men

be sexy with your boyfriend

Wanna feel sexy? Read on! This article contains the guide of how you can be sexy around your boyfriend!

Steps

Act confident. You may not feel confident but fake it. If you are unsure of what you’re doing it’s ok, just keep it going!
Wear underwear that make you feel sexy, whether its thong, lacy underwear, push up bras, pink, red, black, bows, pearls, leather, whatever! But no sooner than 6 months.
When you have special time alone do special things. Bring out the tiger in you.
Do things subtle but noticeable things like when your going to pick something up or many things get on your hands and knees and crawl. Bend over, flip hair, show off more cleavage than usual.
Make your boyfriend feel sexy! Compliment him, and what not.
Take pictures of each other, but only if you feel comfortable with the idea.
Walk like a Victoria’s secret model. Wear your hair down and just be wild, but not too wild, otherwise, you’ll act skanky. Big NO!
Make him something sweet then feed it to him.
If you can sing, sing him something nice, but only if you can sing. If you can’t, take lessons.
Wear pearls or a diamond necklace with a tank top.

Tips
Learn strip tease
Belly dance. Always works! Just don’t be stiff.

Warnings
Don’t get drunk and do something crazy. That won’t be sexy, it’ll be skanky. There’s a fine line between sexy and skanky!
Use your head, especially if you don’t feel comfortable with something! Otherwise, he’ll just take advantage of you.

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make a man fall in love with you

Did you ever wonder how all of those average women end up with those gorgeous guys? If you want to find out, read on.

Steps
Be yourself and relax. No one likes a stuck-up snob.
Laugh all the time. You can actually trick yourself into thinking something is funny. Never get mad, slap, or yell at the guy you want to like you. It’s a complete turn-off.
Smile at every chance you get. It shows the guy you’re optimistic and can have a great time.
Always let him try to make you happy. Guys love to make the girl they are falling for happy.
Never become a doormat. If he takes advantage of you, it’s not worth the pain in the end.
Stand up for what you believe in. Never give in during a debate about the greatest band, or anything of the sort. It lets him know that you don’t need him, which makes you more desirable. That said, don’t argue too adamantly about everything.
Catch the fun-bug. Always put on a happy face and laugh at his jokes.
If he doesn’t take to you, there’s nothing wrong with you. We all have to learn how to move on, even masters in the game of love.

Tips
Never get angry at him for stupid stuff, like hitting you with a ball. If he cuts off one of your limbs, then it’s okay to yell.

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get man to marry you

Finding a guy is one thing, but keeping him around is another. Both are important steps. But what are some of the secrets of women who find men willing to commit? This is not an all-encompassing guide, but it may be a start in helping you develop deeper relationships.

Steps
Have a deep-rooted self-esteem. How can a man not feel privileged when he earns the esteem of a woman who values herself so highly?
Be emotionally grounded. Life with you should not be a roller coaster ride. Men generally like women who are stable, and vice versa. Sometimes this is a difficult task in our hectic lives, but it is not impossible. If you find yourself referred to as a “drama queen” in more than one instance, seek help and guidance in relaxing your nerves and calming your emotions.
Show endearment with class. A certain look. A scratch on the back. A soft kiss. Nothing “clingy” or inappropriate.
Appreciate a man’s strengths. And tell him so, even if he’s already prideful. Then support him when he is at his best, and avoid nagging or berating him when he is at his worst.
Be fun. This sounds basic, but it’s a critical factor in any relationship. Have a sense of humor. Don’t be uptight or negative.
Show confidence. Be sure of yourself, and ready to tackle whatever is before you. Many men love confident women.
Overflow with joy. Women who are glad to be alive and are enjoying every minute of it may be irrepressibly attractive to men.
Glow. If the warmth of your heart is written all over your face, and your feelings for your guy show in the sparkle in your eyes, you will melt him. This is what removes all doubt – it’s the important “silver bullet”.
Practice humility. A humble person is not someone who downplays herself; it is a person who controls her ego and shows a genuine interest in others.
Date. It may not be obvious, but you actually have to go out on dates with a man and commit to a relationship before he will propose. The term “date” in modern culture is vague and sometimes redefined as something more than it is. Simply converse with a man and get to know more about each others’ lives.
Don’t assume. Some men wait slightly longer than you might want before they ask. If he is really worth marrying, you should be willing to wait (within reason). But if he is uninterested (or worse, making excuses) even after a long period of time, you need to reevaluate the direction of your relationship. Sometimes allowing a man to lead the direction of a relationship is in-line with your desires. Try it, you’ll like it.
Remember that romance runs both ways. If you want to be respected and treated as an equal, do the same for him. Be romantic. Make him want to be in this relationship. Don’t be a cheapskate. Men often enjoy romance too; pretending otherwise will only drive him away.
Show courage. Be first in asking a man for marriage, or even just a date. Try it, you’ll like it. Remember, simply asking “so when are we gonna get married?” is not a very romantic way to propose.
Convey unconditional love. A strong relationship should be based upon more than convenience. Pushing past difficult times while remaining together requires a deep commitment and appreciation for one another. Unconditional love is developed over time. It is a choice we make, not necessarily a feeling we experience.

Tips
A comfort with, and affinity towards men is non-negotiable. No man will commit to spending the rest of his life with a “man hater”… nor should he.
If you disrespect a man by openly flirting with other men his presence, don’t expect a ring.
If he is not showing a desire to marry after several months, he may never want to marry you. You don’t want a man to “settle” for you; your partner should see you as his first choice or something is wrong.
Know what you are looking for in a man. Learn what personally attracts you to others to help find a better match. Be honest about communicating these preferences, but do so in subtle, caring manner.
Most men want a feminine woman. Interestingly, women who fit this description are more likely to attract masculine men.
Ironically, women who give men an incentive to marry them may end up moving him in the opposite direction.
It’s certainly important to take care of yourself physically. It is well-documented that men appreciate women who are beautiful, cute, and/or sexy. If you disregard this fact, don’t expect your man to view you as the “most beautiful woman in the world”.
Visualize being the woman who a man remembers fondly. Capitalize on your positive unique qualities, talents, or interests.

Warnings
Women who men eventually leave might exhibit the following traits:

Complaining. It’s not good to be negative. After a while this is like listening to a bad disco record over and over. Believe it.
Thinking men are all about sex. So they either berate him with it, or worse, think that giving it out early and often will keep a man. Hint: Sex when it happens, in and of itself, ultimately has NOTHING to do with this topic either way.
Focused on physical appearance. Being cute is not enough to land a well-rounded guy forever. If you get a guy to commit to you based on looks ALONE, stay tuned for a miserable life together.
Taking no risks. They worry about everything and don’t have the guts to go for what they want.
Having general problems. OK, that “Idiot/Jerk” in your past has nothing to do with your new guy. You must enjoy being a woman and be attracted to what makes men male.
Jealousy. Unfortunately, jealous people may also cheat on their partners. Studies say that when people criticize others, listeners tend to consign the traits criticized to the speaker him/herself. Are you a walking, self-fulfilling prophecy?
Don’t be controlling. Some people crave respect. If you are a controlling woman, you are not showing him the respect he may need to feel good about himself.
Hang ups about masculinity being a bad think and femininity being “weak”. If you view women as an “oppressed race” and “hate men”, don’t expect a man who actually respects and LIKES women to want to be with you.

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get right man

What do you want out of your personal life? Do you just want one short-term relationship after another? Are you waiting for the right guy to come along? Well even if he does you probably won’t even know it.

Steps
Why? Because the only way to know you have a guy who loves you for who you are is to find a guy who wants to be with you even though he knows he will only score with you after the wedding, PERIOD. You have to make yourself very clear and resolute on the matter. “Not until we are married!”
If they think they just might have a shot, guys will put in the time, play the game, pretend to be who they think you want them to be in order to score without a wedding band.
You could be wasting your time on a man who will never marry you if you do not make yourself absolutely clear.
If he stays once he knows that for sure, than you know he’s there because he likes YOU. And before that wedding you have to spend enough time together for each of you to get to know the other very well.
You don’t want to be divorced 10 years from now trying to start all over because you got into a marriage where one or both of you weren’t happy.
Don’t pretend to be who you aren’t. If he doesn’t love who you really are than neither one of you will be happy when he discovers your true self.
Have you ever heard guys use the saying “get some strange”? There is a strong draw on many guys, for those they have not had.
Do not underestimate it! Even if you found a guy who has been waiting for that wedding night but you give in early, that could be the end of it. That urge for “strange” has been satisfied and could now be directed at another.
It’s sort of like seeing that item for sale in the window. You want it. You save up for it, and after you buy it, you wear it once and then it sits in the closet.
Oh, and don’t think that letting yourself get pregnant would be the answer. Most guys these days would just take off, never to be seen again. And even if the father would marry you it would probably be a very unhappy and short marriage. Then you would be some guy’s ex-wife with a kid, which sends most guys running.
Please don’t be offended by my brutal words. I am just trying to give you a little insight into the minds of most men. Until they have strong feelings for you, men can be very unfeeling in their actions and opinions.

Tips
Ask him what he wants out of life.
How does he plan on accomplishing those goals?
What is he doing to accomplish those goals?
Do his goals fit in with your goals?
Read the book “Men are from Mars / Women are from Venus” together. The name sounds lame, but it is a very enlightening book.
Use every opportunity you get to learn more about him.

Warnings
If he doesn’t want to talk to you about his future, he probably doesn’t want to spend it with you.
If he doesn’t want to spend time improving your relationship, he probably doesn’t care about it.
If you smoke, quit. If he smokes and won’t quit, drop him like the fool he is.
“Birds of a feather flock together” If his friends are the wrong kind of people, he almost surely is too.
Tattoos attract most men for the wrong reason. They give the thought that you are “damaged goods”, usable, and disposable. Think twice before getting one.

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get a real good man

It is not easy for women to find a good man, and to be honest it is not easy for a man to find a good woman. I write this from a man’s perspective to help frustrated women that are sincerely looking for a good man but keep finding losers.

Steps
Be yourself. When you meet someone for the first time, you may be tempted in trying to be someone you’re not, such as “putting on your best face”. However, it is possible to take this too far and in turn repel men. The same applies with myths about dressing sexy and excessive flirtation. Good men respond negatively when girls go overboard on these items, and may not take you seriously anymore. Be yourself, and a real man will respect you.
Be relaxed and cool. Most guys hate it when girls are possessive, bitchy, clingy, controlling, etc. Learn to relax, and have fun. We all have too much going on in our lives, including men, don’t be the high maintenance “drama queen”. Having a woman around who makes life more difficult than enjoyable will make a man lose interest. If you do things like show genuine concern when the man has had a rough day, it will earn his respect and go toward winning him over and a good man will reciprocate.
Realize differences in communication. It’s no secret, women are 10 times better at reading body language than men. Unfortunately for men 80% of all communication is body language. Since men are not as good at reading body language and rely more on “say what you mean” communication, men can miss the subtle messages that women send in their body language. Don’t judge a guy because of this, it’s just the way men are. Subtle body language like smiles only make us think that you might like us. More “obvious” body language like playful jabs to the arm or attempts to find a man’s ticklish spots not only show us you like us enough to get that physical and playful, but also help to break the physical barrier and allow a man to feel a little more comfortable with making a few advances.
Take a good look at yourself. Psychological studies have shown that people seek out partners to fill a psychological void. Sometimes these voids are unhealthy, for example a woman who is unhealthy will actually seek out any man for the “high of seduction”, or to get attention and feel desirable. Look inside yourself and ask yourself why you want a man so bad, be truly honest with yourself, and if need be talk to a therapist about this. A woman with issues only attracts a guy with issues as well, and a good real man doesn’t want anything to do with a woman who has more issues than TIME magazine. If you want a good, healthy relationship with a real man, make certain that your own mental state and intentions are healthy.
Drop the games. A problem men have with women is the fact that they like to play “head games”. This all goes back to being honest and healthy. Be real, don’t play games, and good men will pursue and respect you. Playing head games will only make good men run away. Remember the communication thing? Well that applies especially true here. If you like a guy, don’t push him away and act like you don’t like him, tell him. It’s not that we don’t like the thrill of the chase, I personally love it, but sending mixed “I like you, I don’t like you” signals confuses and frustrates a good man,and he’ll end up saying “screw it”. Remember, men communicate directly, if you act like you don’t want us, we think you don’t want us.
Treat him like a man. This is the most important thing of all. Men hate being around a woman who emasculates them, and a good man will leave a woman who tries to emasculate them quicker than the plague. Don’t be afraid to help your man feel good about himself. Here’s a little known secret, men are just as insecure as women. If he’s with his friends or family and you happen to be there, be open to opportunities to make your man look like “the man”,it will win his love and respect.
Don’t be afraid to make a move. Let’s be real, a good man doesn’t desperately need any woman, he would like to meet a good woman.

