When One Door Closes, God Opens Another

When One Door Closes, God Opens Another

Good Morning Friends,

 Now that Wednesday has arrived we can move on. :-) The story today is a reminder that through tragedy, Good things can happen. I hope you find it worth the read. The Holiday's are closing in quickly, Take time to enjoy the spirit of the season, I know for some it can be stressful with all the things to accomplish, but only You can make it enjoyable. Today I am Thankful for all the people that help in the food kitchens and delivering Thanksgiving dinner to those unable to make it out or be able to be with family. The season is about giving Thanks for what we have, please don't lose sight of that.

 

 

“There is no value in life except what you choose to place upon it and no happiness in any place except what you bring to it yourself.”

~ Henry David Thoreau

 

   

 

Mom’s Last Laugh

 

Consumed by my loss, I didn’t notice the hardness of the pew where I sat. I was at the funeral of my dearest friend — my mother. She finally had lost her long battle with cancer. The hurt was so intense, I found it hard to breathe at times.

 

Always supportive, mother clapped loudest at my school plays, held a box of tissues while listening to my first heartbreak, comforted me at my father’s death, encouraged me in college, and prayed for me my entire life.

 

When mother’s illness was diagnosed, my sister had a new baby and my brother had recently married his childhood sweetheart, so it fell on me, the 27-year-old middle child without entanglements, to take care of her. I counted it an honor.

 

“What now, Lord?” I asked sitting in church. My life stretched out before me as an empty abyss. My brother sat stoically with his face toward the cross while clutching his wife’s hand.

 

My sister sat slumped against her husband’s shoulder, his arms around her as she cradled their child. All so deeply grieving, no one noticed I sat alone. My place had been with our mother, preparing her meals, helping her walk, taking her to the doctor, seeing to her medication, reading the Bible together. Now she was with the Lord. My work was finished and I was alone.

 

I heard a door open and slam shut at the back of the church. Quick footsteps hurried along the carpeted floor. An exasperated young man looked around briefly and then sat next to me. He folded his hands and placed them on his lap. His eyes were brimming with tears.

 

He began to sniffle. “I’m late,” he explained, though no explanation was necessary. After several eulogies, he leaned over and commented, “Why do they keep calling Mary by the name of ‘Margaret’?”

 

“Oh” “Because that was her name, Margaret. Never Mary. No one called her ‘Mary,’ I whispered. I wondered why this person couldn’t have sat on the other side of the church. He interrupted my grieving with his tears and fidgeting. Who was this stranger anyway?

 

“No, that isn’t correct,” he insisted, as several people glanced over at us whispering, “Her name is Mary, Mary Peters.”

 

“That isn’t who this is, I replied..”

 

“Isn’t this the Lutheran church?”

 

“No, the Lutheran church is across the street.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“I believe you’re at the wrong funeral, Sir.”

 

The solemnness of the occasion mixed with the realization of the man’s mistake bubbled up inside me and came out as laughter.

 

I cupped my hands over my face, hoping it would be interpreted as sobs.

 

The creaking pew gave me away. Sharp looks from other mourners only made the situation seem more hilarious. I peeked at the bewildered, misguided man seated beside me. He was laughing, too, as he glanced around, deciding it was too late for an uneventful exit.

 

I imagined mother laughing.

 

At the final “Amen,” we darted out a door and into the parking lot. “I do believe we’ll be the talk of the town,” he smiled. He said his name was Rick and since he had missed his aunt’s funeral, asked me out for a cup of coffee.

 

That afternoon began a lifelong journey for me with this man who attended the wrong funeral, but was in the right place.

 

A year after our meeting, we were married at a country church where he was the assistant pastor. This time we both arrived at the same church, right on time. In my time of sorrow, God gave me laughter. In place of loneliness, God gave me love. This past June we celebrated our twenty-second wedding anniversary. Whenever anyone asks us how we met, Rick tells them, “Her mother and my Aunt Mary introduced us, and it’s truly a match made in heaven.”

 

Author Unknown

 

 

 

A little humor to brighten your day:

 

 For a couple years I 've been blaming it on lack of sleep and too much pressurefrom my job, but now I found out the real reason: I'm tired because I'm overworked. The population of this country is 237 million. 104 million are retired.That leaves 133 million to do the work. There are 85 million in school, whichleaves 48 million to do the work. Of this there are 29 million employed by thefederal government, leaving 19 million to do the work. 2.8 million are in theArmed Forces, which leaves 16.2 million to do the work. Take from the total the14,800,000 people who work for State and City Governments and that leaves 1.4million to do the work. At any given time there are 188,000 people in hospitals,leaving 1,212,000 to do the work. Now, there are 1,211,998 people in prisons.That leaves just two people to do the work. You and me. And you're sitting atyour computer reading jokes.

 

Make your day what it needs to be by leading from your heart!

 

msorg424@aol.com

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