The sun had set.
Yet, families jumped and played in
the pool as if it were day.
The hotel lights lit the night.
The laughter from children, sounded
like angels singing, the smiles from dads, moms, and grandparents alike, lit
the souls…but not all.
My wife sat beside the pool, smiling,
laughing, watching our daughter and grandkids play.
This weekend at Coco Keys Resort
in Orlando had been planned long before Christmas. We planned to show our
Florida grandkids that Christmas was about presence, not presents. That the
greatest Gift was a Babe in a manger wrapped in skin, not a present wrapped in
paper under a tree. That’s why this year there were no presents under our tree,
just a promise from our hearts that we had a better gift.
Originally the trip was scheduled
for the first weekend in January. However, between the time we celebrate the
birth of a Child and the birth of a New Year, my step-mom passed away.
We had made quick flight arrangements
from Florida to Oklahoma, where it was spitting ice and snow.
We’d planned to fly out on Thursday
and fly home on Sunday…but that all changed.
The day of my step-mom’s
Celebration of Life, I had just finished writing the eulogy, when I received
word that my mom, in Minnesota, had also passed away. I couldn’t catch my
breath, my hands started to tremble.
As the little Oklahoma church was
filling with family and friends, I couldn’t remember anything I was supposed to
say or do. My hands were still trembling. When asked, “Are you able to do this?” I said,
“No…” but then, I heard myself say, “but, Jesus can.”
After that, a peace that can’t be explained
or denied, washed over me, my hands steadied, I was able to pull in an even,
steady, full, breath.
We cancelled the Frontier Airlines
flight to Orlando and reserved a Sun Country flight to Minneapolis. Frontier, didn’t offer the courtesy of a reply
to our request for a refund on the return flight.
Our trip to Minnesota was a weeklong
whirlwind of sleepless nights and emotional days. With love and prayers, so
strong they could be felt, we made it through yet another thousand tears,
hugged necks, memories shared and finally landed back in our own Florida beds.
Five days later we made our way
back to Orlando for a different kind of, Celebration of Life. This time it was
a celebration of One who was born to die, so we could live; a belated Christmas
lesson. We were still exhausted, still a little weak in the knees, but looked
forward to this time, to relax, have fun, enjoy life,
and hopefully, create memories that would last an eternity.
Maybe death, is angry at our back
to back Celebrations of Life. Maybe, he wanted to inflict pain, and depression
and division, rather than unity and love and harmony and prayer. Perhaps he
hates that we quoted and spoke and believed the words:
“So when this
corruptible has put on incorruption, and this mortal has put on immortality,
then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written:
‘Death is swallowed up in victory.
O Death, where is
your sting?
O Hades, where is
your victory?’” (1 Corinthians 15: 54-55)
Lurking from shadow to shadow,
dark souls spied and despised the laughter, the light, the life. Hiding in the shadow
of death, they circled the fringe like wary wolves, these walking dead…afraid
of the light.
I was sitting with our eleven-month
old granddaughter, splashing on the top step of the pool, when I saw them approach
my wife. I carried our granddaughter, the few steps to where my wife was
sitting and heard them ask if the water slide was open.
“Not until tomorrow, from eleven
to five” I said as I walked toward them.
They stepped back, “ ‘leven to
five?”
“Yep” I said.
They walked away.
With the baby on my lap, I wrapped
her in towels, until she was dry—except for her diaper, which must’ve carried two
pounds of pool water.
I had just handed the baby to my
wife when one of them, appeared again.
“So, do you need a pass or
something?” he said.
I remembered the green wrist bands
we were given when we checked in. The ones needed for entrance to the water
park. Just when I opened my mouth to explain, he grabbed my wife’s purse which
was on the ground at her feet.
I was in hot pursuit as he bolted
through the gate and out of the pool area. I hit the gate, pulled the latch, pulled
the gate, it wouldn’t budge, I pushed the gate and it swung open. I shot
through the gate and hollered and continued hollering, at the top of my lungs, “STOP
HIM.”