Tips
The best way to meet someone is through other people, or activities you enjoy. Some advice about being genuine: Don’t take up hobbies or habits just to meet someone. If you meet him in a bar, he’s liable to be a drinker. If you meet him in a house of worship, he’s likely to be religious. If his first impression are important, so if his first impression of you is “party girl”, it will be difficult to change.

Warnings
If you want a serious relationship with a good man, you must be willing to not settle for less.

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make the man believe that you are the one

This is a sincere introspective into what seriously makes a man say, “Wow. She’s the one.” It’s not a series of flirtatious moves combined mathematically with a certain ratio of lip gloss to mascara. Despite what most women may believe, we don’t pay much attention to their make-up. The key to getting guy to fall for you, basically, is all about ego… ours, that is.

Steps
Firstly, flirting works. It doesn’t matter if the guy is a club-hopping jigalo or a conservative opposed to pre-marital sex. Simply put, it attracts a man’s attention, focuses it on you, and established you as a romantic prospect. You will know right away whether he has accepted or dismissed your flirting, and usually it will be the former.
Don’t ever ask the guy out. For most guys, this is a severe blow to the male ego and makes him feel inadequate, and hence he will like you less for it. All you have to do is create circumstance. Make sure that you set up the perfect environment for him to ask you out, so that he feels that there is a good chance you will say yes. Remember that too much certainty is a bad thing, as is too much obscurity.
Anytime you are speaking with him, it is about you and him. Even in a public setting, or a group of friends, make sure that your focus of attention is on him, and that you make him feel comfortable talking to you. Basically, don’t make him feel like you’re judging him, and eye contact is key. Otherwise, he will simply not get that you’re interested. We don’t have female intuition. All we’ve got is logic, and unfortunately it works against us sometimes.
On your first date, less make-up, more natural beauty. Whatever style you think looks great on you naturally, use it. We tend to look at natural beauty more as the one we fall in love with than the one that’s made-up for an hour to look that way.
Build his ego. This step is key, and this is the one that makes the guy “suddenly realize” how great you are. Don’t outwardly compliment him, that’s too obvious. Instead, try to make him believe that in your eyes he’s perfect (i.e. the smartest, the strongest, etc.). This isn’t an actual thing you say, it’s more of an attitude that you give off when you’re around him as opposed to other men. This will make him see how special you are for thinking he is special.
DO NOT FLIRT WITH OTHER GUYS. Period. We scare off easy, and for those who don’t, they won’t appreciate you handing out your charm to whatever guy passes the corner. We want to feel like you’ve reserved that part of yourself just for us and that we are the only ones who get to see it. It makes us feel special in regards to you, which in turn, builds our ego, which (again), makes us appreciate you more.
If there are things that he is interested in that you are not, try to partake in them or discuss them with him at least once before mentioning to him that you’re not really interested in them. The reason I mention this is because the very fact that you were willing to partake in something that he liked that you didn’t will make him see you as committed, considerate, and caring. The fact that you are willing to open yourself up to even the parts of him that you don’t necessarily like will allow him to see how special YOU are to him. And at this point, you’re almost there.
At this point, you should be dating, and he should be pretty into the relationship. All you have to do now is make yourself a rare commodity. Don’t pick up the phone on the first ring. Be busy on certain “date-nights”. DON’T be cold, that’ll make him think you’ve either lost interest, are seeing someone else, or are playing games. He won’t like any of those. Simply, make yourself a bit less “acquirable” than usual, only for a while, about a week. (Not more than two.)
When you finally become “available” again, let him know that it was worth the wait. The next time you go out, be as charming as you can be, as pretty as you can be, and make him remember what he’s been missing out on the last week or so. This step makes him realize that he cannot, in fact, live without you.
Finally, he is head-over-heels in love with you. (and let’s hope you are too.) At this point, simply let your relationship progress naturally. Don’t fight too often, remember to talk things through. And as a last point of advice, guys like having things to fix. Whether it’s a broken car or a broken heart, men like fixing things, and let’s face it, you’re not perfect. So don’t be afraid to open up about your problems at work, with your family, etc. because chances are he will want to help you with them, and it will also keep him busy.

Tips
Remember that you’re just as special as he is, if not more. You should expect that he treats you and your relationship with the same level of respect and commitment that you do. Otherwise, he may just not be worth it.

Warnings
Don’t get clingy, and don’t ever make the first move in terms of “the next step”. All you have to do is make him feel comfortable and trust him to make the commitment.
Don’t play games. Period. Most of the time we don’t understand them, or we don’t know how to play them, or both.
Don’t mention how attractive other guys are or how sexy your new tennis instructor is. We WILL take it the wrong way. There are safer ways to get us jealous.

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get the guy to call back

Summary
Some good advice on what to do when a guy won’t call you back.

Steps
First things first. Do NOT call him. However much you have to annoy your friends, or how much ice cream you need to eat, or whatever trail you have to hike, do not call the man. If he wants to call you, he will. If he doesn’t, then there’s nothing really that can be done.
Be patient. Lately there’s a lot of self help advice going around that tells guys not to call a woman for anywhere between 2 days to 2 weeks after first meeting and getting the phone number. I would advise not waiting more than 3 days before starting to consider someone else…unless you want a detached, aloof, robot of a man.
When you feel you’ve waited long enough, be that 2 days or a week, send out a probe. One SMS, call, or message is enough. You’re just checking to see if he’s alive, and that is all. If you must resort to this, call with a reason.
If he does not answer in a timely manner, delete his phone number and all related contact information for him. You don’t have to block him. Just make sure you won’t be contacting him. Remove all temptation.
Enjoy the memory if it was happy. Learn from it, and move on. Maybe he’ll wake up when he hears about how wonderful a woman you are, how beautiful you are, and how well you cook, from your new boyfriend. By then though, it’ll be too late.
Don’t view it as him rejecting you. View it as his simply not being ready for you or not recognizing your value. Who wants a guy who doesn’t value them?
Get support from your friends. You’re not the first woman to be left hanging, and you won’t be the last. Sometimes it helps to talk about these things with someone who has been through it. Remember, some of your guy friends have been through this too. They never got sent the probe.

Additional Reading
He’s Just Not That Into You: The No-Excuses Truth to Understanding Guys — by Greg Behrendt, Liz Tuccillo;
This is a recent book written by a male and coauthored by a female. He was tired of seeing woman hurt and confused by the males way of thinking. He’s very blunt and forthright, doesn’t sugar coat anything. Tells you why the guy won’t call for every scenario there is. In other words, if he’s not calling you, he’s never going to call you because he’s just not that into you. Don’t you deserve better? Don’t you deserve someone who can’t wait to call you? Don’t sit around waiting for someone who won’t call, get the book and then find a better male. Good luck.

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be the rules girl and get the guy you want

llow these important Rules to get the man of your dreams and keep him faithful and interested in you forever!

Steps
Realize that you are a creature unlike any other. If you feel this way about yourself, men will see you that way. Take time to make yourself look the best you possibly can on the outside to make yourself feel confident on the inside. Confident girls are attractive to men.
Understand that a relationship was NEVER MEANT TO BE if you pursued him. (Made the first move, asked him out, called him first). No matter what, THERE ARE NO EXCEPTIONS to this rule. All men, whether they know it or not, are programmed to pursue and will appreciate it in the end if you do not make the first move.
Be honest, but mysterious. Answer his questions truthfully but do not start talking about your family problems on the first few dates. Men do not need to know everything about you, especially not right away. You do not want to be an open book now do you?
Wait a while to sleep with him. Nothing more than kissing on the first three dates. This will earn his respect.
Do not rely on a man. He is not your counselor, best friend, or shopping buddy. He is your boyfriend and you need to maintain your other relationships and interests. A guy should always add to your life, not take away from it.
Do not talk on the phone with him for longer than ten minutes. Set a timer if you have to. This way you will remain mysterious when you tell him that it was nice talking to him but you are just so busy! (Do not tell him what you’re busy doing). Don’t call a man either. He should call you five times for every one time you call him. If he’s interested in you, he will keep calling. Let him pursue you.

Tips
Do not call men. Call a friend instead.
Ever noticed how there are so many guys you could have that you just aren’t interested in but the one you do like shows no interest back? This is because you unknowingly do the Rules on the men you don’t like. You don’t call them excessively, you don’t act interested.
Don’t get hung up on one guy. As hard as it is to accept this, if he doesn’t ask you out, he’s not interested and it was never meant to be. Move on and maybe he will ask you out then or maybe he won’t. There is someone else out there for you.
Don’t see him everyday. Period. A couple times a week is enough at first.

Warnings
Remember that stalking a guy and telling him you are in love with him and acting clingy when he doesn’t like you will drive your chances of being with him to 0%. DON’T DO IT. You will just embarrass yourself and get hurt. By following the rules you do not get hurt because you do not pursue and you know that if a guy doesn’t call you it isn’t because you called too much or saw him too much. It will be because it wasn’t meant to be.

Things You’ll Need
Confidence
Discipline
Desire for a healthy relationship

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avoid to turn guy off

We all have crushes, but how do we know what a guy on and what turns him completely off?

Steps
Don’t stare. It’s creepy and annoying. If you do it too much, you might be presumed to be a stalker. Look at him and then when he looks back, look away. Don’t just sit and look straight at him or he will think you are crazy.
Calm down. Don’t let your anxiety get to you, since it can make you act jittery and weird. Guys don’t like girls that are always shouting, yelling, and screaming.
Be judicious with your laughter. It’s good to laugh when it’s appropriate, but only do so if it’s actually funny. Otherwise, it’s annoying and he might doubt your sincerity.
Make sure you look clean, neat, and groomed at all times. Your hair should be smooth, your skin should be clear and not exceedingly greasy, and please brush your teeth. Nothing is more disgusting than bad breath and BO.
Shave leg and armpit hair. Instant turn-off.
Show an open or opening gesture or expression.
Be very mature, for example: don’t act like a 6th grader who tells on everybody who says “shut-up”. Guys like women who are mature and intelligent as well.

Tips
You do have a brain for a reason. Use it.
Use common sense.
Be nice. Guys don’t like girls who are just plain mean.
Don’t be a slut unless you only want sex.
Most guys aren’t into girls that play “hard to get”. It gets really annoying. If you like him, show it. He’ll appreciate it.
Men don’t pick up on “subtle hints” like girls do, so don’t be afraid to be a little forward because otherwise they won’t even know you like them in the first place. Let them know you’re interested, but not desperate.
Each guy is different, so there may be turn-offs and turn-on’s that are unique to your crush. DON’T show off.

Warnings
Even with all these things, a guy may still not be interested in you. That’s life.
Don’t mistake sexual attraction for true love.

Things You’ll Need
A brain
A crush/boyfriend/date/etc…
A really cute, beautiful, hot, sexy body and face.

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avoid making guy feel awkward

If you like a guy who’s a bit awkward towards you, here’s how to act to make the situation go as smoothly as possible. If you don’t like this, find a cooler guy who is cool with himself and not feeling awkward towards you.

Steps
Be more assertive. You may have to be the leader in this situation, because most guys don’t want to get themselves together just for you. So don’t act uncomfortable or awkward–you’d better be pretty easygoing and comfortable if you’re going to make this work.
Have a normal conversation with him about topics that don’t involve personal questions and girlfriend issues.
Avoid clinging. If he doesnt like you, for your sake and his, drop it. It will make you seem desperate, and will only make the guy feel more awkward. So if you ask him why he doesn’t talk to you and he brings up a lame excuse then that’s a clue that he doesn’t really like you.
Move on if it doesn’t work out. There are upwards of 3 billion guys out there, so the odds are in your favor.
Avoid discussing topics such as menstruation.

