I am standing at the intersection and fumbling with my cell phone. I have no clue in which direction to go. I've always had problems reading maps. I hoped that the Google map will help me, but no way - the red dot is moving along with me to the one side, then to the other, forward and backward. Where am I? Finally I have found my whereabouts and start moving toward the bookstore. It's called "Come in". A pretty good name for a shop. Responding to the invitation I dive into the huge kingdom of books! Only English books are available and the choice is overwhelming!
I enjoy reading. Especially life stories. As I visit a bookstore, I always ask God to show me what is best for me at this stage of life. I let my eyes wander over the packed shelves. The long array of volumes looks like a string of colorful beads. I have no idea where to start. I move over to the Department of Religion and Philosophy. Sounds boring and it is. As usual, Oriental religions and esoteric literature are widely represented. Suddenly I notice a small, inconspicuous green book ‘The Noticer’ by Andy Andrew. Immediately I know it's mine. Andy Andrew is a New York Times best-selling author. I remember reading about him on the Internet recently. I pay for the book and return home, excited. I feel like a child who has received a gift, but does not know yet what's inside. On the front cover a woman (probably well-known in the USA) writes: "This is the best book I have ever read." I am intrigued. There are also some other no less important words, but at that point I do not pay attention to them. A short flashback. I am almost 40 years old and. While reviewing my life, it seems like a valley of sorrow. All the good things seem to have been erased from my memory as if they have never been. I am sinking in a pool of sad memories from the past. I am feeling miserable. Suddenly an idea enters my mind – perhaps I could write down all the tragic events and hand in a complaint to God! Ha ha! But seriously speaking, I would like to ask Him - why? This is not the life I have been looking forward to! How can it be that a tornado that hits Latvia no more than once in fifteen years, targets a tree breaking it like a match, and it falls upon my dad, peeling off his scalp, breaking his legs and spine? Three years before this event, my mother is almost died, my son is lost in the mountains while skiing. I could go on and on but I will stop here. During these past years, death has approached my loved ones several times. However, it did not have the last word. So God was here, He protected them. Isn’t that what matters most? Unfortunately, I do not understand it yet. But God is a loving Father - He wants to help me understand. So, on a Saturday, I have a feeling that this time I have to go to another church - God shows me to which one. I've never been there before, but I know where it is. I am reluctant to go alone and start to consider if I know someone from that church and, yes - I remember! It’s Linda. I send her a text message, but her reply makes me sad – she has other plans. I pray and leave it in God’s hands. In the morning I get a message from Linda - she will go with me. I am so excited! I know I have to be there. We are a bit late, and as we enter the church, I hear the pastor reading the Bible verse, which I have heard twice this week. My anticipation grows. Sometimes God has to repeat himself three times until we hear. But it is not the only surprise that my Father has prepared for me - the most significant part is still ahead. The sermon begins with the words: "This morning I asked God what I should say to the church, and He gave me only one word: REMEMBER!" At this point I smile to myself: of course, it is my topic, exactly what I must hear - not to list tragedies and disasters, but to REMEMBER, how God has saved and never abandoned me! It seems that a dark veil has fallen off my eyes and I see my life in a completely different light. Yeah, Father, you saved my dad, my mom, my son was found, and even when things did not go so well, you were there, I remember you were with me, Father. Always and everywhere. But it is not the last surprise! Suddenly in the middle of the sermon the pastor pauses and eyes the congregation with an intent look. It seems that it stops right at me. Not because I would think that the pastor could read my thoughts, but because my eyes are wide open – deep in my heart I know that through this man I am about to receive a teaching from God. The pastor continues: "I do not know why I am saying it now, because it's not written in my notes, but listen: if you're depressed, if sadness has overcome you, if you cannot sleep at night, tossing and turning in your bed, then stop watching these dark and pessimistic movies! Instead REMEMBER what God has done for you. "If it were a gunshot, it would be a direct hit on the target. Just this week I had watched