Where was everyone? It was me and
him and the whole world vanished. He rounded the corner and slithered into a
waiting red car. They pulled out of the stall. I headed straight toward them.
From time to time folks have said
I resemble Chuck Norris. In that moment, I imaged I was him, kicking out their
windshield…but before I had a chance to do something that stupid, they turned and
sped down the parking lot toward the street. I continued the chase on bare feet,
still hollering, hoping someone would hear and stop the car and then I’d catch
them and then I’d…I can’t repeat the thoughts of what I’d do when I caught
them. Things that shouldn’t be said or done or even thought. Deathly things. But
I thought them, just the same. If death only knew what I was thinking then, he’d
have been laughing.
I chased all the way to the street
where they swerved around a car entering the parking lot and sped off down
International Drive.
Only then did I notice how my
tender feet stung from beating down concrete and pavement. Only then did I
realize I couldn’t catch my voice or my breath.
It wasn’t until that night when I
tried to sleep that I realized and replayed the awful thoughts that went
through my head. How I wanted to hurt that punk. How could they steal, uninvited
into our precious time and violate our lives?
I tossed and turned as death slithered
and spewed its deathly venom of hatred and revenge and distrust for mankind…it
wasn’t until it spilled an accusation so vile that I came to my senses. God doesn’t love you or care about you. He’s
mad at you. That’s why this happened. You’re on your own. Everyone is evil You
can’t trust anyone—especially God.
Only then, through that sleepless
night did I pray for them. Those thugs, those walking dead, those arrogant punks
that stole into our lives and violated our time, our lives…those lost souls,
wandering in darkness, seeking light, longing for a family to wrap a band around
their wrist, a hug around their neck and sit beside a pool and laugh and love
and enjoy the light, even in the night…those precious, hurting, lost and crying
boys.
I remember my wife had said, “If
only they’d have asked, I’d have given it to them.” If only they’d had sat down
and had a chat with us, we’d have given them much more than anything that purse
could hold.
I never realized how easy it is to
fall into the victim mindset. So easy to follow the path of least resistance and
float down the river of blame. It’s everyone’s fault but mine. The victim
mentality is a vicious downward spiral. It’s the hotels fault. They had no
cameras. The gate opens for anyone. There’s no security. The self-centered victim
mindset is fueled by thoughts of entitlement. The hotel owes me. On and on it
goes, until everyone is to blame, but self. Everyone is responsible for my irresponsibility.
This mindset makes the world dark, bleak. The media seems to feed this frenzy.
It’s hard to rise against the tide and stand
as victor not victim. Yet, when we do, we’ll see there’s so much more life out
there than death.
Life is winning.
Light always causes darkness to flee.
The people, the amazing, loving, kind
people far outshined that shaded moment. Kind folks for the rest of our stay would
stop and offer encouragement. One sweet lady named Gwen asked if we needed
money, she provided her phone and room number and said to let her know if we
needed anything.
Sure, the slaves of darkness showed
up.
Yes, God allowed it. He could’ve
stopped it. Perhaps He even warned us with a thought to not bring a purse to
the pool. Maybe we weren’t listening.
But the bottom line is that even though
God hates what they do, He loves them, too. Perhaps they needed to come in
contact with the Light and Life we have in Jesus.
Without their intersecting our
lives, without us postponing our trip, we’d probably never have encountered
these lost children. We’d never have uttered a prayer for them. Now we have.
Now, whether they like it, or know it, or not...we’re praying for them. Before
we ate, my twelve-year-old granddaughter prayed for them. We’re believing for
them that they won’t continue walking in death, but will be swallowed up in victory.
Even now as I write this my wife
is bouncing that precious grandchild and singing “Hallelujah…” not a trace of
the trembling and fear remains.
I prayed and still pray that they
all get caught. Get stopped. I still pray for my wife’s purse to be returned.
That not one thread will be missing. But, most important, the reason I pray for
this, is for them. So those boys will be changed. So they will stop slithering
around in the dark and step into the light and experience a real, Celebration
of Life.
Lord God, we pray and believe that
You’ll intersect the lives of those dear children and bring them to Life.
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