With two children in elementary school and one toddler in diapers, mornings were busy. One morning in 1987 all was well as I headed out, carrying my baby, diaper bag and purse. Just as I stepped through the front door, the baby vomited on us both.

Throwing down diaper bag and purse, I bathed us and changed our clothing. I snagged the diaper bag, ran out, buckled all three children and drove away. And we arrived as the first warning bell sounded!

Then my car died. A janitor heard me trying to restart it and came to assist. We couldn't start it, so this gentleman helped PUSH my car a mile to a garage.

The owner never lifted his head, gruffly saying he couldn't look at my car for days. I asked to use his phone to arrange a tow.

I found a mechanic, then notified my work. When the towing company asked for a credit card, I went after my purse... to find I'd left it when I grabbed the diaper bag.

OK. I could bus home on my pocket change, and still get the car fixed before the kids finished school. I called for the bus schedule, and saw the bus!

I hung up and chased the bus a half block before it pulled over. Halfway home I realized the apartment keys were in the dead car's ignition. I still wasn't worried. A handyman had been working on my place for three days so I wouldn't be locked out.

He wasn't there. I asked neighbours; no one had seen him. I sat on the porch with the baby to wait.

It was cold with snow on the ground. I was sitting in snow holding a wiggly, wet toddler. Two hours later... I just cried. The neighbours invited me inside but I just wanted to be alone at that moment of despair.

As I sat, a stranger walked past to visit a neighbour. Minutes later, he returned and introduced himself as Dave, the neighbours having filled him in. suggested I get in his truck to see what we could do. While I was reluctant, my older kids would be out of school and worried I hadn't picked them up.

After hearing the car's symptoms, Dave stopped and bought spark plugs and a condenser kit "just in case". We picked up my older kids. At the car, he ascertained the problem was the coil.

Dave then stuffed myself and my three children into his truck cab, and towed the car to his father's junkyard. He grabbed a good coil and fixed my car. I offered to pay him. He utterly refused.

He wouldn't let me pay for the tune up parts, his gas, time or skills. Dave simply made sure I had directions to get home safely, and sent me on my way.

Dave didn't know me. He had no reason to care. But he gave his time, skills and caring to a stranger on that cold wintry day.

   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 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 honour. '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?'' '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.' '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.  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.'

by Unknown Author

 

I just accidentally put a laundry basket down on the lego ship that my 7 year old spent all day building. I brought it to him and said,

 

"Buddy, I broke your ship; I didn't see it and I sat something on it. I'm so sorry."

 

His eyes widened in shock and he said, "Oh man, that took me a really long time to build. I just finished it!" After a moment, I softy asked, "are you mad?" -his response brought me to tears.

 

He took a deep breath and said, "I want to be mad, but yesterday when I broke your favourite plate, you didn't get mad at me. You said it was just a plate and you didn't make me feel bad. I know you liked that plate as much as I liked this ship.

 

It's okay, mom. I can rebuild it."

 

*heart melting

 

You know, I just realized that I can tell my kids all day long what kind of people I hope they will be. I can ask them to be loving and kind, but in the end, they will be what I've shown them to be not what I told them to be.

ps. Children will copy every thing they see their parents do. The good and the bad. Unfortunately they are much better at remembering the bad habits rather than the good. (gdn)

Three things in life that, once gone, never come back:
1. Time
2. Words
3. Opportunity

Three things in life that can destroy a person:
1. Anger
2. Pride
3. Unforgiveness

Three things in life that you should never lose:
1. Hope
2. Peace
3. Honesty

Three things in life that are most valuable:
1. Love
2. Family & Friends
3. Kindness

Three things in life that are never certain:
1. Fortune
2. Success
3. Dreams

Three things that make a person:
1. Commitment
2. Sincerity
3. Hard work

PS: "I would rather watch a flower bloom, than try to make the stem grow straight. ©gdn"  

ps. If a man does not know what harbor he is seeking, no light will be enough to guide him. - Anon.