Blog Archives

Dangerous Duty

3/30/2014

© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.

One Sunday morning, the pastor noticed little Patrick standing in the foyer of the church staring up at a large plaque. It was covered with names with small American flags mounted on either side of it. The seven year old had been staring at the plaque for some time, so the pastor walked up, stood beside the little boy, and said quietly, “Good morning Patrick.”

“Good morning Pastor,” he replied, still focused on the plaque. “Pastor, what is this?” he asked.

The pastor said, “Well, son, it’s a memorial to all the young men and women who died in the service.”
Soberly, they just stood together, staring at the large plaque. Finally, little Patrick’s voice, barely audible and trembling with fear, asked, “Which service, the 8:30 or the 10:45?”

This joke wasn’t so funny during my years of being a pastor. But with new perspective, I thought I would share it with you.

Reprinted from Grace Drops, Volume 5 (2007).

A Split Second

3/28/2014

© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.

The day was bright and sunny as the driver made his way south on the eighteen mile trek to the other facility he served. It was nearly past lunchtime and he was anxious to get to the “Cafe” and a chicken quesadilla. He approached the intersection as he had done at least three or four times a week for the past eighteen months.

Heading north in the left turn lane, at least three cars sat with their turn signals on. There was a little clearance as the first car entered the path of his car and headed west. The second car, a black SUV, followed the first one and a small alarm went off in his head as he thought, “That guy is cutting it a bit close.”

What happened next was almost a blur. In sudden disbelief, he saw the third car, a red Camaro, begin to pull into his lane to make the turn. In an instant he knew that there was no way he could either stop in time or swerve to miss the impact. Futilely he yelled to the sight ahead of him. He slammed the brake pedal and braced for the air bag to slam him. As he made impact he felt himself pitch forward and then back. All was still. There was no air bag. He was conscious, but the wind knocked out of him. He noticed people coming toward him, one talking on a cell phone.

Someone asked, “Are you O.K.?”

He sat in the seat and said, “No.”

By the following morning he was on the way home from the hospital. He had been checked thoroughly with X-rays, blood workups, CT scan, EKG, and a night of observation. The only damage was a chest that hurt when he breathed, especially deeply, or moved very much. His emotions at times were overwhelming at the thoughts of what could have happened.

By the way. I was that driver. Good to be back.

© 2007, John C. Fitts, III. All Rights Reserved. Reprinted from Grace Drops, Volume 5 (2007).

Taps

3/27/2014

© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.

The following is reportedly the story of the origin of “Taps,” played at military funerals.

Reportedly, it all began in 1862 during the Civil War, when Union Army Captain Robert Ellicombe was with his men near Harrison's Landing in Virginia. The Confederate Army was on the other side of the narrow strip of land. During the night, Captain Ellicombe heard the moans of a soldier who lay severely wounded on the field. Not knowing if it was a Union or Confederate soldier, the Captain decided to risk his life and bring the stricken man back for medical attention. Crawling on his stomach through the gunfire, the Captain reached the stricken soldier and began pulling him toward his encampment.

When the Captain finally reached his own lines, he discovered it was actually a Confederate soldier, but the soldier was dead. The Captain lit a lantern and suddenly caught his breath and went numb with shock. In the dim light, he saw the face of the soldier. It was his own son. The boy had been studying music in the South when the war broke out. Without telling his father, the boy enlisted in the Confederate Army. The following morning, heartbroken, the father asked permission of his superiors to give his son a full military burial, despite his enemy status. His request was only partially granted.

The Captain had asked if he could have a group of Army band members play a funeral dirge for his son at the funeral. The request was turned down since the soldier was a Confederate. But, out of respect for the father, they did say they could give him only one musician.

The Captain chose a bugler. He asked the bugler to play a series of musical notes he had found on a piece of paper in the pocket of the dead youth's uniform. This wish was granted. The haunting melody, we now know as "Taps" – used at military funerals – was born. The words are:

Day is done.. Gone the sun.
From the lakes. From the hills. From the sky.
All is well. Safely rest. God is nigh.

Fading light. Dims the sight.
And a star. Gems the sky. Gleaming bright.
From afar. Drawing nigh. Falls the night.

Thanks and praise. For our days.
Neath the sun. Neath the stars. Neath the sky
As we go. This we know. God is nigh.

Reprinted from Grace Drops, Volume 5 (2007).

A Philosophy of Leadership

3/21/2014

© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.

