JUST BE THERE

A nurse took the tired, anxious serviceman to the bedside. "Your son is here," she said to the old man. She had to repeat the words several times before the patient's eyes opened.

Heavily sedated because of the pain of his heart attack, he dimly saw the young uniformed Marine standing outside the oxygen tent. He reached out his hand. The Marine wrapped his toughened fingers around the old man's limp ones, squeezing a message of love and encouragement.

The nurse brought a chair so that the Marine could sit beside the bed. All through the night the young Marine sat there in the poorly lighted ward, holding the old man's hand and offering him words of love and strength. Occasionally, the nurse suggested that the Marine move away and rest awhile. He refused.

Whenever the nurse came into the ward, the Marine was oblivious of her and of the night noises of the hospital - the clanking of the oxygen tank, the laughter of the night staff members exchanging greetings, the cries and moans of the other patients. Now and then she heard him say a few gentle words. The dying man said nothing, only held tightly to his son all through the night.

Along towards dawn, the old man died. The Marine released the now lifeless hand he had been holding and went to tell the nurse. While she did what she had to do, he waited.

Finally, she returned. She started to offer words of sympathy, but the Marine interrupted her, "Who was that man?" he asked.

The nurse was startled, "He was your father," she answered.

"No, he wasn't," the Marine replied. "I never saw him before in my life."

"Then why didn't you say something when I took you to him?"

"I knew right away there had been a mistake, but I also knew he needed his son, and his son just wasn't here. When I realized that he was too sick to tell whether or not I was his son, knowing how much he needed me, I stayed. I came here tonight to find a Mr. William Grey. His Son was killed in Iraq today, and I was sent to inform him. What was this Gentleman's Name? "

The nurse with tears in her eyes answered, "Mr. William Grey........."

The next time someone needs you ... just be there. Stay.

( The author to this story is unknown, but the spirit behind the story needs to be known.)

THE LUCK OF THE IRISH

Have you ever reflected upon your life, perhaps believing that your struggles were beyond that which you could endure?  If you study the history of your ancestors, it becomes clear that many of our trials are insignificant compared to the those who came before us.

My great grandfather lived in Ireland during 1846 and the blight of a potato crop that left acres of Irish farmland covered with black rot.

As harvests across Europe failed, the price of food soared.  Irish farmers found their food storage rotting in their cellars, the crops they relied on to pay the rent to their British and Protestant landlords. Peasants who ate the rotten produce sickened and entire villages were consumed with cholera and typhus.

Landlords evicted hundreds of thousands of peasants, who then crowded into disease-infested workhouses. Other landlords paid for their tenants to emigrate, sending hundreds of thousands of Irish to America and other English-speaking countries. But, even emigration was not a perfect remedy.  Shipowners often crowded hundreds of desperate Irish onto rickety vessels that were labeled "coffin ships." In many cases, these ships reached port only after losing a third of their passengers to disease, hunger and other afflictions.

The Irish Famine of 1846-50 took as many as one million lives from hunger and disease, and changed the social and cultural structure of Ireland in profound ways. The famine also spurred new waves of immigration and shaped the history of the United States.

My great grandfather, Robert McElhaney, was born December 25, 1825, in Donegal, Cork, Ireland.  He and his younger brother, Samuel, were the only children born into their family.  It's not known for certain what misfortune took the lives of their parents, but records show that they were orphaned as small children.  Genealogy records show that both parents died and the young boys were raised by grandparents.

At the age of twenty, Robert migrated to America in 1846.  Records show that he traveled by ship across the North Atlantic toward the new land where he landed near Pennsylvania. (I was twenty years old when I prepared to attend college at the University of Idaho. I can't even imagine boarding a ship alone, sailing away from my family to a foreign country.)  He likely had little to nothing in his pockets and no employment when he arrived at the shoreline.  Like many who came to this country, my great grandfather faced the unknown, from the moment he stepped foot on American soil.

May we never have to worry about our next meal or where it will come from.  May we never look for shelter underneath a bridge or wander through the streets with all our earthly belongings in a knapsack.   I hope that we will never see anyone die of starvation or find ourselves boarding a ship to sail away from our homeland.  Those who have gone on before us became the backbone of America and they provided a better way of life for others to enjoy.  I am thankful for my great grandfather's voyage.  I believe that one of the most blessed privileged of living in this country, for me, began with the luck of my Irish grandfather's journey to America.   Written by Linda Sumner Urza for One fine day.

THE GOOD SAMARITAN

With all your differences in personal circumstances and past experiences, there are precious opportunities and blessing that lie ahead.  There may be times when you will find yourself invited by the Lord to serve someone in need and perhaps at a time when it will not seem convenient. It may appear to be an unpleasant and perhaps even impossible task. When the call comes, you may rationalize that you are not needed or that surely someone else could easily do the task.

Remember that when the Lord lets us encounter someone in distress, we honor the good Samaritan for what he did not do, as much as for what he did. He did not pass by on the other side even though the beaten traveler on the road was a stranger and perhaps an enemy. He did what he could for the beaten man and then put in place a specific plan for others to do more. He did that because he understood that helping may require more than what one person can do.

            Luke 10:25-37
“And, behold, a certain lawyer stood up, and tempted him, saying, Master, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?

“He said unto him, What is written in the law? how readest thou?

“And he answering said, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy strength, and with all thy mind; and thy neighbour as thyself.

“And he said unto him, Thou hast answered right: this do, and thou shalt live.

“But he, willing to justify himself, said unto Jesus, And who is my neighbour?

“And Jesus answering said, a certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among thieves, which stripped him of his raiment, and wounded him, and departed, leaving him half dead.

“And by chance there came down a certain priest that way: and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side.

“And likewise a Levite, when he was at the place, came and looked on him, and passed by on the other side.

“But a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was: and when he saw him, he had compassion on him,

“And went to him, and bound up his wounds, pouring in oil and wine, and set him on his own beast, and brought him to an inn, and took care of him.

“And on the morrow when he departed, he took out two pence, and gave them to the host, and said unto him, Take care of him; and whatsoever thou spendest more, when I come again, I will repay thee.

“Which now of these three, thinkest thou, was neighbour unto him that fell among the thieves?

“And he said, He that shewed mercy on him. Then said Jesus unto him, Go, and do thou likewise.”

The only earthy possession that anyone will take with them when they enter into the next life, will be their good works. 

By Linda Sumner Urza, written for One fine day