeing. One older man who walked aboard the railcar with such a pronounced stoop, stood up straight and tall with no issues of the back at all. As a matter of fact, we all appeared to have perfect bodies and though we entered the tunnel aged and wrinkled, we appeared now to be young and vital.
Before the train rolled into the tunnel, the sun had set behind the mountains and there was little light outside. As we came out of the tunnel, the light was bright and glorious, and though I scanned the sky, I could not see its source. There were no airplanes above, but besides the birds, there appeared to be what only I can imagine to be angels with their broad white wings stretched out, moving over the skyline of this new land.
As the train continued, we left the farmlands and began passing through residential areas. Here, were lovely cottages, as well as mansions. Each yard was meticulously maintained. The hedges were trimmed, and the lawns mowed. The streets out in front were paved with what looked like gold. People walking the sidewalks waved. Some shouted, “Welcome!”
Finally, the train began to slow. The steward stood and announced, “We are shortly arriving at the Kingdom. Our trip is over.”
The final mile of the travel took us through what might be thought of as the business district. There were many small shops which sold much the same things that we could buy on the other side of the tunnel. The sidewalks on those streets were busy with people carrying purchases. They all waved at the train with a smile.
The train ended its run in what appeared to be a large park. It was the depot where we all were to disembark. It too was beautiful in every way which I have ever seen a park. As the engine applied brakes to the cars, I heard a roar, not unlike being in a large football stadium. Looking outside the windows, we saw thousands of people standing on the lawns and surrounding fields. Many of them held up signs with names on them.
The cars were now stopped at the platform and the passengers stood, unsure of what to do next.
The steward announced, “As I call your name, please step up to me and I will direct you to your group.
“Sadie Clark!”
Sadie walked forward and the steward bent forward and looked out the window.
“Over there, Sadie,” he said pointing.
She looked out and saw her name on a sign far out in the crowd.
“Welcome.” The steward smiled and helped her down the steps.
The crowd on the ground cheered and let her walk through them like a rock star at a concert. The closer she got to her sign, the louder the cheering grew. This happened with every passenger in the car.
“Ted Bottomsly!”
“Right here,” I said, raising my hand. I walked up to him, but had already spotted a sign in the field which read, T.L. Bottomsly.
“I think that I know where I am going,” I said.
Thanking him, I stepped from the car onto the platform into the sea of smiling faces. It was a bit of a struggle at first. Like a salmon swimming upstream, but soon I was within a short distance of my sign. When they saw me, they came at me as a mob, yelling my name, arms in the air.
I could not believe it. There was my mom and dad who had convinced me at an early age to buy my ticket. I saw my grandparents on both sides. I recognized aunts, uncles, and cousins. There were many of my high school friends and of course people I recognized from church, including my Sunday School teachers who also encouraged me greatly to buy my ticket for the train. People I didn’t expect to see were also there, as well as people who said they knew me during my life and bought a ticket because they wanted what I had and knew the ticket would give them that.
It was very, very, noisy with much joy, weeping, hugging and kissing, and then the park grew quiet. I looked at my mom who stood beside me and I wondered what was happening.
“It’s the King. The King is coming to welcome you into his Kingdom.” She pointed outside of the park.
Following her finger, I saw up on a hill, a majestic palace with light radiating from it which must have been the source of this daylight. It had high walls surrounding it made of jasper and the palace itself was made of pure gold, as pure as glass. The foundations of the palace were made of precious stone and the gates were made of pearl.
Coming out of the main gate, I saw a white horse, and on that horse, a rider. Those who were close to the gate dropped to their knees and bowed, and as the rider got closer to the park, everyone began dropping to their knees. I noticed that he wore a white robe and on that robe was written the words, “King of Kings, and Lord of Lords,” As he entered the park, the crowd began singing the words, exactly as Handel had written them for the Hallelujah Chorus. It wouldn’t have surprised me if Handel was somewhere in the crowd directing it himself.
The King walked his horse to an elevated bandstand, and it climbed a ramp and stood in the center of the stage so that all in the park could see him. It was the Jesus that I had imagined, with long flowing hair which didn’t cover all the scars on his forehead. His hands which held the horse’s reins, were nail scarred, as were his feet which hung from the saddleless horse. He wore a broad smile and his face shone with love. Holding up his right hand, the crowd quieted.