Tips
Be comfortable.
Take the hints.
Have fun with it.
Go easy on him if he isn’t overly self confident.

Warnings
Don’t be a stalker. A guy may act awkwardly around you because he doesn’t like you, not because he doesn’t know what to do.
If you know he has no interest in you, then don’t tell your friend to ask him why he still won’t talk to you! You will still get a negative answer and it will make him feel even more awkward the next time he’ll see you.
Telling him that he is ugly will definitely make him feel awkward. Use euphemisms intead of directly making negative comments.

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make friends with a guy you just met

Ever seen a guy in a bookstore,school, movie theater,or even on the street, that you wonder what he’s like and what it would be like to get to know him? Do you like the style that person has? Do you 100 percent feel that this person is going to fit in with you? Why not go with it?

Steps
Segue into a conversation. Don’t just go up to the guy and ask what his name is; mention something about him that you find interesting, and get into a conversation that way. Some examples are: “I’ve read that, it’s really good.” “Sorry, that vending machine’s broken. Don’t you hate it when that happens?” “Wow, it’s like these cashiers are moving underwater.” “Nice shirt. I love their music.” “Do you know what time it is?”
Smile and laugh. Nothing puts people more at ease than if they think someone else is having fun. It will open him up more and make him more interesed in talking to you.
Ask at least 5 questions about himself; you shouldn’t hog the whole conversation. Just make sure they’re in context and not out of the blue.
If things seem to be going well, ask him for his email adress or screename.Those are more casual than talking on the phone, and don’t have all the cultural strings attatched to “talking on the phone with a guy”. It will make you seem less forward.
Don’t send him an email/im him right when you get home; wait a day or two. When you do first email/im him, restate who you are,like “remember me from…?”
You have three choices now:
>If you want to be freinds with him, that’s really as far as you have to go. A string of emails or the occasional IM means you did it! You’ve succeded in becoming freinds with a guy you just met.
>If you want to be closer freinds with him, invite him out to the movies with a couple of your close friends (be sure to invite guys too to make him more comfortable). If your friends get to know him,you’ll probably be seeing him more often.
> If you find out you like him as more than a freind, also invite him to the movies with your freinds. If you both like it,make it a regular thing. Start flirting with him a little; he’ll get the idea. If he seems to want to go farther with you, invite him to the movies, just the two of you, and see what happens.

Tips
Talk, smile, say anything, to fail is better than to do nothing.
Don’t be afraid. You only have one life,and if he doesn’t like you, you’ll probably never see him again.

Warnings
Not everybody will want to be your friend. Such is life.
If you see that he’s not really into the conversation, it’s probably because he’s not interested in you. Take the hint; just say something like “Ok, so I’ll see you around then,” and go away. There’s no point in staying there if he doesn’t really want to be there.
If you get uncomfortable with the conversation or feel that something’s wrong, trust your gut instinct and get out of there immediately. Say you’re late for something or pretend to get a phone call. Striking up conversations with people you’ve never seen before can be really fun and interesting, but it can also sometimes be dangerous.

Things You’ll Need
A guy you think would be cool to get to know
Common sense
The time to chat

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get the guy you want fast

Luckily, the human male is basic and easy to use, though not easy to understand! In order to get the guy, you truly have to “get” the guy, get it?

Steps
Find out where guys are coming from in general. You’ve probably heard that men are from Mars and women are from Venus, so don’t assume that guys think the way do, nor that they interpret situations the way you do. Learn what to expect from them.
Get to know him. Sometimes we become enamored with a fantasy that the guy can fit into, more than the real person himself. Make sure your intentions are genuine and show him how you feel.
Understand that appearance is most certainly not everything. There are, of course, some guys who feel that appearance outweighs personality in a relationship, but that is not true for all guys. (See the Tips below.) Keep your appearance the way it normally is unless you are already dating and dressing up for an occasion, because if you are not desired for who you truly are, then why be involved in a relationship in which you portray yourself as something you are not?
Make conversation. Take an interest in who he is–what he likes, where he’s coming from, where he wants to go–and show him who you are, too. Look for common ground but also use this as an opportunity to open your mind and respect his individuality. Whether he’s into death metal or Nascar, take an interest in his interests.
Learn to read him. Every guy has his own way of showing that he likes someone, and you can find out what his is by being observant and patient.
Find out what he’s looking for in a girlfriend (or what he’s bent on avoiding) and see if that matches up with who you are and who you’re striving to be. But, don’t bend your personality to fit his ideals–remember to be yourself.

Tips
Clothing is a very controversial issue to guys, because they’re divided. There seems to be one group of guys who feel that the girl should wear whatever she feels comfortable in, because that confidence (in herself) alone is sexy. However, there exists another group of guys who feel that the girl should wear clothing that shows off her body. Whichever way you go, don’t go overboard–don’t get so comfortable that you’re in rags, and don’t get to dressed up that you look like a cheap thrill.
Be nice to his friends. If the two of you end up dating, you don’t want there to be a persistent conflict between you and his friends. Think about it from your own perspective: Your friends not liking someone for you might not necessarily stop you from dating him, but it’ll sure put a strain on both relationships. It’s much nicer if your romantic interest makes a sincere effort to befriend your friends.
All guys are different, as are all girls. If something doesn’t work with one guy, just remember that there are millions of them out there that you could speak to, and that they are not all the same, so generalizations about how to get a guy cannot be slapped on any of them.

Warnings
Just because you like him doesn’t mean he’s a great guy. Get to know him and see if he’s right for you.
Before you start flirting up a storm, make sure he doesn’t have a girlfriend already. It will make him and his girlfriend very uncomfortable.

Things You’ll Need
Self-esteem.
Courage. You’ve got to be yourself.
A working knowledge of what you actually want out of life/love/relationships.

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understand a man

Many women have never really understood men, and this can affect their relationships with them. Here are some things you’ll need to know.

Steps
Be ready for sloppy finances. Most men forget to pay bills, have money stashed away and don’t mind spending a lot of money on gadgets. They will make a great impression on a woman about their finances early in the relationship, only for her to find out later that the money isn’t what it seems.
Prepare yourself for a double standard when it comes to looks. Men don’t care too much about their pot bellies; yet they will criticize a woman for being overweight. These same men lose their hair and aren’t mindful of their breath after they have gotten to know you.
Keep it real. Guys aren’t big on using tons of personal products. Deodorant? Yes! Hair Stuff? Maybe. They mostly believe natural is the best, and they love it when girls act the same. Sure, you look great when you take time to put on a little lip gloss or a touch of mascara, but you’ve got know when to stop. A woman whose face is covered in sparkles and hair so stiff a tornado couldn’t budge it just isn’t pretty to most men.
Let him enjoy his hobbies, like sports. If you want to rub him the wrong way real fast, talk to him while a game is on or tie up his day shopping when the game is about to start and you may find yourself without a man.
Try talking about your family issues, money woes and boss on the job. If your man truly cares about you, he will offer his opinion on what you should do. It’s not that you want his advice, it’s just that he is programmed to problem solve and he will do just that if you don’t warn him before you tell the story that you don’t need his advice.
Get physical. Most men have this desire to be playfully physical with you, each other or by themselves. For example, shadow boxing, wrestling, shoving, weight lifting, running or simply clicking the remote. Some men still haven’t grown up and will enjoy making you a part of their playfulness for instance, pulling hair, slapping a butt, streaking, etc.
Accept his other female friends and acquaintances. Many men do a lot of talking with at least one female whether in the family or someone on the job. This is the person who knows just about everything about you. When he bought jewelry, clothes or some other gift for you, the woman on the job or the female relative more than likely was the one he consulted with before he made the purchase. If it wasn’t either of those women, it was definitely the sales clerk. There are a few men out there who just won’t talk to any woman other than his wife or girlfriend about any personal issues, but those men are hard to find.
Watch how you dress. Sexy attire to men spells sex. If you are wearing a mini-skirt and your breasts are protruding out, it is hard for a man to think about anything else. Don’t give him the wrong impression, if you aren’t interested in sex.
Let him do the talking. Ever notice how guys don’t talk a lot, especially when it comes to talking about themselves? They don’t feel like it’s totally necessary for everyone to know everything, like what they ate for lunch or what they dreamed about the night before. And it’s likely that they don’t want to know every tiny thing about you. Instead of talking about yourself all the time, try waiting until he asks a question.
Keep in mind that clothes aren’t the most important thing in the world. Ever seen a guy burst into tears because his best friend is wearing the same shirt? Or, because he couldn’t get a sweatshirt in the right shade of blue? Never! They just don’t usually function that way. Don’t be surprised if that have a hard time empathizing when you freak out because another woman has the same dress as you do at your cousin’s wedding!
Ask, don’t assume. If a man wants to know how you’re feeling, he’ll usually ask. Females think they have a “sixth sense” about guys, so they read into everything: If he’s quiet, it means he doesn’t like you. If he looks at another girl, you’re about to get dumped. If he doesn’t email you back right away, its over, Right? No Way! Calm down, take a deep breath and if you still just have to know what’s going on in his head, ask the dude.
Don’t bother gossiping with him. Despite what you might think, guys don’t really gossip, especially about girls. They might tell a close friend they’re crushing on a chick, but guys don’t usually get all chatty and spread rumors. Guys know how to keep info on the down low and you should too. If you think gossiping about people makes you look popular and cool, most guys will just think you are shallow and petty.
Leave cloning in the lab. Some fellas are super-tight with their pals, but you’ll notice they always give each other enough space to be themselves. It’s great to have a best friend, but its also OK to do something on your own–like joining a club different form your pals. It’s good to have experience different form your friends. It makes you way more interesting. In other words, guys aren’t keen on why a woman would attach herself at the hip to a friend as if they’re Siamese twins.
Eat when you’re hungry. When a guy’s hungry, he says, “I’m hungry,” then he eats–the end. Men typically think it’s silly when girls talk about food/diets/calories all the time. It gets really old really fast. They also appreciate a gal who eats normally–that means no starving yourself, and no obsessing endlessly over the size of your thighs. So eat lunch and stop talking about it already. The worst that can happen is that you’ll quit focusing on negative energy on your body image, and soon you’ll be feeling more positive and confident–and guys won’t think you’re a wannabe stick figure.

Tips
Be yourself

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how not to be an obssessive girlfriend

One of the most amazing traits in women is our ability to submerge ourselves into the man of our desire. Women become attached emotionally, some very quickly, and assume that the man shares these same feelings and desires. However, this can be a sure fire way to push the “man of your dreams” out of your life.

Steps
Give him space. If he wants to hang out with friends, encourage it. Let him know that you want him to have a good time and to spend as much time with them as he’d like. (Then follow step 4.) If you have to, fake it. There are times when you would really rather spend that time with your man than have him out with his friends, however forcing him to spend time with you results in his pulling further away. If you’re able to encourage and support his time away it will reinforce his belief that you want what is best for him, and in the long run it will strengthen your relationship.
Take time for yourself. Visit friends, family, take a class, anything you find interesting or would like to learn. Do this even if you have to tear yourself away from your man. He should be supportive of you, and encourage your interests, too. Focusing only on the one you love isn’t living; it’s also about personal growth and experiencing new things. Taking time for yourself isn’t selfish. If you aren’t the best person you can be, then you can’t expect to be the person you need to be for your significant other.
Keep your hobbies and friends. All of us tend to become obsessive at the beginning of a relationship. The key to a healthy relationship is balance. Couples need time apart to reestablish their individual identities. Remind yourself of who you are by reconnecting with friends/relatives, or picking up those old hobbies you’ve been setting aside. Suggest that he do the same. This is a simple way to show him that you are confident and interesting (even if you don’t feel very confident or interesting). Suggest to him that he go out with his friends while you visit with yours. Or even suggest he work on his hobby or interest while you take time for yours.
Set up days or times to reconnect after spending time apart. This is simple and very effective. After asking for time apart, set up a time and day to reconnect. For instance, if one of you wants to hang out with friends for the day, suggest that you could meet him later for dinner. Or suggest a time the following day, and an activity, in which the both of you could get together. This gives both people in the relationship permission to enjoy their time apart, while also giving each of you a grounding point, or rather a reassurance in knowing you will see the other person and they wish to see you.
Reaffirm who you are and why you are special. Do those things that you do best. If you’re not sure, try everything. If you’re feeling less then confident, or insecure in your relationship, sometimes it helps to go back to something that created a sense of accomplishment. Don’t look for confidence from your partner, find it within yourself. To do this, seek out those things which you can succeed at.
Suggest he take time for his hobbies and interests. The key is to allow him to choose by assuring him you want to spend time with him, but letting him know you understand the importance of his hobbies and interests, too. Let him know that you can and will find activities to occupy yourself while he enjoys his time. This frees him from feeling guilty for taking that time for himself. You create a bonding situation by suggesting that the both of you go to stores that are of interest to him. For example, if he enjoys video games, suggest a trip to the video game store. Help him look for games he wants, or maybe is interested in. Then give him space to use those games.
Know when to back off. Learn his body language. Ask questions. Listen to what he is saying. Men don’t always come out and say how they feel, and may not tell you even if you ask. Listen to what your gut instinct is telling you. If you feel he is pulling away, don’t force yourself on him more. A woman’s tendency is to be clingier at this point. The problem is it drives men away. A possible solution involves letting him know you are available when he wants, while finding other things to do with your time, or discuss the situation with him.