The media bombards us with examples of leadership constantly. Politicians are competing for face time on cameras, intent on informing us of their leadership abilities. In the arena of sports, teams are seeking that individual who will step forward with qualities that will propel them to the next level and a championship. In the business world we have seen, in the past few years, executives, men and women who achieved much success, led away in handcuffs to a new, shameful phase of their lives.

A Chinese philosopher, Lao-tzu made some cogent observations about leadership that I would like to pass on. They may not sound like popular notions in our culture. He said, “A leader is best when people barely know that he exists.” Perhaps this is true in our day. Maybe those who are “up front” aren’t that influential after all.

He also said, “A leader is best when people barely know that he exists, not so good when people obey and acclaim him, worse when they despise him. Fail to honor people, and they will fail to honor you. But, of a good leader, who talks little, “When his work is done, his aim fulfilled, they will all say, ‘we did this ourselves.’”

© 2007, John C. Fitts, III. All Rights Reserved. Reprinted from Grace Drops, Volume 5 (2007).

A World of Excuses

3/20/2014

© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.

When I first started working at a job, I made a point of going slow, saying hello to my new co-workers, and getting to know them. Each morning I made rounds of the various locations around the hospital. The staffing secretary and I began talking about her job. She said the excuses she was given for not working were unbelievable.

I read an article recently about employees calling in sick with “fishy” excuses for missing work. One said, “I was poisoned by my mother in law.” Another said, “A buffalo escaped from the game reserve and kept charging the employee every time she tried to go to her car from her house.” A skunk got blamed for one, because he reportedly got into the employee’s house and sprayed all his uniforms.

But I still like the one I heard from the staffing team member my first few days at work. She said a worker called in on Thursday morning and said, “I’ve got a case of the West Nile Virus.” But don’t worry, I’ll be fine by Monday!

© 2007, John C. Fitts, III. All Rights Reserved. Reprinted from Grace Drops, Volume 5 (2007).

A Lizard's Tale

3/15/2014

© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.

This story from Japan, true or not, contains an important lesson:

In order to renovate a house, someone in Japan tore open a wall. Japanese houses normally have a hollow space between the wooden walls. When tearing down the walls, he found that there was a lizard stuck there because a nail from outside was hammered into one of its feet. He saw this, felt pity, and at the same time he was curious. When he checked the nail, turns out, it was nailed 10 years ago when the house was first built.

What happened?

The lizard had survived in such a position for 10 years! In a dark wall partition for 10 years without moving, it is impossible and mind boggling. Then he wondered how this lizard survived for 10 years without moving a single step—since its foot was nailed!

So he stopped his work and observed the lizard, what it had been doing, and what and how it has been eating. Later, not knowing from where it came, another lizard appeared, with food in its mouth. Ahh! He was stunned and at the same time, touched deeply. Another lizard had been feeding the stuck one for the past 10 years...Such love, such a beautiful love! Such love happened with this tiny creature...

What can love do?

It can do wonders!

Love can do miracles!

Just think about it; one lizard had been feeding the other one untiringly for 10 long years, without giving up hope on its partner. If a small creature like a lizard can love like this... just imagine how we can love if we try.

Reprinted from Grace Drops, Volume 5 (2007).

Grandpa's Hands

3/12/2014

© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.

I'll never look at my hands the same! Grandpa, some ninety plus years, sat feebly on the patio bench. He didn't move, just sat with his head down staring at his hands. When I sat down beside him he didn't acknowledge my presence and the longer I sat I wondered if he was OK. Finally, not really wanting to disturb him yet wanting to check on him, I asked him if he was OK.

He raised his head and looked at me and smiled. “Yes, I'm fine, thank you for asking,” he said in a clear strong voice.

“I didn't mean to disturb you, Grandpa, but you were just sitting here staring at your hands and I wanted to make sure you were OK,” I explained to him.

“Have you ever looked at your hands?” he asked. “I mean really looked at your hands?”

I slowly opened my hands and stared down at them. I turned them over, palms up and then palms down. No, I guess I had never really looked at my hands as I tried to figure out the point he was making.

Grandpa smiled and related this story: “Stop and think for a moment about the hands you have, how they have served you well throughout your years. These hands, though wrinkled, shriveled and weak have been the tools I have used all my life to reach out and grab and embrace life. They braced and caught my fall when as a toddler I crashed upon the floor. They put food in my mouth and clothes on my back. As a child my mother taught me to fold them in prayer.