“I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End. Welcome, you have entered the dwelling place of God, the Kingdom of Heaven. There will be no more death, mourning, crying, or pain, and I will wipe away every tear from your eyes, for the old order of things has passed away. To him who is thirsty, I will give you drink from the spring of the water of life. Your names are written in the Lamb’s book of life. Be assured that I will meet you and welcome you personally. Until then, come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom which has been prepared for you since the creation of the world.” (Matt 25:34)
With a long toot from the steam whistle, the Glory train backed slowly from the park for its long journey back to the Crystal River depot, to be in place the next morning for a new group of passengers called to the Kingdom.
So, I, T.L. Bottomsly, began my eternal life in the Kingdom of Heaven. But this was only day one. I had eternity to talk with mom and dad and all my family. They were eager to show me the place the King had prepared for me. I would soon be given a tour of the great Kingdom and told of the Kingdom’s ways. I would at some point be given a job to do, and I would be taken to lectures held by the heroes of the Bible and hear concerts given by performers who shared their God-given gifts here now. Lastly, I would be able to talk with Jesus himself to ask him all the “Why” questions I had on the other side of the tunnel.
And to think, none of this would have been mine, had I not purchased my ticket for the Glory train.
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Categories
Forks in the Road
I wake up each morning to face a life which is the result of the choices I have made in the past. Of course, some choices were good, and some were bad, but the result of those choices is what life is today.
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The Pondering Tree
What if a man died on a cross?
What would it matter to me?
Maybe not much, people die all the time.
Maybe I’d care if I knew him.
But what if a man died on a cross
What if He did it for me?
Gave up His life so mine might be spared.
That would be different indeed.
It all started when Moses led the Israelite people out of Egypt. After crossing the Red Sea to flee Pharaoh’s soldiers, they stumbled around in the desert for 40 years.
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The Big Guy
This blog post is my Christian perspective. If you are offended by something like this, please feel free to come back when I post the next satire story.
I am sitting out on my front porch under the hanging bird feeders which I keep filled for the menagerie of wild birds in my yard. The sun is bright and warm on this winter day, and it is very relaxing drinking coffee in my padded wicker chair, while I write my stories.
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The Jim Creek Miracle
Not all stories are embellished for a laugh. Some are 100 percent true.
When I think of a US Naval station or base, I think of battleships, destroyers and aircraft carriers moored on long piers. Jeeps shuttle sailors up and down streets lined with large warehouses filled with supplies while tugs escort submarines into the harbor. The Jim Creek Naval Radio Station shattered that stereotype.
“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for God is with you wherever you go.” Joshua 1:9
Summertime on the Nooksack River, sitting in an inner tube, floating mile after mile in the warmth of the sun. On any hot weekend in July and August the river is spotted with hundreds of floaters drifting as singles or bunched together in groups. When you are young and haven’t many responsibilities, the river is the place to go.
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Why Are You Different?
Zechariah 8:23 (ESV): Let us go with you, for we have heard that God is with you.
As long as I have known my wife Cheryl, she has had a relationship with her Lord that is firmly grounded. If you know her, you know who she lives for and you know that she is not afraid to share the gospel with anyone who seeks her counsel.
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From Duh to Daniel
My wife says that the only reason I have ears is to neutralize the pressure to my Eustachian tubes because obviously I never listen to a single thing she has to say. Apparently she is referring to last Sunday when I met her in the car after church.
“Did you see Mrs. Critchet’s hair? It’s bright blue!” I exclaimed.
“Duh!” she huffed. “I only mentioned it five times this week.”
“Duh”- a three letter word that can drag you to the depths of humiliation.
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With Hands Held Open
** As with all of my inspirational stories, I am writing from my Christian perspective. If this offends you, please return next week for a satire story.
As a Christian, two of the hardest things I have had to learn in my life are: 1) to stand with my hands held open and, 2) not be in control.
Matthew 6:25–27: Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?
I’ve got this hummingbird who hangs out at my feeder. His name is Larry. He has an oversized gut.
When he sits on the feeder, it tilts under his weight and the nectar drips out. I can’t understand how a hummer who uses so much energy to fly could get so fat. When he flies off the feeder, he skims across the lawn trying to gain altitude. I don’t know if his wheezing is what I am hearing or the beating of his wings.
Cheryl asked me, “What mix are you putting in the feeder?’
“One part water to four parts sugar.” I answered.
“Well, no wonder. The mix is supposed to be one part sugar with four parts water. You turned him into a sugar junkie.”
You know, I was thinking about it, and I don’t believe that I have ever seen a fat robin or any other fat birds. This is because God provides all they need, not what they want.
Matthew 6:28–30: And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. 29 Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. 30 If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith?
31 So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ 32 For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. 33 But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. 34 Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.