Tips
Hang up the phone. If you’re calling him 24 hours a day, stop. In worst case scenarios, turn your phone off. It’s okay to call and see how his day is, but if you’re calling every couple of hours, this could reinforce his belief that you have nothing else going on in your life. People are attracted to interesting people. If your only interest is him, then he’s going to lose interest in you. Some ideas to refrain from grabbing the phone are: Call a friend, take a nap, go for a walk and pick flowers for him, learn something new that you can discuss with him later, learn more about his hobbies/interests through research.
Start a journal. Write your feelings, not what you did during the day. Try to discover why you feel a certain way. Insecurity often leads people to act in ways that men would describe as crazy. If you’re worried about losing him, dig deep into why you feel that way. Not how is he acting, but why YOU are concerned about losing him. Fear of being alone? Fear of rejection? A journal is a place where you can explore your thoughts and feelings without having to set them in stone. It should be an area where you can express every possible emotion without fearing recrimination. Once on paper, re-examine it, does it still sound true to you? What can you do so that you won’t fear rejection or loneliness, and can become more confident in who you are?
Stop following him when you aren’t together. Don’t follow him when he says he’s going to a friend’s house so that you can check up on him. This is an instant message to him that you don’t trust him. Men aren’t stupid; they see your car parked down the street.
Create situations that have an ending point. For instance, you want to hang out with him during the afternoon, ask him if he’s interested and then suggest that after the outing he can drop you off at your house. This gives him the freedom to decide if he would like to spend the rest of the evening with you, instead of feeling as if he’s trapped into spending it with you.
Communication. Ask questions and then listen. Clarify anything you may not understand by asking questions.
Quality time, not quantity time. Use the time you do have together wisely. Ask yourself if you’d rather have 8 hours of mediocre time with him, or 2 hours of fantastic time together.
Trust. Obsessive behavior usually stems from a feeling of mistrust. Unfortunately trust can only be built over time, but you must have a basis to build from. If you don’t feel you can trust him while he is away, discuss this with him. Also, ask yourself why you feel this way? What is he doing to cause this mistrust in you? Is it his actions, or are you drawing from past experiences? What can you do to help you face this fear?
Approach all arguments or discussions with an open mind. Be willing to listen and understand his side.
Remember that each relationship is different, and no two people are alike.
In general, without realizing it, we tend to be attracted to people who show the better qualities that are within human beings. Love, beauty, courage, kindness, confidence, trust, honesty and friendliness are some of these qualities and there are many more. When we live out our best qualities, we tend to be attracted to and we attract others who do the same. We tend to want to avoid people who live out some of the worse qualities. When was the last time you were attracted to bitterness, meanness and cruelty in a person?

Warnings
Seek help if you are in an abusive situation, or if you find that your infatuation with this person is consuming your life.
Letting him have his space to do things like drink with his friends does not mean that he shouldn’t call if he’s going to be late. It doesn’t give him permission to pursue other women. And it certainly doesn’t give him the right to wake you up in hopes of a late night drunken encounter when he finally gets home.
If staying out late with his friends is about more than just getting in some guy time—remember: you can’t force love. If what you have isn’t meant to be, no amount of angry outbursts over his guy-time will make your relationship work.
Don’t be his go-to girl, just because he cannot find anything else to do. Be smart. Be real.
All of these suggestions should not be tried from the point of view that these will fix a relationship that isn’t working by “making” someone have more feelings. Relationships are built on feelings for the other person, and love comes only from loving. If you find yourself following these suggestion in order to elicit a specific response, then it could be because you’re wanting to make the other person feel and in turn, show you feelings they might not have. If you’re wondering what you can do to make someone have more feelings for you, the answer is nothing. At that point, I’d start asking, ‘What is it really that attracts you to this person? – the person, themselves, or one or two qualities they have.
Never just assume that your boyfriend is cheating on you and start checking up on him. That is VERY annoying, a TOTAL turnoff, and you will be very embarrassed if he isn’t after all.

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CONVERSATION SKILLS

start conversation with a stranger

So you decided to meet new people, yet you don’t know what to start talking about. Here are a few ways to find common topics to get acquainted.

Steps
Greet the stranger, and smile in a friendly way.
Ask in a general, friendly tone, “How are you?”, “How have things been?” “Nice weather we’re having!”
Go into general topics in common, such as
current news, issues (avoiding hot button political debates)
weather
interests
friendly topics such as food, music, movies, books, sports, Broadway, fashion, etc. The topics that are on the MySpace forums are excellent topics for conversation starters. Just omit topics such as Business and Entrepreneurs, Film making (this is myspace only), hardcore politics, religion, and some of the creepy general discussion topics.
Observe any visual clues to draw a topic out. For example, a certain wristband, watch, gadget. Notice if someone looks interested or bored.
Ask them what kind of genre (for example: pop, reggae, country, and etc.) of music that the person likes. Once they tell you, try to think of a song from that genre that you know, and could use to get the conversation started. Sometimes simple things like these are really good conversation starters especially if the person happens to like the same kind of music that you do. You can discuss different bands, or singers. Discuss maybe what concerts you have been to, or would like to go see. Ask them what kind of concert they would go to if they had the chance to.
Ask them what their favorite food is. For example you might want to ask them if they like Mexican food, or maybe American food perhaps. Once they reply to you, you respond with your kind of favorite food, and then you proceed to ask them which restaurant they like the most. This good conversation starter is especially good with new dates that you go out with. This way you know where to take them when you take them out the next time you see them. Plus maybe you, and the other person might even like the same restaurant so that makes it even better.

Tips
Repeat their name after they say it once, to confirm the pronunciation and to for storing it in your brain.
Be able to agree to disagree on topics, if it gets very heated and no real solution.

Warnings
General topics to avoid: Religion, Politics, Sex, Philosophy, World Problems, Death and Divorce, and the other hardcore topics.
If you choose to introduce yourself, use only your first name. While you may have the best intentions, the stranger you’ve just met may not.

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how to have a great conversation

Do you want to relax and be comfortable in a conversation? Do you end up feeling completely awkward instead? The art of conversation takes practice, but is not as hard as you might think. It will take some knowledge, practice, and patience, but you can learn to relax and enjoy a great conversation.

Steps
Forget yourself. Dale Carnegie once said, “It’s much easier to become interested in others than it is to convince them to be interested in you.” If you are too busy thinking about yourself, what you look like, or what the other person might be thinking, you will never be able to relax. Introduce yourself, shake hands, then forget yourself and focus on them instead.
Find out what the other person is interested in. You can even do some research in advance when you know you will have an opportunity to talk with a specific person. Complimenting them is a great place to start. Everyone likes sincere compliments, and that can be a great ice-breaker.
Ask questions. What do they like to do? What sort of things have they done in their life? What is happening to them now? What did they do today or last weekend? Identify things about them that you might be interested in hearing about, and politely ask questions. Remember, there was a reason that you wanted to talk to them, so obviously there was something about them that you found interesting.

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JOURNEYS OF FRIENDSHIP

JOURNEYS OF FRIENDSHIP

30 TRUE STORIES OF KINDRED CONNECTIONS

 

Introduction

Can you remember the first friend you met in elementary school? Maybe she shared her “lucky” pencil with you, then a smile, and later, her secrets. Maybe he had the best tree house in the second grade and insisted you come over every afternoon to help “work” on it – which translated into many fun hours of banging nails into old boards.

The thirty compelling stories in this book, the very best of the God Allows U-Turns collection, offer a glimpse into extraordinary acts of friendship that are found in the minutiae of everyday life. Whether it’s the lasting bond of lifelong friends or the new ties of sworn enemies who have found a way to love each other, kindred connections are unveiled in important, God-inspired moments.

These moments make up the milestones along the journey. We mark our days and the passing of time not by the accomplishments or possessions, but by the relationships that have impacted our lives. And the friends God has blessed us with fuel our journey. Read on and experience the God-inspired moments in these thirty stories. Perhaps they’ll serve as poignant reminders of your own milestone relationships.

 

 

Crossing the Bridge of Friendship

By: Elizabeth Turner, Oakville, Ontario

 

 

Maybe it was his crippled stature that first drew me to the old man across the road. My years as an ICU nurse had developed my high level of interest in anyone with an obvious debilitation. The level of his impairment was extreme. The arthritis, so apparent, had bowed his limbs to a grotesque degree. On the very few occasions that I saw him out of his motorized wheelchair, he was a piteous site. He was shrunken to perhaps four feet, and it is difficult to aptly describe the severity of his body’s betrayal. His age was difficult to decipher, but his eldest son, a strapping six-footer, appeared to be approaching his thirties.

Their arrival in our neighborhood caused many tongues to wag. It wasn’t so much the fact that they were East Indian by nationality. Our typically Canadian street represented the best of our nation’s “tossed salad”. It was, perhaps, the number of inhabitants in the home that we thought odd. There seemed to be at least three adult couples residing in the home. Making things even more intriguing was that fact that the three women residents were all in various stages of pregnancy.

As I customarily do with all new arrivals on our street, I delivered a home-baked pie and welcome card shortly after they moved in. With a distinct language barrier, we depended on body language to express ourselves. After my initial introduction, very few words were spoken between my new neighbors and myself. Waves and smiles were the best we could achieve.

Through their first winter, I seldom saw the old man outside, but he maintained a strident vigil at the lovely picture window at the front of the home.

By the spring, three new inhabitants had made an appearance. With interest – or nosiness, depending on your outlook – I watched the arrangement of the household. Leaving early each morning were the three young men and two of the wives. By eight each morning, as I took my own children to school, the old man would be perched in their driveway, one child strapped to his back and another occupying each of his arms. I always waved.

The two little girls and the tiny boy were gorgeous babies. All had sooty lashes that accentuated their beauty. The old man would smile and nod his head as I admired his charges. By 9:30, the remaining wife would come and take one child at a time, presumably for feeding and diapering. Throughout the rest of the day, it appeared the babies were on a rotating schedule. While one was inside, the old man would have one on his back and one in his lap. At the end of the day, the other adults would arrive home, and the old man would be released from his duties. Remarkably, this was the time when from his wheelchair, he would toil in the garden. In short order, my appreciation of the old man grew. Over the course of the next few years, I watched from the sidelines. The children grew rapidly, each delighting in the old man’s attentions. The highlight of the day appeared to be “The Race”. Placing one child on his lap, he would put his chair in high gear and rush to the corner. The remaining two would count off the amount of time that it took and, in a language I didn’t understand, urge the old man to go even faster on their turn. It was a sight to behold. Unable to turn away, I occasionally felt like a voyeur, vicariously feeling a bit of their joy.

While leaving the house one day, I was met with curious spectacle. Standing in their driveway were the three sons, their wives, and the children. They all had an unmistakable air of sadness about them. As I watched, the entire group moved toward me from across the street. Bowing, the eldest of the sons handed me an envelope. My heart was pounding as I saw the tear-swollen faces of the three women. It didn’t take long for the realization of their loss to set in. No more would I delight in the antics of the children and their grandfather.

My grief was genuine, and I shook each of the son’s hands in turn, unable to stop my own tears. The “home wife,” as I had come to call her, came forward and, for the first time, looked me directly in the eye. Not a word was spoken, but when I felt her arms around my shoulders, our hearts spoke words that neither of us could find. I prayed silently for God to comfort them all in this time of sorrow.

