An Unexpected Visitor
But I'm So Glad She Came!
Wouldn’t you know it, the doorbell rang yesterday, on a day when my husband and I had worked outside in the heat and we were both a mess. He went to the door and I heard him call out, “Anne.” I joined him at the sunporch door. A woman was already sharing her reason for stopping and it took me a little while to catch up. She was the wife of a man who had done some work on our house; a man now dead due to suicide.
At least twice during the time “John” worked for us, we talked to him about Jesus and his need to repent. We were told he was “good with the man upstairs.” We invited him and his wife to church. They did not come. His wife told us yesterday that she encouraged him to attend, but he refused.
We were patient with John. Twice during the time he worked for us, he said he had health problems and had to take some time off. Was he being honest? I wonder now, after talking to his wife yesterday. Regardless, he took pride in his work and we were very pleased with it. We felt we demonstrated the love of Christ by being patient with him. His wife told us at one point during that time that he thought very favorably of us.
So, why did she ring our doorbell yesterday, about two years after John’s death? Simply to thank us for trying to help him. We probably talked for twenty minutes or so and I gave her a hug. I told her I was heartbroken when John died and that we wish he had reached out to us, or someone, for help. We did what we could, but it was not enough. Maybe no one could have done enough to change his mind. I would like to know that John is okay, but have to put that out of my mind and determine to take advantage of every opportunity to help people prepare for eternity.
I’m sorry, John. Thank you for the excellent work you did for us.
Anne John was lucky to have such a caring wife and customer in the two of you. I had a brother John, I wrote this a while back.
Brother John.
It’s sometimes hard to accept how quickly time passes. I was grabbing a shirt for work the other morning and noticed underneath was a shirt that was my older brother John’s. My sister had given me a few of his things years ago. It’s already been over 18 years since my brother passed away.
My brother John was a true patriot. Out of high school he signed up to become an Airborne Army Ranger. He dedicated himself to learning ninjitsu and had earned a black belt. He worked for 20 years as a prison guard, was a canine officer there and a sharpshooter at the prison.
Growing up, if any of us other three siblings ever had a problem with anyone, you could be sure to count on brother John to straighten it out, he protected those close to him. He was undyingly courageous when it came to sticking up for his family or what was right. John would give the shirt off his back to help a stranger as well.
During a shift at work his dog had pulled him off a 12’ wall. He ended up with 2 crushed discs in his back. Of coarse his doctors prescribed pain medicine, government approved oxycodone. That began years of suffering through addiction and all the pain and heartache that goes along with it. As strong as he was he couldn’t break free from the addiction and his life slowly fell apart. Inevitably they killed this strong patriotic soldier, my brother John, he was 48.
Selfishly, one of the things I miss the most about my oldest brother, he was always there, dependable, loyal, and strong. At the drop of a hat if you needed John, it didn’t matter where you were, he would always show up and offer a hand.
I picked up his shirt and put it on thinking if I could only have 1/2 of his courage, strength, loyalty or patriotism I would be twice the person I am today. I think of him all the time and when I see things like his shirt it’s a reminder of how precious the person was that once wore it.
There are so many great examples of courageous patriotic people we should draw strength from and understand how precious they are. We should learn from and enjoy these people in our lives while they’re around. As big and as strong as they are you don’t want to end up with a shirt, a hat or a picture of them and just then realize how truly precious they were. J.Goodrich
Romans 1:28 describes my brother’s life. As I can understand his hatred of everything Christian, I was no longer given an opening in his life. All I can do is pray until the day he dies that the Holy Spirit will open his heart for salvation. The people who destroyed his soul will be held accountable from God himself. We are not held responsible for people choosing not to be saved. All we can do is keep sharing. God bless.