In my life, my desire has been to be the controller of my destiny, the creator of amazing things, the self-made man. But what I have come to realize is that my life is a continuous series of gifts God gives and God takes away. An amazing list of gifts that He gives to show what He can do through me. He created me as a Jack of all trades and a master of none, but oftentimes better than a master of one.
You see, in my life God has opened doors. I have misunderstood what He was doing and assumed that an open door was an opportunity which was forever, but almost every time God has said, “It is done. Now you are to move on.”
I say to him, “I’m not ready to leave yet.”
To which he answers, “To bad. It’s time.”
My response is, “Well what now?”
He always leads me to the next destination.
Let me walk you through my life. We will go back to when I first started believing that my destiny was exactly where I was and what I was doing at the time. These are examples of why I was confused.
- In high school I fell for a girl who I wanted very much to be more than a girlfriend. This had a tragic ending, as she was killed shortly after we began dating.
- I was trained as a pilot, first in airplanes, then in helicopters. It was going to be my future, working alongside my dad. Then dad was killed in a helicopter crash and the company which he owned closed down. My career as a pilot ended.
- I created my own singing group – The Sonrise Gospel Team. We travelled the Pacific Northwest and British Columbia for seven years. In that time, and since, I have written over 60 songs which have been performed in every imaginable venue: churches, colleges, theaters, weddings, crusades, coffee houses and prisons. I thought I was going to be a performer/ songwriter as a profession. And then it ended.
- I went on to work at the Intalco Aluminum smelter which was where God allowed me to earn my living and I almost made it to retirement when Alcoa pulled the plug on the company. I was without a job and went through what I can only compare to withdrawal as I learned how to be a retiree. I am one who believes that a man is defined by what he does. Without a job, I didn’t know who I was anymore.
- Stories started coming into my head and I wrote them down. I am not a writer. I can only explain the stories as gifts from God. My son-in-law John, and my daughter Kalene, created a blog site for me which I call Mitchellway, and each Saturday I put out a satire or inspirational story for my subscribers. Even though I have written 270 stories, I have no idea how to write stories any more than I know how to write music. They are all gifts and someday God will decide that the stories are done, and they will come no more. And we will again move on.
I also went through a period in my life when I was sure that being an inventor was the way to make my place in the world. These things I applied for patents on:
- The Portable Light-Weight Hunting Tree Stand. It was a great idea, and I got the patent. To prove it worked, I sat all night in an ancient apple tree during a frost and nearly died of hypothermia. Tree stand companies looked at it and tried to steal it. It died.
- The OpenAer Standguard. A plexiglass music stand cover made to protect music from wind and rain during outside concerts. It was patented in the US and Canada. I sold some local and the idea died.
- The Mole Moat was an idea to trap moles. The patent attorney shook his head on this one. It died before any moles did.
- The Mitchell Methane Arrestor. It was a vacuum system connected to a modified toilet seat. When the vacuum was turned on, it drew all unpleasant odors from the bowl, into the vacuum box and through carbon filters which cleaned the air. The glitches in this idea were: 1) the vacuum on the floor next to the toilet had the same decibel level as sitting over the top of a jet engine during takeoff. 2)The vacuum had to be shut off before you could get off the seat. 3)Sitting too long left a nasty mark. 4) Drawing methane gas through the vacuum box, past the sparking vacuum motor caused explosive flashing. Much like the backfire of a car.
- The Osprey Rescue Sling (When There’s No Place To Land and No Time To Waste). The rescue sling was designed to be carried in a bag in light helicopters. If there was a need to lift a person out of an area where the helicopter could not land, the pilot would find a suitable place to land, hook the thirty-foot strap onto the belly-hook of the helicopter, hover over the person and drop the bag out of the helicopter to him. Inside of the bag was a bosun’s chair which the person would sit and buckle himself in. The strap from the helicopter was attached to this chair. The pilot would then lift the helicopter into the air and carry the person below to a suitable landing place.
Of course, I made a prototype but before trying to market it, I needed some advertising brochures. So, to get some advertising photos, I took my good buddy, John Zylstra with me up to Abbotsford airport. John did photo art for his exhibitions at shows and I needed his camera.
A week earlier, I had gone to the airport and had spoken with the owner of the helicopter and told him that I wanted to have some photos taken of me in my sling being suspended under his helicopter. We agreed on a price and set a date for the following Saturday.
When John and I showed up the next Saturday, the owner wasn’t there. Instead, there was another pilot there who said that he would be flying for the job.