After delivering the kids to school, I realized that I had driven with unopened envelope clutched in my hand. Opening it, I was surprised to see the very card that I had presented to them four years earlier. I started crying, thinking of the dear present that the old man had left for me. Boldly scrawled across the front of the card, he had left me the one word that he knew I would understand – FRIEND.

Angel in a Snowsuit

By: Ellen Javernick, Loveland, Colorado

 

Time didn’t have much meaning for Mrs. Ramsey. Her only daughter, a darling little girl with long black braids and a sparkling smile, died of leukemia when she was in second grade, and her husband died just a few years later. She felt old, unloved, and unneeded. One day was pretty much the same as the next, and Valentine’s Day crept up almost unnoticed.

She was surprised one February morning when she answered the door and saw a rosy-cheeked boy of five or six standing on her doorstep. He was stuffed into a bright blue snowsuit. In his mittened hands he held a bunch of cheery red carnations “and baby’s breath, too,” marveled Mrs. Ramsey. The little boy pushed the bouquet at Mrs. Ramsey and dashed off down the street before she had time to protest that she had no one to send her flowers. She carried the bouquet inside and looked for a card that might explain the gift. She found a red construction-paper heart in the folds of the paper wrapped around the flowers. “We Love You” was carefully printed on the handmade card. It was signed, “The Children of Edgemont School.”

Mrs. Ramsey didn’t know quite what to make of the gift. I haven’t, she admitted to herself, been especially nice to the Edgemont boys and girls. She’d even gotten crabby and scolded the children who walked past her house on their way to school. She’d called the principal to complain about their noisy laughter on the playground and shaken her broom at them when they stomped through puddles on her sidewalk. She’d been furious when she found a small snow angel on the front lawn. Why would they send her a Valentine card? “Which teacher thought to send her the Valentine flowers?” I asked.

Allison laughed. “That’s about the strangest part of the story. Miss Perlee was teaching kindergarten then, and she decided it would be nice to send Valentine thank-you’s to some of the neighborhood volunteers. She got one of the grocery stores to give her a good price on carnations and then had the children divide them into bouquets. The kids cut out the hearts and copied the words. She gave the flowers to children to drop off on their way home. Little Davey Hamilton was supposed to deliver the flowers to a volunteer on Mrs. Ramsey’s street but had trouble with his numbers. Instead of leaving the flowers for the faithful volunteer who lived at 741, he took them to Mrs. Ramsey at 714!”

“Did she ever find out? Mrs. Ramsey, I mean?” I asked Allison.

“Davey admitted his mistake,” said Allison, “when he was in sixth grade.”

Mrs. Ramsey said it wasn’t a mistake. “God knew exactly what He was doing the day He sent me an angel on a snowsuit.”

 

 

The Hug Fund

By Cheryl Norwood, Canton, Georgia

 

 

You would think that getting married somewhat later I life than most couples, Mike and I would have been more established financially. However, neither of us brought much to the marriage cash-wise. We had decent jobs but not much savings. Mike was your typical bachelor before our marriage; that is, he had a new car, expensive furniture, and stereo equipment but no money in the bank. I had been supporting an antique habit and a shoe addiction. But we were comfortable and enjoyed being able to contribute money to several worthy causes on top of our tithe to our local church. God had truly blessed us, and we enjoyed sharing those blessings with others.

Then the bottom fell out. Four months into our marriage, an uninsured driver hit me. Then Mike’s company closed its doors. My insurance was limited and did not cover home nursing care for me. Even with the help of our wonderful family and friends, Mike had to stay home with me and missed out on several job opportunities. Finally, we were both able to go back to work, but our meager savings were depleted, and debts had added up.

We knew we would be back on our feet eventually, and we were very grateful for the physical healing God had given me. God had really watched out for us, blessing us mot only with the physical healing but with a deepening of our love for each other, as well as with an awareness of all the wonderful people around us.

What could we give back? It was a struggle just to pay our tithe each week. There was no money for anything extra. We stretched those pennies so far that Lincoln screamed! Every time a need came up, we would empty our pockets, but we felt it was so little and the needs were so great. We wanted badly to share God’s goodness to us with others.

One day I received a check for just over ten dollars, a rebate on an insurance overpayment. I cashed it and brought the money home. I put it in an antique tea tin on the shelf in the living room. Mike and I decided to start a fund and let God tell us how to spend it. We prayed about this little fund, asking Him to show us how our tiny sum of money could make a difference for Him.

The next week, a friend at work was very depressed. She was recently divorced and feeling overwhelmed by loneliness. She didn’t share much with us, but one day as I was going down the hall, I overheard her say, “I feel invisible, like no one would even notice if I just suddenly disappeared.” I went home to Mike, and we prayed about it and then decided we would put the ten dollars in a card to her. Since she knew my handwriting, Mike addressed the card. We bought a little encouragement card and wrote a short note and signed it, “God loves you and so do we. You make a difference!”

Not much of a gif, but when I saw my friend at work a few days later, she was just bubbling. She had never shared anything personal with us at work, but around the coffeepot that morning, she told everyone about the card and gift. She said she treated herself and the kids to pizza with the ten dollars (this was ten years ago!), and they had a little party for no reason. She said to us, “I felt like God reached down and gave me a big hug!”

Thus began God’s Hug Fund. We would put in leftover change and money saved by using coupons. Occasionally one of us would have a little overtime in our check, and we would pitch that in the tin. Sometimes it would be Mike who would notice someone who needed “a hug from God.” Sometimes God showed me a person in a need of a hug. We kept it anonymous. We didn’t always send a card, and we didn’t always give cash; sometimes we bought something and left it. Sometimes it was groceries for a family having hard times. Sometimes it was something silly to get a laugh from a grouch!

Through it all, we learned that you don’t need to have a lot to give a lot. We also learned the sweet blessing of giving in secret. When you give in secret, God gets the credit He deserves. Without your pride and the recipient’s pride getting in the way, God has room to work!

While we are very grateful to be able to contribute financially to God’s work in a bigger way now, we still look for little ways to give out those hugs. The neatest blessing to come out of all this is that we are also more aware of all the little hugs God sends our way. Last week alone I received a smile from a child, a thank-you note, a great afternoon shopping with a friend, a free lunch dropped off by someone who knew I was working through lunch at my desk, and help form a neighbor carrying in the groceries.

Someone’s tea tin must be empty, because I think God emptied it out just for me!

 

 

Civil War Friends

By Margaret Sayler, Sacramento, California

 

 

The Doan Family crossed the Missouri creek with aching feet and exhausted bodies. Their journey from Illinois with three wagons had been long. As they approached the large farmhouse, they hoped the owners would put them up for the night.

“Put your horses and wagons in our barn, then join us for dinner,” the farmer said, warmly welcoming them.

Inside the house, ten-year-old Julius Doan smelled the roast pork and saw extended table heaped with food for the farmer and his generous portions of meat, mashed potatoes, corn, biscuits, and apple pan dowdy.

The farmer looked around at the six sons and two daughters of Joseph and Anna Doan.

“My family is smaller than yours,” he said. “But I have another son. During the war he was a captain for the Confederates. We expect him momentarily.”

Julius choked. He looked at John and Jessie, his two older brothers who had just returned from the Civil War. John had even served under Union Commander General William T. Sherman. But now these Union men responded to the farmer’s announcement with casual smiles, as if they considered Confederates friendly neighbors.

After dinner the family and guests settled in the front parlor where the farmer’s daughters played the piano and sang. Normally Julius would have sneaked behind the piano and pulled the young soprano’s pigtails, but tonight his stomach churned. When the farmer’s son appeared, would there be a fight? Julius hated a showdown. He couldn’t understand how the rest of the family kept their composure.

At last the front door opened. Surprisingly, John jumped to his feet. “Matthew!” John cried, his face beaming as the farmer’s son entered the room.

“John!” the farmer’s son, Matthew exclaimed. He turned to his father and explained, “John rustled for Sherman’s army on the march to Savannah! I was his prisoner.”

Mouths flew open. For a moment everyone stared at the two men.

“You treated me well,” the farmer’s son told John. “We became good friends,” he told his father.

Matthew and Johns hook hands. Julius heard the host family say, “John surely must have treated Matthew well!”

Julius settled back in his chair. He thought about the love his brothers had always shown him. Now he knew what made them so special. He often heard them pray, “God, let your Calvary love pour out through our lives.” God had answered their prayers.

Remembering this story in later years stirred the heart of my grandfather, Julius. God’s great love brought Jesus from the splendor of heaven to pay a devastating price for the world’s sin. Anticipating the time when he would see Jesus, Julius knew he would marvel at what Jesus did. This gave him confidence to believe God readily answers our prayers.

As Matthew sat down, surrounded by his family and the Doans, an impish smile lit young Julius’s face. He decided if that girl sang again, he’d find a way to steal over and pull her hair.

 

 

 

 

 

Friendship Bread

By Amy Jenkins, Wauwatosa, Wisconsin

 

 

My mom dropped off a plastic bag with taupe-colored goop in it and a recipe for “Friendship Bread.” It takes ten days to make this cake-like bread, which is reported to have Amish origins.

Every twelve hours I was to shake the bag and on some days, add something to it. It was imperative, or so said the instructions, that this be done on schedule. By day four, I was muttering about how stupid this was. “No, I can’t sleep late; I have to get up early to shake my friendship bag.” At 7:00 p.m.: “No, we can’t stop for ice cream.”

When we went to the movies, I took my tote bag containing the required ingredients. While Harrison Ford fought a battle on Air Force One, I met my responsibility. At the appropriate time, I poured in a cup of sugar and shook the mixture. As I peeked over my shoulder to be sure that the usher wouldn’t catch me, I wondered what they would do id they did catch me. I imagined being banned from the Capital Theater. Perhaps they’d post a drawing of a mixing bowl with the other ingredients to make four loaves. That’s where I made my critical mistake. I missed the part where I was first supposed to divide the liquid into five bags and just use one bag at a time. Since I had already poured the whole bag of liquid in, I was committed to baking all twenty loaves of bread. What in heaven’s name will I do with twenty loaves of bread? I lamented silently.

In the middle of baking the last batch, I heard the radio announcer report that Habitat for Humanity was starting their housing blitz the next day and was asking for volunteers. I was pleased to learn I could volunteer to sponsor a snack.

The bread was moist, sweet, and topped with a crunchy cinnamon mixture. I sliced up nineteen loaves, spread them attractively on trays, wrapped them in plastic wrap, and took them to the Habitat work site.

Every year since, they have asked me to sponsor a snack. In recent years, I have brought muffins, fruit, and cupcakes. They still ask me to bring that delicious friendship bread, but I don’t have a bag of squishy goop. I have no idea how it starts – someone would have to give me a batch exactly eleven days before the start of the blitz. What’s the chance of that happening – again?

Last July my new neighbor came over as I was baking muffins. She asked me what I was doing. When I explained about the building blitz, she asked me how I got involved in Habitat for Humanity. After the story of my accidental volunteer work, she told me, “The only way that story could be true is if God had planned it. And God must have planned me here as your new neighbor as well,” she said, shaking her head in further amazement as she went on to tell me that she and her mother’s friends pass around the friendship batter every year, and that I should look for a baggie of fermenting goop about the beginning of next July, just in time for the next Habitat building blitz.

e

 

 

 

Roses and Silver Maples

By D.L. Young, Cleveland, Tennessee

 

 

We all lived on the same street in the same neighborhood. Each house was identical. Each had a five-foot silver maple planted in the small patch of lawn between the sidewalk and the street. The country flourished, progressing at an astounding rate. It was the sixties.

I lived in the eighth house on the right from the city end of the street with my mother, Joann, my father, Woody, and my big brother, Lee. Our twelve-hundred-square-foot ranch-style home never had a thing out of place. In our house, you could literally eat off the kitchen floor without worrying about eating dirt. My mom was the best housekeeper in town.

Each day, my dad came home around 6:00 from his job at the car dealership and kissed my mother hello. He was in charge of eight “bump and paint” men. I was proud because, in my seven-year-old eyes, my dad was the boss.

“How was your day, squirt?” he’d ask me, swinging me high in the air.

“Great, daddy,” I’d reply. “Guess what happened today?”