They tied my shoes and pulled on my boots. They held my rifle and wiped my tears when I went off to war. They have been dirty, scraped and raw, swollen and bent. They were uneasy and clumsy when I tried to hold my newborn son. Decorated with my wedding band they showed the world that I was married and loved someone special. They wrote the letters home and trembled and shook when I buried my parents and spouse and walked my daughter down the aisle.

Yet, they were strong and sure when I dug my buddy out of a foxhole and lifted a plow off of my best friend's foot. They have held children, consoled neighbors, and shook in fists of anger when I didn't understand. They have covered my face, combed my hair, and washed and cleansed the rest of my body. They have been sticky and wet, bent and broken, dried and raw. And to this day when not much of anything else of me works real well these hands hold me up, lay me down, and again continue to fold in prayer.

These hands are the mark of where I've been and the ruggedness of life. But more importantly it will be these hands that God will reach out and take when he leads me home.”

I will never look at my hands the same again. I remember God reached out and took my Grandpa's hands and led him home. When my hands are hurt or sore or when I stroke the face of my children and wife I think of Grandpa.

Reprinted from Grace Drops, Volume 5 (2007).

A Long Meeting

3/11/2014

© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.

Gladys Dunn had recently moved into a retirement community in a small town.

One beautiful Sunday morning she walked to church not far from her apartment. She was in awe of the beautiful church, as well as music from the choir. She wasn't too impressed with the sermon. She thought it was kind of boring, and as she looked around the church, she noticed that many of the parishioners were nodding off.

When the reverend finished, he encouraged his congregation to greet those sitting close to them. Gladys turned toward the man sitting on her left. He, too, had fallen asleep and was yawning and stretching trying to wake up. He smiled at her, and Gladys returned the smile.

She politely offered her hand and said, "I'm Gladys Dunn."

"You and me both!" the man replied.

Ever been in a meeting like that?

Reprinted from Grace Drops, Volume 5 (2007).

Give It Wings

3/6/2014

© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.

There was once a lonely girl who longed desperately for love. One day while she was walking in the woods she found two starving song birds. She took them home and put them in a small gilded cage. She nurtured them with love and the birds grew strong. Every morning they greeted her with a marvelous song. The girl felt great love for the birds. She wanted their singing to last forever.

One day the girl left the door to the cage open. The larger and stronger of the two birds flew from the cage. The girl watched anxiously as he circled high above her. She was so frightened that he would fly away and she would never see him again that as he flew close, she grasped at him wildly. She caught him in her fist. She clutched him tightly within her hand. Her heart gladdened at her success in capturing him.

Suddenly she felt the bird go limp. She opened her hand stared in horror at the dead bird. Her desperate clutching love had killed him. She noticed the other bird teetering on the edge of the cage. She could feel his great need for freedom, his need to soar into the clear, blue sky.

She lifted him from the cage and tossed him softly into the air. The bird circled once, twice, three times. The girl watched delighted at the bird's enjoyment. Her heart was no longer concerned with her loss.

She wanted the bird to be happy. Suddenly the bird flew closer and landed softly on her shoulder. It sang the sweetest melody, she had ever heard. The fastest way to lose love is to hold on too tight, the best way to keep love is to give it -- WINGS!

Reprinted from Grace Drops, Volume 5 (2007).

Fatherly Chat

3/3/2014

© Patty Fitts. All Rights Reserved.

A young woman brings home her fiance to meet her parents. After dinner, her mother tells her father to find out about the young man. The father invites the fiancee to his study for a chat.

"So what are your plans?" the father asks the young man.
"I am a Bible college student." he replies.

"A Bible college student. Hmmm," the father says. "Admirable, but what will you do to provide a nice house for my daughter to live in, as she's accustomed to?"
"I will study," the young man replies, "and God will provide for us."

"And how will you buy her a beautiful engagement ring, such as she deserves?" asks the father.
"I will concentrate on my studies," the young man replies, "God will provide for us."

"And children?" asks the father. "How will you support children?"
"Don't worry, sir, God will provide," replies the fiance. The conversation proceeds like this, and each time the father questions, the young idealist insists that God will provide.

Later, the mother asks, "How did it go, Honey?"
The father answers, "He has no job and no plans, but the good news is he thinks I'm God."

Reprinted from Grace Drops, Volume 5 (2007).