Miracle Workers

I was sitting on my deck a few weeks ago feeling the warmth of the sun typing on my laptop.  I heard the traffic on the street and people talking as they walked by but none of it registered in my consciousness because I was in a zone working.  But then something cut through my cocoon and pulled me into a state of awareness.  I was not sure if I was listening in real-time or if I was operating on a delay what I heard was a woman’s voice saying “my doctor told me I have six months to live.”  Curious to see who was talking I quietly sifted my position to get a glimpse of who was talking to whom.  It was my neighbor talking to the guy who delivered meals on wheels to the lady a few doors down.  

Immediately, my judgments took over.  I thought “if she’d stop all the drinking and drugging she wouldn’t be in that predicament.”  Hah! she's toxic; she just got out of jail, her & her boyfriend fight all the time, she eats junk food 24/7 and gets up off the coach only to grab a beer or walk to the store for another bag of Fritos.  She’s a walking talking drugged out zombie.  In my mind she might find death a relief from her seemingly miserable life.

  

While people normally have conversations like that with me I was so glad she hadn’t I did not have her in a good place in my mind.  Funny thing about the mind is that I could have all those thoughts in a split second and not miss a beat.  I don’t know what was said before the "six months to live" statement but I did hear the guy as he started fussing at her saying that God has the final word not some doctor.  

As he talked I heard him say things that I’d said so many times before, in essence it is done onto you as you believe.  “If you accept that you surely will be dead in six months or less,” he said.  “How are you going to go down without a fight?  Isn’t your life worth more to you than that?  Somebody tells you that you’re going to die and you say okay and wait on it?” Oh he was giving it to her good.  “Don’t you ever let those words come out of your mouth again!”  He spoke to her with such authority and disdain for what she just shared I knew she must have felt ashamed, because I did.  

I felt ashamed because I know what it means to have spiritual authority; to speak to the mountain and tell it to move and it be done.  I was looking at what actually was rather than what was possible.   I had not looked beyond her faults, but rather, reinforced them because of what she had shown me.  Familiarity does breed contempt since she was my neighbor I didn’t have the luxury of not knowing her experientially.  Now along comes the Good Samaritan and after fussing for five minutes he asked “are you saved?”  I didn’t hear her answer because it was not a question that was important to me.  I do know that that’s when he started to pray with her and as he did so did I.  

As man drove off to continue his route I sat there questioning myself.  Who is this stranger that is in my head today thinking as if it were me?  I, Sandra Bishop, know better.  I know that I cannot escape the prison that I locked my neighbor into.  If I hold in my mind that she is doomed then I will be too.  I can’t be free if I imprison my sister; as I see her, I will see myself.  Not that I do what she does but if she can’t change, if her life can’t be transformed then neither can mine.  God is no respecter of persons if I can be transformed so can she and so can you.  It can and did happen in a holy instant.

This exchange was an answer to a prayer I’d asked, “God where have I strayed off course?”  I love the way God speaks.  He didn’t have to say “my child you’re not looking at your neighbor through loving eyes.”  He let me overhear a conversation so that I could open my own eyes.

 

I can’t be a miracle worker with judgmental calcified vision.  I have to see not only what is possible; I have to see the masterpiece that God ordained them to be, that requires that I be open and loving.  I almost typed forgiving but it’s not that, it is beyond forgiveness.  Forgiveness assumes that something is out of order or wrong.  I know that sometimes part of our growth process requires that we go into the darkness to better see the light.  It’s not that a person is wrong or off course they are “in the process” and if they keep moving forward it all works out as it should.  Sometimes we get all get stuck and linger longer than we should in the darkness thinking that that is our truth.  A prayer is often sufficient summons guidance.  God's will will be done.

Here’s what I know.  If I am in judgment of another person I’m not in the light, I’m in the darkness too.  I know that a shift in perception is all it takes; I know how to get back to heaven without a GPS.  I also know that heaven is incomplete without my neighbor so if I want it restored to me it is imperative that I show them the way.  I can’t do that from a place of judgment (standing in the dark pointing at the light) but only from a place of love.   

I trust that God has a purpose and plan for each of us and that successful execution of that plan is inevitable.  Once a person hears the summons, sees the light or feels the pull there will be miracle workers like you and I along their path encouraging them to keep moving forward.  Whispering “rest if you must but don’t you quit we’re waiting on you.”     

Trust the Process

It seems that something has been missing from my life, a lot of things.  I have prided myself on living with purpose and meaning but lately it seems as though I have lost my way so I pray.   For years I had been involved in and taught about living a spiritual life, one day that all suddenly ended and I’ve felt myself wondering in the wilderness at times trying to figure out how to have the promise land revealed to me again, so again I pray.

I remember when I first discovered what we called new thought, I went first to a Johnnie Coleman church where they seemed to talk about and relate to God in ways that were totally unfamiliar to me.  I had read the bible cover to cover while overseas and found that the Baptist teachings I’d grown up in no longer suited my understanding.  I was on my own till I met a woman who said “oh that sounds like what they teach at LTC,” I looked it up and went thinking they couldn’t possibly be where I was but they were pretty close.  I called that place home for a long time until that minister left and I went to a Science of Mind church. 