It never made a difference what happened; he always listened. We sat on the front stoop, and he wouldn’t say a thing until I’d finished my rambling. Occasionally I would have to pause for him to wave to a neighbor or to a kid passing by on a bike who’d yell, “Hiya, Woody.”

Two doors down from us on the left lived Greg and Cathy and their four kids, all under eight years old. As a kid myself, I wondered about them because I seldom saw any of the children. If they were in the front yard playing and I waved, they immediately ran into the backyard, out of sight.

“Cathy sure has her hands full with those four kids,” I heard my dad tell my mom.

“Somebody needs to do something about that husband of hers,” my mom replied. I wondered what kind of something she meant. Late one autumn afternoon I found out.

I was skating up and down the driveway in the new skates I had received for a good report card. The sound of Greg’s rattly old Chevy pickup caught my attention. He pulled into their driveway and left the engine running. Soon he reappeared from the house, arms loaded with boxes. Cathy ran after him.

“Greg, please don’t leave. I’ll do better.”

“You’re worthless, woman,” he yelled. “You can’t do one thing right, and you’re the worst mother in the world.” Cathy was crying. She tugged at Greg’s shirt as he passed her.

“Please?” She held on. I stood silent under the silver maple, not believing what I saw. Then she slugged her, and she fell to the ground.

I fumbled across the narrow sidewalk into the safety of the grass and ran to get my dad.

“Daddy, Daddy, come quick! Greg just hit Cathy. They’re fighting!”

By the time my dad got to the front door, Greg was gone, clunking down the street in his beat-up Chevy, never to be seen again.

“Stay here, squirt.”

Cathy hugged her silver maple, tears flowing. My dad pried her away from the tree, and Cathy wrapped around her arms around his neck and sobbed.

“It will be okay.” He patted her back, holding her until she pulled away from him.

My parents’ faces were solemn at the dinner table that night. My brother and I ate our food in silence. We could tell, because my mother’s hand rested on top of my father’s arm, and a warm, loving look waited for his answer.

Daddy stabbed his fork into the air. “I’ve been meaning to hire a secretary. The paperwork is getting to be too much for me to handle.” My mother smiled.

“Rita Dumont, on the next street over, said she wanted to find a job close to home,” Mom added. “Maybe I’ll talk to her about baby-sitting. We can pay her for a couple of months. Cathy will never have to know. Right?” Mother lifted her eyebrows to Lee and me. “Right?” she said again.

“Um, right.” We smiled at her.

The next day I skated again. Practice makes perfect, and I was determined to master the art of staying erect. A white panel van pulled into Cathy’s driveway, and a man got out carrying a big, long package. After he left, Cathy walked toward our house.

“Smell,” she said to me, opening the box. Inside were a dozen white roses, perfectly bloomed and swimmingly fragrant. I had never seen (or smelled) anything so beautiful. Cathy must have felt the same, for a wide smile spread across her face. I wondered if the corners of her mouth would reach her ears. Then she showed me that card. It said, “Keep your chin up! Woody and Joann.”

My heart burst with love and pride for my dad and mom.

Today I am forty-seven years old. My parents are in their eighties, living in that same brick ranch. The silver maples have grown to wondrous heights, and my dad still makes effort to help whomever he can.

The image of Cathy receiving those roses lives in my mind like it was yesterday. And the scent of roses makes me smile with a delicious secret I will always hold dear to my heart.

 

 

 

 

Mr. J.

By Kathryn Howard, Rochester, New York

 

 

“Don’t worry about M. J. Just tell him what you’re doing; then go on to someone else,” the Manhattan nursing home administrator told me, pointing to a gentleman in the corner alone.

“Why can’t I give him a letter?” I asked.

“Well, he’s blind, so why waste it?” she said.

“But these pictures are made of construction paper pasted onto more construction paper. They have texture. Can’t I give him one and tell him what he’s feeling with his fingers?” I was determined not to exclude anyone.

The administrator sighed. “Go ahead, but he won’t talk to you. He hasn’t talked to anyone since September eleventh.”

I walked to Mr. J. and sat down beside him. “Mr. J., I’m Kathryn. I want to give you a picture that was made by a preschooler near Rochester. The kids there have been visiting people like you. They feel like the residents are extra grandmas and grandpas,” I explained. “When they found out about what happened on September eleventh, they were worried about grandmas and grandpas here in the city and wanted to do something. They want you to know they’re thinking about you and you’re in their prayers.

Mr. J. was silent. I took his hand and moved it to the paper in front of him.

“This is a picture of a flower in flowerpot.” I moved his fingers over the flower petals. “The flower is bright purple.” His fingers went to the stem. “The stem is green.” He moved down to the flowerpot. “The flowerpot is orange. And there is a bright blue sky and a golden-yellow sun shinning down on the flower.” Mr. J.’s hand stopped moving.

“This picture was made by Davy, and he’s four. He wrote a message on the back of the picture. It says, ‘I am hoping for you.’”

Mr.J.’s face crumpled. His sightless eyes filled with tears. He hoarsely whispered, “I felt it.”

I didn’t quite understand. “I’m sorry, Mr. J.; you felt what?”

“When they fell. I felt them fall,” he explained softly.

“Oh, Mr. J., I am so sorry.” My tears mixed with his as we cried for the lost souls and hopes and dreams that died on that awful day. Then we talked about being scared and not knowing what to do. He told me about sitting in the TV room, hearing about the plane crashes and finally the fall of the World Trade Center towers.

“I knew before they said it on the TV,” Mr. J. remarked. “I felt the vibrations through the floor. I didn’t know what it was. I never felt anything like it before. I was so scared. How could someone do that to us? Why?”

I had no answer. We sat for a while longer holding hands. Then it was time to go. I hugged him. “Please take care of yourself Mr. J.”

He smiled and patted my hand. “I’ll be fine now, girl, don’t you worry. And give that Davy a big thank-you for me. Wait a minute. I’ll do it myself. I’ll Braille that boy a note and tell him myself. Can I do that? Can you get a letter back to him?”

I laughed. “You bet I can. And won’t you make him happy! You write that note, and I’ll come back and get it from you.”

MR. J. was silent, and I got up. He leaned forward suddenly and spoke again.

“Maybe this is the good that can come out of the evil. Maybe just having folks reach out to one another is the message we’re supposed to get. They can bend us, but they will never break us. I’ll tell Davy that in my note.”

“You do that, Mr. J. And I’ll make sure that everyone else gets the message, too.”

I gathered up my things to leave. The administrator took me aside.

“What on earth did you do to Mr. J.?” she quizzed. “This is the first he’s said anything more than yes or no since September eleventh. What did you say to him?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “It wasn’t me; it was the message Davy sent that helped him to speak. I was just here to make sure Mr. J. got the letter.”

“Then God bless Davy,” she said as she smiled at me.

I smiled back. “Amen.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mercy’s Time

By Julie Saffrin, Excelsior, Minnesota

 

 

She was nearly my mother-in-law. That she is not had nothing to do with her. The two years we knew each other, Doris was easy to know. I was nineteen; she was in her late fifties.

She welcomed my presence into her son’s life and treated me like a daughter in hers. Our mutual love for her son was our commonality and made our bond strong.

Invited to their world, I shared meals and trips to the cabin. A year later a depleted box of tissue accompanied Doris and me on the way home after we left her son at boot camp.

To fend off long winter nights, I visited Doris after work. We had warm talks of possibilities. She, a patient tight-hander, taught me, a left-hander with dreams of marriage, to crochet a bedspread. I even helped her pick out a puppy at the Humane Society; Doris named her Precious.

When the engagement was announced, her gifts of silverware chest and milk-glass butter dish started the hope chest. Though she often said she was a terrible cook, my first recipe of Mexican stew, which I still make, came from her.

When the engagement was broken, so, too, was my friendship with Doris. Awkward and young, I didn’t know how to say good-bye. So I didn’t.

On occasion, in the twenty years since, she would come to mind. As hard as I tried, I could not put her out of my head. I knew I would never forgive myself if something happened to her before I said I was sorry for my rude behavior.

On a Florida vacation, while I read a novel filled with estrangements and reconciliations, she visited my thoughts again. Whether Doris chose to forgive me or not, the inevitable was here. It was time to apologize for the abrupt severing of our friendship.

I knew that Doris’s sister, Elsie, lived in town, although I had no idea where. A long walk with my index finger through the phone directory found her. It took me two weeks to muster the courage to call.

Elsie informed me that the years had been harsh to Doris. She had gone through a divorce, several seizures, brain surgery, and now was in the final stage of emphysema. When I asked if it would be all right to write her, her sister said that it would be fine.

Now that I had permission, I was terrified. I had broken her son’s heart and burst a seemingly perfect dream of togetherness. Surely she must hate me. Certainly no good will come from a simple handwritten apology. I thought.

A sleepless week went by. It was no use. Until I put pen to paper, there would be no peace in my heart.

Lord, give me the words to convey my sorriness was my quiet plea. “Dear Doris, I know it’s been many years since you and I last had contact,” I began. It took until page 3 to get to my reason for writing. “I know when I broke his heart, I broke part of yours. Knowing you like I once did, you probably forgave me years ago, but what good is an apology that no one hears? I’m sorry for the pain and the way I ended it all,” I wrote. I asked for forgiveness; if she found it in her heart to do so, I wanted to hear it.

A week went by, two, before her familiar curly handwriting appeared in my mailbox. The envelope was heavy. My fears resurfaced. I prepared for a severe lecture.

“You can’t know what your letter has done for me,” she wrote. “Came at the right time, too.” Her letter was delightful. She gladly accepted my apology, forgave me, recalled some happy times, and even asked for a recipe. Her words lightened a burden I had carried too long.

As I put the letter back in the envelope, a picture of Precious slipped out. On the back she had written, “Remember when you went with me to pick her out? She died last year. I miss her so.” I thought of that dog. Like the Mexican stew, it made me happy that a part of our togetherness had carried into Doris’s life, too.

God’s merciful timing played a part in Doris and me settling things. Two months later her sister called to tell me the sad news that Doris had passed away. I’m grateful God knew I needed to say good-bye.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Love Thy Neighbor

By Rusty Fischer, Orlando, Florida

 

 

 

When I finally got home from work that night, I wasn’t too surprised to see the door unlocked. My wife had stayed home from work complaining of an upset stomach. I had called home during the day and gotten the answering machine each time. I hadn’t been too concerned, because she had mentioned a trip to the walk-in clinic to see if they could give her something to help.

All that changed when I saw the broom lying in the middle of the floor. My wife was a confirmed neat freak. It was totally unlike her to leave a broom lying in the middle of the floor. Calling out her name, I noticed other things out of the kilter as well. The coffee machine was still on, with strong-smelling black coffee still inside. I switched it off with a shaking head. Her purse was on the kitchen table, her keys nearby.

I called her name loudly, insistently, as I ran through our two – bedroom apartment, stopping at our bathroom. Plastic wrappers littered the floor with strange symbols and fancy medical terminology covering them. Measurements. Liters. Saline. It looked like something out of an ER episode.

Just then a knock sounded at the door. I opened it without hesitation and was shocked to see that it was our upstairs neighbor. “What do you want?” I asked flippantly of the scraggly college girl who caused too much grief. Her revolving boyfriends and their big clomping feet and her loud music and late-night parties were the source of many sleepless nights for my wife and me.

Although my wife was always quick to point out that “we were young once, too,” and how hard it was for a single girl to live alone these days, I knew that some girls were just plain born bad. My wife would frown. “God doesn’t allow His children to be born bad,” she’d say sternly. “He doesn’t do that. Something made her that way. It’s up to us to understand her, help her, and be patient with her. Every one of God’s children has a purpose; so does she.”

All I ever saw was, though, was a noisy brat who kept us up late at night. She was the first person I’d thought of when I saw the broom in the middle of the floor that afternoon. It was the same broom I used to knock on the ceiling at 2:00 a.m. to get her to quiet down!

“Don’t you want to know where your wife is?” she asked incredulously. The plot of a true-crime murder mystery shot through my mind. Had all of my complaints to the apartment complex management finally gotten to this scrawny girl who favored rap CDs with thumping bass? Had she taken my griping personally and hired one of her many questionable boyfriends to kidnap my wife and thus silence my constant complaints? Had my good-hearted and patient wife simply gone up with yet another peace offering in the form of a cake, not to mention a little friendly “witnessing,” one too many times and happened upon a drug bust gone bad?