There is a hook under the helicopter which opens with a solenoid when the pilot pushes a button on his cyclic. I clipped my strap into the hook and closed it. I then told the pilot that I had brought some chain and I wanted to chain the hook so it couldn’t open. His response was “No”. If I started swinging under the helicopter, he wanted to be able to drop me.
This should have been a warning to me, but I said, “Okay.”
I said. “I want you to hover me to eight feet so John can get underneath and photograph me in the sling under the helicopter.” I figured, what could go wrong at eight feet?
The pilot started the helicopter and I clipped myself into the bosun’s chair and pulled the strap to its full length out in front of the helicopter. As he lifted the helicopter off the ground, he rose until the strap was tight and he began lifting me into the air. Once I was eight feet up, I saw John beginning to take photos. Then I realized that the helicopter was moving, and we were moving faster, and the faster we moved, the higher he lifted me off the ground. Suddenly, he was flying 40 mph and climbing. He climbed the length of the Abbotsford runway and then he flew to pattern altitude – 800 feet.
Now, here is what happens when you are in a bosun’s chair under a helicopter flying 60 mph at 800 feet hanging by an unsecured hook. You begin worrying a bit.
The first thing that happened is that because my feet were hanging below me, the wind caught them and weathervaned me so that I was facing backwards. This is an uncomfortable feeling because if I drop from 800 feet going backwards, I am going to land on my back, which would hurt. If I dropped facing forward, I could possibly do a front roll and not get hurt.
I began looking for places that I might want to land if I fell. For instance, there was a ditch full of water. I could do a cannonball. It wouldn’t be pretty, but I would survive. I also noticed the top of fir trees, rows of raspberries, even the roof of a hanger . . . all possibilities.
I noticed a seagull that was flying the same direction as I was. (Although he was flying forward, and I was flying backwards). He looked at me and went, “AWK!”
I shrugged my shoulders and yelled, “I know, right?”
The pilot only went around the pattern once. As we flew past the control tower, I noticed the tower operator standing at the window watching me through his binoculars. I waved. I can’t imagine what he was screaming into his radio to the pilot.
As the helicopter lowered me to the ground, John was still shooting pictures. He ran up to me and asked, “Did you intend to do that?”
When the pilot got out of the helicopter, I ran up to him and screamed, “What were you thinking? I asked you to hover, at eight feet.”
“Yeh, sorry,” he said. “It kind of got away from me.”
As it turned out, he was a student pilot who was building his hours so he could get his license.
This verse came to me as I was flying through the Abbotsford skyline like Peter Pan:
Matthew 10:29–31: Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care. 30 And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. 31 So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.
The title of this story is: With Hands Held Open
Each of our lives are different, but for me I have found that God gives me my blessings, gifts, and encouragement. I believe that every good and creative thing in my life has been a gift from God.
Psalms 116:12,13 says: “So now, what can I ever give back to God to repay him for the blessings he’s poured out on me? I will lift up his cup of salvation and praise him extravagantly for all that he’s done for me.”
James 1:17 says: “Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.”
But those blessings may only be for a time and then he removes them and moves me on. Why, I can only guess.
Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 says:
There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under the heavens:
2 a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
3 a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
4 a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
5 a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
6 a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
7 a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
8 a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.
I also know that I can misunderstand what I think God’s will is for my life, which is confusing.
James 4:13-15 says: “Now listen, you who say, ‘Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money.’ Why, you don’t even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes. Instead, you ought to say, ‘If it is the Lord’s will, we will live and do this or that.’”
God loves us and has a wonderful plan for our lives. God blesses us and wants us to know that he is the giver of those blessings. The hope is that we will realize that the Father desires us to recognize his blessings and that we draw closer in relationship with Him as the loving God that he is.
Alistair Begg wrote: “You will never know Jesus Christ as a reality in your life until you know Him as a necessity.” As the giver of everything.
I think that it is best to keep my hands held open. To be able to receive what God has for me, and to be able to release it when it’s time to be taken away. It is always better that I do not hold tightly to anything that he is planning to remove because he will only tear it out of my hands. Who can fight against God?
Jeremiah 18:4 says: But the pot he was shaping from the clay was marred in his hands; so the potter formed it into another pot, shaping it as seemed best to him.
It is painful being reshaped into something better, but I keep going back to the song that started me in Gospel music. It was written by Andrae’ Crouch and was entitled, “Through it All.” I listened to it over and over. The chorus goes:
“Through it all, Through it all, I’ve learned to trust in Jesus, I’ve learned to trust in God. Through it all, Through it all, I’ve learned to depend upon his word.”
There is no way to learn of faith except through trials.