Without going into the subtle nuisances of all the teachings I’ve studied it was in new thought and Science of Mind in particular taught me about spiritual mind treatment which is commonly called prayer.  They’d dissect prayer paying close attention to the relationship of oneness we have with God.  Changing what has been instilled into me from almost birth is an ongoing process. 

The idea that I could be plugged in one day and on the outside looking in the next seems odd, I know.  I’ve searched my soul trying to recall if this spiritual sojourn could have been the answer to a prayer; you know the show me kind.  Maybe I needed to see or be sure that where I was is where I truly wanted to be. So I prayed.   

The final step in the prayer process is to release your words with the spirit of expectancy and anticipation.  When I first learned the prayer process things seemed to happen so quickly I’d actually move out of the way for fear of being hit by the fast delivery.  I chuckle about it now.  When I prayed for a car I parked mine around the corner and walked home; I didn’t want any blockage to my blessing.  I got it and it only took 3 weeks and was paid in full as requested.  Often my prayers are not for things but rather to have something revealed, developed or understood.  How this comes into existence is often an arduous process like the birth of a child.  This spiritual wondering or sojourn maybe part of the process unfolding whatever the case may be I trust the process. 

On Air

My phone rang at 6:04 pm the other day.  I’d been at my father’s house for over an hour talking about my recent trip to Seattle.  He’d been asking a lot of questions and surprisingly I knew the answers.  I didn’t answer some knowing the reason he was asking them.  The phone number was not one I recognized but I knew it was a local cell phone number from the exchange.  “Hello?” I said in my most professional voice.  He identified himself right away which I like; I hate when people assume you know who it is or think that it’s fun to make you guess.  I don’t save numbers in my phone automatically I don’t like scrolling through them. 

The caller was Darnell Brewer and on the rare occasion that he calls it’s for a reason.  “I need a favor” he got right to the point.  He was asked to host a radio show for a mutual friend at the last minute and needed a guest and wanted to know if I was available.  “What time” I asked, there was one of those nervous chuckles and then “7 o’clock” as he cleared his throat.  After doing talk radio and cable TV for the past 15 years I know what it’s like to scramble to find a guest for whatever reason.  If the show is popular its easy guest are soliciting you all the time asking if they can come on your show.  When the show is not popular you’re looking under every rock you can to find someone even half-way interesting to come downtown at odd hours, in the cold to do a show.  This was a live talk show with callers.  

For some reason I asked “so how far down on your list was I?” as if it mattered.  Maybe it was my ego but I honestly wanted to know before I agreed.  “Number 3” he said.  I had already stood up put my cup in the sink and was starting to pull on my coat as I gave him my meager demands.  It was cold out and I didn’t want to drive, if he started right then he could get me and be down at the station in time for the show.  Luckily I had my laptop in tow.  I don’t know how I ever did radio before computers & internet access.  I pull up everything because it seems disrespectful to those that are listening to me to be caught unaware or uninformed of anything.  Thanks to the internet you can know a little bit about everything as quickly as you can type it in.  We arranged a pick up location and I was off.

The Seattle Backdrop

I had only been back in town 2 days at that point.  I’d spent a week in Seattle with my family following a funeral that I attended.  I’d stayed with my Aunt and Uncle whose house was not only beautiful it was immaculate, something that I’m not quite use to.  My place is comfortable, you know lived in; it’s just me.  Like now I’m sitting here at my kitchen table typing there is no special room or office that I have to sit in, sure I have an office but I’d rather sit in my kitchen with a cup of coffee next to me.  I have small bookcase on my kitchen table for books I like to keep close.  I have journals and papers sprawled out on the table too.  I have a basket at my feet with more books and papers and a stool for my reference stuff like a dictionary, thesauruses and bibles.  My bedroom is pretty much the same, scattered with books, notebooks, pens and highlighters.  Don’t get me wrong there is nothing wrong with having a well organized home but coming from mine it’s an adjustment.  They didn’t pick up my stuff but they did neaten up my workspace each time I left it for a moment. 

It seemed indulgent being able to sit in their home surrounded on every side by breathtaking beauty.  The view of the lake the mountain, their home was awe inspiring like the perfect place to write or create something wonderful.  Leaving there to come back to my own home was hard, like a little kid I wanted to drag my feet or fall on my face and refuse to leave.  It was 50 degrees and I was coming back to snow and freezing temperatures.  I was ready to chuck home, thinking my fish had enough food in their automatic feeder and a decent battery.  They like that feeder better anyway; feeding time is fixed and happens twice a day.  They seem to pout a little when I resume feeding them.

Just like Home

My returning to the airways with that microphone in front of me felt like my return home should have felt, right.  When they cued us I lit up.  Doing radio is not like TV both require personality but you bring a different side of it to radio without as much prep time.  I went from drinking tea with Dad to being on air in one hour.  On TV you have worry about hair, makeup, wardrobe and not just any old clothes.  What accentuates you while not clashing with your set?  Does it make me look too fat and where to put that microphone?  It’s recorded then edited then shown.  Radio is live. .it’s magic and callers give instant feedback and interaction.  Don’t get me wrong I love TV but the difference between radio and TV is the difference between my Aunt’s house and mine.  I miss it.