I almost said, “What have you done with her?” Instead, I simply waited for an explanation.

“I’ll explain while you drive to the hospital,” she said instead. They were the last words I ever expected to hear from her mouth.

“I woke up late,” she said shyly as I drove through town, gritting my teeth at slow drivers and grunting audibly at stoplights that always seemed to see I was coming. “I did some laundry, straightened up, and then turned on the stereo real loud.”

“Big surprise,” I scoffed, hunched over the wheel.

“Well,” she said in defense, “I knew you two yuppies would be at your nine-to-five jobs, so I was very surprised to hear thumping underneath me. I looked out the window, and sure enough, your wife’s car was still in the parking lot.”

“How did you know my wife’s car?” I asked, still slightly suspicious.

“I ran into her one day not long after you’d first moved in,” she explained, pointing out the way to the hospital. “She asked directions to the mailbox and loaned me five dollars,” she added sheepishly as I sighed aloud. “Anyway, I figured she was taking the say off, so I turned down the music. The thumping kept right on going, quiet and all, but I could tell that’s what it was. Finally, I turned the music off altogether, but the thumping just kept right on going. I have to tell you, I got a little peeved. So I stomped downstairs to knock on the door. You know, just to ask your wife what her problem was. I knocked and knocked, but no one answered.

“That freaked me out a little,” she admitted. “I knew she’d been knocking on the ceiling…and now she wasn’t answering? I knew she wasn’t afraid of me, having been up to my place so many times with a pound of cake or plate of cookies. So I walked over to the rental office and asked them to check on her.

“I followed the manager lady in, and thank God we did. She was passed out on the bathroom floor. There was blood everywhere. I just-”

“Blood?” I shouted, screeching into the huge hospital parking lot. “She had a stomachache this morning and – “

“She’d been throwing up all morning,” explained the girl. “Something she ate, I guess. Then, when there was nothing left to throw up, she just kept retching. She ruptured a blood vessel in her throat or something and started bleeding. It looked a lot worse than it was, but they wanted to take her to the hospital to get her rehydrated and take some electrolyte tests.”

The emergency room was crowded, and we sat in silence until a young doctor escorted us back to see my wife. Seeing her in a hospital bed surrounded by IV tubes and beeping machines as they monitored her rehydration and blood pressure tore into my heart just as fear clawed at my stomach.

What if this skinny, noisy rap fan upstairs hadn’t been home? What if she’d simply ignored my wife’s thumping and gone out shopping at the mall for the afternoon? What if my wife hadn’t loaned her those five dollars so that this young girl would remember her car?

What if I’d been as believing and trusting as my wife?

My wife’s eyes flickered in recognition, and a warm smile crossed her pale face. The instinct to run to her and shelter her in my arms was so strong that I nearly leaped across the room. I had not been her protector that day, though. I had been off in my little office with my little job, too caught up in my own troubles to think twice about her “tummy ache” – a problem that no doubt was caused by the questionable all-you-can-eat seafood buffet from the night before.

No, it was our young neighbor who’d been her hero on this day. Despite my protective, loving urges, I stepped aside while at the same time gently prodding the young girl forward. She looked at me hesitantly, and when I nodded, she sprang forward to hug the older “yuppie” woman whom she’d so quickly bonded.

As I watched the two women hug, I realized that I was finally witnessing the very embodiment of faith. And I thanked God for a wife who lived first to do His will – loving her neighbor as herself…in spite of my actions. Where I had always seen a scruffy, scrappy, noisy teenager, my wife had always seen one of God’s children. A human being. A person. Perhaps even a friend. Now I was seeing the results of a friendship, a friendship that in all probability had saved my wife’s life, and it brought tears to my eyes.

 

 

 

 

The Wal-Mart Missionary

By Patty Smith Hall, Hiram, Georgia

 

 

“Young lady, would you like a little Bible?” Bill has become somewhat of a fixture at our local Wal-Mart. For as long as anyone can remember, he has sat on the wooden bench right inside the entrance, handing out paper Bibles for anyone willing to take one.

“Son, this here tells you all about the Lord.”

Time has caught up with Bill over the past few years. Two heart attacks and a stroke can do that to the human body. Curly black hair now has more salt than pepper in it. His gait, though purposeful, has slowed. Pain shadows his expression when he thinks no one is watching. But his eyes, those mirrors to the soul, still glow like fireflies in a mason jar.

“Here you go, sir.”

Over a month’s time, Bill hands out thousands of tracts to folks who slow down enough to accept his kind offer. Others pleasantly refuse, but most simply smirk as they hurry out the door. Bill just shakes his head and turns to the next person. And on the fifteenth of every month, he calls a local bookstore and orders more booklets.

“Ma’am, can I give your little girl a Bible?”

I’m not sure why, but Bill has been on my heart lately. It could be that I’ve noticed the empty bench a lot more lately. Maybe I’ve missed the little song and dance we always do when he tries to give me a booklet. It never fails; he holds out the Book with the sweetest smile on his face.

Grinning back, I remind him that I’m a believer, and I tell him to give it to someone who doesn’t know the Lord. And like clockwork, that’s how things started today. But the Lord is patient with people like me, and as usual, I felt the urge to talk for a while. I started with the question that had been burning in the back of my mind since the first time I saw Bill: “Why?”

I mean, let’s face it. Wal-Mart isn’t exactly the first place that pops into my head when I think “mission field.” My mind goes to Africa or Russia. Someplace far off where the Word of God is oppressed. Even the local battered woman’s shelter seemed a more appropriate place for spreading the gospel than a discount store. But not to Bill.

The wrinkles around his eyes grew deeper as he glanced over at the crowds gathered around the automatic doors. “Patty, these folks live and die right here in Hiram. Some of them will never see the inside of a church. But they’re here buying groceries or something else. So we need to bring God to them.” Bill turned to me, the familiar Book resting in his hand.

Once again, I had put my Lord in a neat little box. Staring at the Book in Bill’s outstretched palm, I took it, a gentle reminder from my heavenly Father that His mission field is not a geographical place – but a human heart.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Forgiveness at Pearl Harbor

By Susan Farr Fahncke, Kaysville, Utah

 

 

 

Last March my husband and I spent our anniversary in Hawaii. One of the sights I was most eager to see was the Pearl Harbor memorial. As we waited for our group’s turn for the tour, Matty and I heard that a survivor of the bombing would speak in the courtyard. We hurried over to listen.

Dr. Joe Morgan, still handsome at seventy-nine, spoke softly but intensely as he described the nightmare attack of the Japanese on Pearl Harbor. Joe had been stationed on the southwestern shore of Ford, Island, right in the center of Pearl Harbor. That Sunday morning he’d pulled duty in Aircraft Utility Squadron Two. At 7:55 a.m., he heard the planes diving. At first Joe assumed they were the usual planes that came before the aircraft carriers.

Then the bombing began.

The nineteen-year-old Texan was confused by the .25-caliber machine gun bullets that rained down around him. He watched fellow sailors fall, hit and bleeding. His confusion turned to horror and fear. He heard an explosion on the runway and looked up. He saw the symbol of the rising sun on the plane and realized the Japanese Imperial Navy was attacking them.

Joe’s first instinct was to hide. But seeing other young men scramble for weapons, he felt ashamed of himself. Running outside to face his attackers, Joe saw an abandoned machine gun and took up his post, shaking in his size-eight shoes.

Filled with a deep fury, Joe fired and shot down Japanese planes. Although Joe was a Christian, he was unable to shake of the hatred he felt for the nation that was so shockingly killing many young American men. The battle finally ended, with 2, 403 Americans killed. The men didn’t know if the Japanese would return so Joe and others stayed at their posts all night. During the night, Joe said a prayer that changed his life. He promised God that if he survived that war, he would become a preacher.

The attack on Pearl Harbor changed Joe’s life. Although he kept his word to God, he never quite overcame his feelings for the Japanese nation. Joe eventually became pastor of the Wailuku Baptist Church in Maui. Two years later, Mitsuo Fuchida came to the island. He had been the commander of the naval air forces that led the attack on Pearl Harbor, beginning with Ford Island, on December 7, 1941. Fifteen years had passed since that attack, but Joe still had mixed feelings. After much turmoil, Joe decided to go and listen to Commander Fuchida. He heard Fuchida tell of becoming a Christian. After Fuchida’s talk, Dr. Joe Morgan introduced himself.

Mitsuo Fuchida bowed and said one word, “Gomenasai.” He said simply, “I am sorry.”

What happened next was as important an American moment as any other in history. Fuchida reached out to shake Joe’s hand. As Joe clasped his former enemy’s hand, he realized that all the anger and animosity toward this man and his country were gone. God had replaced them with forgiveness. Joe Morgan and Mitsuo Fuchida shook hands as brothers in Christ.

Tears filled our eyes as Marty and I listened to this incredible U-turn story of forgiveness. Once the two men were shooting at each other. Now, brothers in Christ, they would fight common foes: hatred and unforgiving hearts-a U-turn that, God willing, will continue for generations to come.

 

 

 

 

 

 

My New York Angel

By Allison Gappa Bottke, Faribault, Minnesota

 

 

Even though I was only fourteen, I was an “old” fourteen. A strong-willed child raised by a single, working mother, I was forced to grow up fast. Plus, full-figured and five feet seven, I always passed for someone years older. And so, when my mother threatened to send me away if I continued to see my eighteen-year- old boyfriend, Jerry,* I took matters into my own hands-and ran away from home.

“There’s no way she’s going to keep us apart,” Jerry said as he handed me the money to buy my airplane ticket and two hundred dollars to tide me over until I found a job. “I made a reservation for you to leave tomorrow. Pack a bag and get out before she gets home. Here’s the phone number of my friends in New York. They’ll put you up for a while. Call them as soon as you land.”

This will show her how serious we are. This is my first plane ride and my first love. The thought of being forbidden to see him was unbearable. The thought of being a fourteen-year-old girl alone in New York City didn’t bother me.

Landing at LaGuardia Airport at eight o’clock on a Saturday night was the beginning of a journey that would change my life. Walking excitedly to the pay phone to call Jerry’s friends, I thought about this luxurious, newfound freedom. I would find a job, and in a few weeks, Jerry would join me. We’d marry and live happily ever after. As the phone rang, I dreamed of married life, of the idyllic way everything would turn out.

“The number you have reached is not a working number…” I jumped at the sound of the recording. I must have dialed wrong, I thought. Trying again, this time more carefully, I began to feel apprehension creep through my body.

“The number you have reached…” It was true. The number was disconnected. I hung up the phone and stood very still.

There was no way I could reach Jerry that night, as he had rented a room without a phone. “Okay,” I said to myself, “this isn’t the end of the world. Find a hotel or a YMCA until you can reach Jerry at work in the morning.”

I forced myself to look on the bright side. I was in New York! The Big Apple! And, since it was 1970, my first thought was of Greenwich Village-the city of peace, love, and flower power! I’d find somewhere in the village where I could stay the night. It mattered little to me that it was getting late and I reeked of “vulnerable underage runaway.”

When I arrived, the Village was aglow in lights, a street festival was under way, and artists lined the corridor. Singers, street dancers, and vendors were everywhere, just like on television. After the taxi, phone calls, subway, and the snack I had at the airport, I still had about one hundred fifty dollars, a lot of money- or so I thought. I stopped at a hotel and was told it was fifty dollars for the night. “How could they?” I gasped. Were hotels really that expensive? Fear began to grip my heart, but I fought it with all my might.

By 11:00 p.m., the street vendors were beginning to close up shop. Artists were packing up, and the warm hum of people hustling and bustling was replaced by another kind of atmosphere. Women in very short dresses appeared. Men with lots of jewelry and fancy cars lined the streets. People passed bottles and strange-smelling cigarettes among themselves. I held tightly to my suitcase and continued to walk, repeating to myself that everything would be fine.

Then I saw her work. Canvas touched by God. Paintings and pencil sketch drawings hung on the fence, the content of which called to me. While I was growing up, Mom often took my siblings and me to the art museum. My heart raced.

“Can I help you?” I looked up to the round, pleasant face of an older woman.