Lastly, a familiar story found in Job 1:6-21:
6 One day the angels came to present themselves before the Lord, and Satan also came with them. 7 The Lord said to Satan, “Where have you come from?”
Satan answered the Lord, “From roaming throughout the earth, going back and forth on it.”
8 Then the Lord said to Satan, “Have you considered my servant Job? There is no one on earth like him; he is blameless and upright, a man who fears God and shuns evil.”
9 “Does Job fear God for nothing?” Satan replied. 10 “Have you not put a hedge around him and his household and everything he has? You have blessed the work of his hands, so that his flocks and herds are spread throughout the land. 11 But now stretch out your hand and strike everything he has, and he will surely curse you to your face.”
12 The Lord said to Satan, “Very well, then, everything he has is in your power, but on the man himself do not lay a finger.”
Then Satan went out from the presence of the Lord.
13 One day when Job’s sons and daughters were feasting and drinking wine at the oldest brother’s house, 14 a messenger came to Job and said, “The oxen were plowing and the donkeys were grazing nearby, 15 and the Sabeans attacked and made off with them. They put the servants to the sword, and I am the only one who has escaped to tell you!”
16 While he was still speaking, another messenger came and said, “The fire of God fell from the heavens and burned up the sheep and the servants, and I am the only one who has escaped to tell you!”
17 While he was still speaking, another messenger came and said, “The Chaldeans formed three raiding parties and swept down on your camels and made off with them. They put the servants to the sword, and I am the only one who has escaped to tell you!”
18 While he was still speaking, yet another messenger came and said, “Your sons and daughters were feasting and drinking wine at the oldest brother’s house, 19 when suddenly a mighty wind swept in from the desert and struck the four corners of the house. It collapsed on them and they are dead, and I am the only one who has escaped to tell you!”
20: At this, Job got up and tore his robe and shaved his head. Then he fell to the ground in worship. (Did he curse God? No, he worshiped. Did he question God? No, he worshiped.)
21 Then he said: “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked I will depart. The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised.”
I have found that as God removes me from one adventure, he places me in another because He is always in control.
Consider living before God with your hands held open.
** All scripture verses are from the New International Version Bible
Faith Family Life Getting Older Growing Up Misadventures Music Patriotism Pets or Pests? Snips Tributes
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The Man And The Maple
A man sat alone on the side of a river. Next to a cottage he made himself.
And by the shore stood a tall red maple. A tree that the man loved very much.
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Little Baby Boy
In the fall of 1974, at the start of my songwriting career, I was given the song for Christmas entitled “Little Baby Boy.” That was 50 years ago.
As with all the music and stories I have written, I consider them all to be gifts from God and not a talent which I have.
December of 1973, my girlfriend was killed in a sliding accident at the local ski area. The grief for an 18-year-old was beyond belief. It was because of the support of my church, Pastor, and the teens in the youth group who believed in my music that I was able to climb out of the depression. With the backing of our high school youth group, I was able to perform “Little Baby Boy” for the first time at the church in December of 1974. It has always been a favorite that has been requested through the last 50 years.
The video clip filmed in 2022 is of an old me and my wife Cheryl performing the song at Christmas. I hope you will enjoy the song too.
Little Baby Boy (Lyrics)
Little baby boy, dressed in swaddlin’ clothes,
Lyin’ in a manger, so many years ago.
Little baby boy, little baby boy, how I love you so.
Little baby boy, born the highest King.
Through the years we’ve turned around
What Christmas morning means.
Little baby boy, little baby boy, how I love you so.
We took the Christmas story, and we laid it on a shelf.
We traded baby Jesus for a jolly little elf.
But did Santa hang upon the cross and die for all our sins?
And can he give us happiness long after Christmas ends?
Can Santa cause the blind to see and cause the deaf to hear?
Can you get to heaven on a sleigh and eight reindeer?
That’s why I say little baby boy, little baby boy, how I love you so.
Little baby boy, dressed in swaddlin’ clothes,
Lyin’ in a manger, so many years ago.
Little baby boy, little baby boy, how I love you so.
And on that Christmas morning
When the church bells start to ring
I’m going to celebrate that day as the birthday of the King.
Little baby boy, little baby boy, how I love you so.
Little baby boy, dressed in swaddlin’ clothes,
Lyin’ in a manger, so many years ago.
Little baby boy, little baby boy, how I love you so.
Little Baby Boy (c) 1974 P.M. Mitchell
Faith Family Life Getting Older Growing Up Misadventures Music Patriotism Pets or Pests? Snips Tributes
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