the movie "The Pianist", which depicts life in a concentration camp. A very depressive movie. I love it. While comparing my life with, for example, the horrors of war, it’s comforting to see that it is not so difficult after all. Enough! I heard what the pastor said! Here I am - at the beginning of a new journey! My Heavenly Father has suffered my complaining for years, has been patient with my victim’s syndrome and has decided to put end to it - exactly on March 21, 2010. These events are recorded in my journal – all of them – so that I REMEMBER. I obey God and begin to REMEMBER more and more. All the good things, all the blessings. I start to thank God! Gradually I come to the point where I can thank God also for the tragic events, because I see the His presence in them. It changes my inner being –instead of being a complainer I become a woman with a grateful heart. As one pastor wrote: "Grumbling, complaining and ingratitude in fact are not addressed to circumstances, but to God. To guard against spiritual amnesia, every effort must be made to recapture God's gracious help. "(Steven Lee, Desiring God, March 23, 2015) It is the end of March, and I have begun reading Andy Andrew's book. The past years have been both good and hard, but lately I have rediscovered the grumbler’s trail. Not without reason. After a terminal illness, my mother has departed. Unconsciously the list of sorrows steals back into my mind and gratitude retreats. The words that I missed when I began reading the book were these: "Sometimes, the only thing one needs is a little change of perspective.” It turns out I have not gone anywhere far - I have to begin my studies in God’s school all over again. As I arrive at page 13, I start smiling again. The two main characters of the story are talking: one of them is a young guy who has lost both mother and father in a short time. He feels himself totally abandoned. Moreover, he has no roof over his head. He thinks that God has left and forsaken him. The other is an old man named Jones, who probably symbolizes Jesus. He has brought some food. The young man slipps out from under the bridge, and they are sitting in the sand on the ocean shore, enjoying sardines and Vienna sausages. The guy does not really appreciate this moment because he cannot change his perspective. Just like me. Then the old man says, "Young man, you see only the sand under your feet and the food that you wish would be something else. I do not blame you, your views are very common. Most people are just like you - they hate who they are, what they eat and what they drive. Most never imagine that there are millions of people in this world who lack the blessings and opportunities that we enjoy, millions of people who have no food, no hope of ever owning a car. Yes, the situation you are in is not easy. But there are also countless gains hidden in it." Jones fell silent. Then he lifted his eyes and said: "Here, young man, is a Law of the universe. Undeniably there are a lot more of them, but this is especially true of your present life. Remember, what you focus on, is growing. If you focus on what you lack, "he continued," you will see that you will lack more and more. If you think about what you do not have, you will soon notice other things that you had forgotten that you do not have - and feel even worse! If you focus on what you have lost, you will lose even more ... But, if you are looking upon your life with gratitude, you will experience happiness and abundance. "1 I have to face the truth. Where did my gratitude go? Do I remember all the good things? Am I ready to file a complaint to God again? How about you? What do you REMEMBER? You've probably heard the beautiful song "10 000 Reasons". When you start feeling that your heart’s pool of gratitude is draining, take a piece of paper and start writing. How many reasons for gratitude can you find -10 000 or perhaps 100 000? 10000 Reasons The sun comes up, it’s a new day dawning It’s time to sing Your song again Whatever may pass and whatever lies before me Let me be singing when the evening comes Bless the Lord Bless the Lord Oh my soul, oh my soul Worship His holy name Sing like never before Oh my soul I’ll worship Your holy name You’re rich in love And You’re slow to anger Your name is great And Your heart is kind For all Your goodness I will keep on singing 10, 000 Reasons for my heart to find Bless the Lord, oh my soul Bless the Lord Oh my soul, oh my soul Worship His holy name Sing like never before Oh my soul I’ll worship Your holy name Sing my soul, sing my soul Bless the Lord Oh my soul, oh my soul Worship His holy name Sing like never before Oh my soul I’ll worship Your holy name And on… (Matt Redman)
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We all have known people who have left deep imprints in our lives. For me it was my Grandpa - Leons Kalnins, born back in 1911.
As a little girl I used to cling to him as a burdock and follow him wherever he went. But what I enjoyed the most were our conversations. After work we both lay down to watch the sky and count the stars. Grandpa used to share the adventures of his life – how he – a 15-year old lad had served as a cabin-boy on a sail-ship, how during the war he had travelled on foot all the way from Vecpiebalga to Riga to bring a goat to feed his family. Grandpa’s vocabulary was full of words like "humility" and "meekness". I wondered about these words and labeled them as "ancient" because I had never heard them at the Soviet school. But what was most significant – Grandpa did what he said. Out of his mouth came only kind words; I had never heard him raise his voice. Grandpa always carried with him a paper bag full of colored candies. He put it in the inside pocket of his coat and pulled out when he wanted to offer them, for example, to a shop assistant at the local bakery or a ticket seller at the Mangali train station. Overtaken by his kindness and sincerity, even these otherwise surly and blunt ladies, melted. Grandpa never retreated from his "ancient" value system even during the Soviet times. He kept it also in the independent Latvia. The contents of the candy bag changed, but Grandpa’s kindness and sincerity remained unchanged. But he had kept the greatest surprise until the day of his demise. In his room we found a large bag of postcards addressed to many people. He had written them as the last greeting to those he loved. The cards were meant not just for the closest ones. It seemed that he had not forgotten anyone, and to each one he had dedicated some thoughtful words, full of encouragement. For many years, we lived together in the same house, until one day Grandpa moved out. Once he had been attacked by an angry neighbor, because he had kindly asked her to turn down the noise in the evening. She had scratched Grandpa’s face. Perhaps this incident was the last drop in the cup of his endurance. Perhaps it was hard for him to stay in the house where he had spent so many years with his wife, my Grandma, who had died recently. I do not know what transpired in Grandpa’s heart, but he just disappeared from our lives. We regularly got nice postcards, which he often supplemented with dried flowers. They were both beautiful and sweet, and very personal. Grandpa did not share his address, and we had to accept his choice. But God had a different plan. My church had sent me to serve in a nursing home - to visit church members living there. This ministry continued for about ten years. When an elderly lady passed away, I continued to pay visits to her roommate. One lady even lived up to be a hundred years old! One day, walking along the corridors of the Gailezers' nursing home, I bumped into my Grandpa! I could not believe my eyes! He was very happy to see me and said that he lived there because he wanted to be on his own. Since he was also a cashier, he had been given a separate room. Grandpa called the nursing home a hallway to paradise. His room, which could be labeled as very modest, was located in the hospital section of the nursing home and the corridor smelled of urine. But after closing the door of his room Grandpa left it all behind and entered the life he had chosen for himself. He was thrilled about his three meals a day, about the beautiful scenery and life on the whole. No grumbling, just joy and gratitude. Grandpa had not changed. Thanks to us bumping into each other Grandpa renewed his relationship with his children and ceased to hide. Well, now I enjoyed my trips to the nursing home even more, because I could see Grandpa too. I introduced him to the nice, then almost 100 year old lady, and they both were very pleased to meet each other. I remember the day when I gave them a ride to Saulkrasti. What an adventure after the tedious routine of the nursing home, full of people with faces traced by anger and bitterness! My Grandpa’s and his new friend’s faces always shone with love and sincerity. As I was expecting my first child, I had to spend a couple of weeks at Gailezers Hospital. Despite his more than eighty years, Grandpa visited me every day. He was able to relieve my anxiety, and I enjoyed his love and the opportunity to meet him more often. When, after two weeks, I was signed out of the hospital, Grandpa came to see me at home. It was his first visit - a beautiful and sunny late summer day, and we sat in the garden and talked. As I saw him off, he turned back, smiled at me and winked. I watched him walk down the street and disappear from my sight. The next day I received a call from the nursing home. They had found Grandpa in his room, on his knees at the side of his bed. He had left this world. I was so grateful for the opportunity to spend more time together just before Grandpa’s death. It was a precious gift from God! Though more than twenty years have passed since Grandpa went to be with Jesus, I have kept the postcards he wrote. One with an attached dried flower is especially dear to me. It was written to me and my spouse shortly after our wedding in 1991: "Please forgive me that the whole month of January I have been ‘in a relationship’ with Miss Influenza, so I am writing to you with great delay. Please, allow me to install a "stone" in the foundations of your successful married life. Let us open the most ancient, and wise book – the Bible - and see what it says. My Dearest! I wish from the depths of my heart that you would both stick to these Christian teachings, so that you would be united by the great, faithful, devout friendship, to which you both said yes at the altar. Please, do not sacrifice your health and the lightness of your hearts to material wealth! Please, always find time for spiritual endeavors as well, because our life is just a one-time event, and each day is unique, so it needs to be filled with the beautiful and the good. I wish that you would have the wisdom to let go of your great ME and move over to the sweet and friendly - US! Please, forgive me for these words, they are meant for your benefit and are based upon eighty years of experience. Love and best wishes to both of you, Yours Grandpa." On another postcard he wrote: "Sincere thanks for the postcard from the distant Norway and for your kindness, not forgetting me, an old man. What you have written proves that your life is full of joy, even happiness, and such days and moments are like golden pearls in the life of every human being, which remain with us even when they have passed. " What he wrote has become true - memories of him and our moments together remain with me as beautiful golden pearls. I can touch them again and again, and they do not lose their brilliance! |
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