“Did you draw these?” I asked in awe. “I love them! Oh, how I’d love to have talent like that!”

“Everyone has some special talent, my dear. One day you’ll find yours,” she said. “My name is Tanya. What’s yours?”

I can’t recall what we talked about next, but eventually I asked if she knew where I might find a YWCA. At that question, she looked me straight in the eye and without hesitation said, “Please, come home for the evening with my daughter, Claudette, and me.

We have plenty of room. This city is a difficult place to get around in during the daytime and even worse at night. You can get a room tomorrow.

Concerned by the lack of easy alternatives, I accepted her offer. Today I shudder to think what may have happened to me had I not. There is no doubt in my mind, had I remained on the dangerous streets of New York City, that I would have become another runaway statistic. “Then no harm will befall you, no disaster will come near your tent. For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways” (Psalm 91:10-11). The Lord sent my angel. Her name was Tanya Cervone.

The next day I called the warehouse where Jerry worked, only to find out he had been recently fired. Calling my best friend in Cleveland, I learned that the police were looking for me. My fairytale turned into a nightmare. My world was falling apart, but I was determined to hang on. Determined no one would know how frightened I was.

I found a YWCA in the phone book and planned to check in and immediately hit the streets to find a job. Having watched the Macy’s New Years parade every year, I thought I’d start there. I’d go to Macy’s and get a job as a salesclerk. I thanked Tanya for her hospitality and asked for directions. Unbeknownst to me, Tanya had listened in on my frantic phone calls.

“Please stay until you find a job,” she said. “I’m sure you’ll find something in no time, and then you can get a little apartment. Those rooms at the ‘Y’ are so small and dingy.”

I had to admit the comfort of Tanya’s apartment would definitely be better, not to mention safer, and it would allow me to save some money, so I accepted. I put on the only dress I had brought and asked for the directions to Macy’s. On my way, I felt certain everything would be okay, even though a sick feeling developed in the pit of my stomach.

Years later I found out that while I was gone that first day, Tanya went through my things, located my mom’s name and phone number, and contacted her in Ohio. Tanya assured Mom that I was okay and that the police might get me home but wouldn’t be able to keep me there. “She has to go home on her own; otherwise, you’ll only lose her again,” Tanya told my mom. “Trust me; maybe I can reach her.”

During the next few days, I was repeatedly turned down for jobs because I didn’t have acceptable identification. I grew more and more confused and frightened. Finally, reaching Jerry, I was hardly comforted when he called me a crybaby and said that if I really loved him I’d “get it together and get enough money” to help him come out to join me since he had given me all of his available cash. “Do whatever you have to do,” he hissed at me over the phone. “You’re in New York City. Figure something out soon. I’ve gotta get out of here, and you owe me,” he said, hanging up on me.

Unable to stand the fear any longer, I tearfully confided in Tanya. Never before had I shared such intimate feelings with an adult and been so totally accepted. She spoke of what it was like as an artist, what it was like to create these paintings from her mind’s eye. She talked of her life in another country and her own challenges, and she encouraged me to talk about mine. She asked me serious questions, personal questions, and she really listened to my responses. It was as though a dam had burst. We talked for hours. I never knew that kind of communication existed. I went home a few days later of my own free will.

I could have been a thief- or worse – yet she took me in. She gave me the heavenly protection of her heart and home, unconditionally. I never saw Tanya again, yet our Christmas cards and letters were as consistent as the seasons until she passed away a few years ago.

When I learned of her death, I cried first, then smiled at her memory. She reached out and protected a vulnerable, frightened teenager. She exhibited the love of Christ in the truest and purest form.

 

 

*Name changed

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Secret Code

By Sara A. Dubose, Montgomery, Alabama

 

 

“A code?” Bob asked.

“Sure, why not?” Sonny answered. “You ask the questions, and I’ll knock out the answers on the telephone receiver. Look, if it’s yes, I’ll knock three times; and if it’s no, I’ll knock once, like this.”

Sonny Paterson rapped the receiver.

“Roger. I read you loud and clear,” Bob said. “I’ll call you Tuesday afternoon around five o’clock. Now, before we hang up, let’s pray.”

The prayer was short, but as Bob prayed, Sonny tried to commit the next few days to God. The flight from Montgomery to Houston would take no longer than the surgery – about three hours. But coming out of the operating room, Sonny would be minus the voice box, his communication cut to a knock, a nod, or a piece of paper and pencil. Later Sonny might want special laryngeal speech lessons, but for now his one objective was to have the Texas surgeon cut his cancer away.

“Amen,” Bob said.

“Amen,” Sonny replied. “I’ll be waiting to hear from you on Tuesday.”

Sonny Paterson – a prominent businessman and active layman in the church – had only three more days to talk. How could he speak everything on his mind? How could he tell his wife and family how much they meant to him? There would still be communication, but what if he couldn’t learn the tricky speech method the physician described?

Sonny tried to shut off the pessimism. He’d had troubles before, and God had never let him down. At the same time, Sonny knew that a person’s heart can accept something while his mind and body still want to rebel.

Tuesday came. The papers were in order. Blood pressure, temperature, pulse – all checked and found normal. Waiting, saying goodbye, rolling to the operating room on a stretcher. Then nothing until waking up with a dry, hollow feeling of having something missing. Smiles, hand-holding. It was over, the offending cancer removed.

The ring came later. Sonny checked his watch and reached for the phone. It was five o’clock.

“Sonny? Bob Strong. Is it all over?”‘

Knock, knock, knock came the reply.

“Are you in so much pain?”

Knock.

“Sonny, I have one more question. Has God stood with you? Have you felt His grace and presence through all this?”

There was a pause, and then it started. Not once, not three times, but again and again and again and again came the knocking until Bob Strong closed the conversation with another loud “Amen.”

 

 

 

The Neighbors Next Door

by Karen Strand, Lacey, Washington

 

 

It’s Saturday morning. Sunlight falls into my bedroom, drawing my eyes to the soft pastels of my wallpaper, then to the window where I can see the peak of the rooftop next door. The Coles’ rooftop. My thoughts turn to the latest neighborhood news: Kristy has had her baby.

Kristy. Fifteen years old and an unwed mother. Although the Coles have lived next door for several months, I don’t know them. But I have heard that Kristy’s stepdad, Ron, has an eight-year-old son, Chad, from a previous marriage. And that Kristy’s mom, Sue, has a teenage son, Todd, from her first marriage. Next there’s two-year-old Scott, who was born to Ron and Sue. Now Kristy has made Sue a grandmother. Does that make Ron a grandfather? Or is he a step grandparent? Or is there such a thing?

Intrigued by the relationships next door, I envision a time when Kristy is explaining who is whom to baby.

I slowly shake my head in disgust.

My husband wakes up, fluffs his pillow, and asks what we’re having for breakfast. At the same time, I hear eight-year-old Julie bounding downstairs for the morning cartoons. I roll out of bed and head for the shower. After breakfast I load the dishwasher, wipe off the counters, and work on a sewing project I’ve started. Julie taps on the door.

“There’s something I want to show you,” she murmurs. Clearing a space, she lays down a piece of notebook paper folded in half like a greeting card. On the front is a crayoned rainbow. On the inside are large red letters:

 

Dear Kristy,

I’m happy you had a baby. Jessica is a pretty name.

Hmm, I muse. Jessica. So it’s a girl….

Underneath is the drawing of a smiling, toothless baby and the words “God Loves You.” It’s signed, “Love from your next-door neighbor, Julie.”

After my daughter leaves the room, I lean on the sewing table, chin in hand, and think about this. Then I go looking for my daughter.

“Don’t give it to her yet,” I say. “Would you like to get a little gift, too?”

“Yeah, Mom!”

We drive to K-Mart where we buy a silly yellow duck wearing a blue hat. When we return home, Julie wraps the duck and tapes the card on top, and we take it next door. As we wait on the porch, I’m surprised that I never noticed the pretty welcome sign. But then, I’ve made no effort to become acquainted with Sue at all. She has so many family members, while I’ve been married to the same man for over fifteen years. I’m just unable to identify with Sue’s kind of life.

When Sue answers the door – that is, I think it’s Sue – I was embarrassed at having to introduce myself.

“I’m Karen, from next door. This is my daughter, Julie.”

Sue, wearing her dark curly hair in a ponytail and dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt, looks quite normal. She smiles warmly and invites us in to see the baby. Kristy is on the couch, cuddling and kissing her precious bundle. Julie hands Kristy the duck and asks to hold Jessica, while I apologize.

“I’m sorry I haven’t come over to meet you before now. Just busy. You know how it is.”

Sue laughs and offers me a cup of coffee. I look around the room and am surprised at the cozy atmosphere. But what had I expected to see? Purple gremlins poking out of the corners, with a big sign that reads WEIRD FAMILY LIVES HERE? A basket of yellow daisies rests on a side table, and on the wall above it hangs a creatively arranged collection of photos. Pictures of Sue and Ron. Kristy and Todd. Chad. Scott. And I know that a space is reserved for Jessica.

Over coffee and a crescent roll, I learn more about Sue, and our woman talk turns to personal stuff – the kind where you feel so comfortable with someone you can tell her you hide candy bars in the linen closet.

“I never thought divorce would be a part of my life,” Sue says. “We were married for ten years when my husband just up and left. Fell in love at the watercooler.”

Ron, I learn, has been widowed for four years. “Breast cancer,” Sue explains. “It was awfully hard on him.” She gives a deep sigh.

“I don’t know if it was the divorce or what, but Kristy’s been a real handful lately. Now …” She motions to Kristy, who is fussing over the baby.

My throat begins to feel tight and funny, making it hard to swallow. This wasn’t at all what I had imagined. Suddenly, I don’t like myself very much.

When it’s time to leave, Sue and I plan to get together again. Julie skips home across the yard, unaware that her simple, nonjudgmental act has caused a major turnabout in my judgmental heart.

After going inside, curiosity makes me reach for my Bible to look up at verses with “neighbor” in them. I stop at Proverbs 11:12: “A man who lacks judgment derides his neighbor, but: a man of understanding holds his tongue.”

“God Loves You,” Julie had printed at the bottom of the card.

And He does, indeed. Sue. Ron. Kristy. Todd. Chad. Scott. Jessica. Me. People.

I go to the kitchen, get out the large blue bowl, and stir up a batch of chocolate chip cookies. Sometimes it’s never too late to welcome people to the neighborhood.

 

 

 

 

When the World Became One

By Norka Blackman – Richards, Rosedale, New York

 

 

The United States was a long way from Panama City as my husband and I dashed to the airport to return home to New York that day. Before leaving my parent’s house that morning, I saw the airplane crash into one of the World Trade Center towers on television. But we didn’t grasp the impact of what we saw. We were too involved in packing and saying good-bye. My mother dropped us off at the airport and went on to her job of teaching English at a prominent high school.

We checked our luggage while hearing pieces of information:

“Terrorist attack on the United States.” “Airports closed.” “Airplanes used as missiles.” The atmosphere was tense as airport security crowded the lobby. Bomb-squad units and dogs pushed through the nervous crowd. I called my mother. Her voice was agitated. “This pandemonium! Students are crying and parents are crowding into the classrooms and grabbing their children.”

We were assured it was safe to board our flight. I started to pray. “Dear Lord, if it is not your will and our lives will be in any type of danger, let our feet not leave Panama today.” Then airport officials announced: “No one traveling to the United States can leave today. There has been a terrorist attack on the United States, and air space is closed.”

After waiting for hours for our suitcases, we returned to my parent’s home. We watched the reports on TV in horror. Tears filled our eyes when we heard of the death totals.

We contacted a leader in our church. We had been assigned to the New York congregation in March 1999. Many members of our church worked in or near the Twin Towers. We learned that our sound technician, who worked in one of the towers, was missing. We felt powerless. It was disastrous hat as the ministerial couple we could not be there to comfort his family and the congregation. How we longed to minister to our brothers and sisters and pray with them. We needed to get home. We felt that no one in Panama could understand our pain.

Soon we realized how wrong we are. America’s pain had become the world’s pain. These heinous crimes not only had touched one of the world’s superpowers, but also had touched every human in some way. Friends, even strangers, called my parent’s home to check on us and offer words of comfort. Although many of these people had never been to the United States, they felt our pain. Churches in Panama held prayer vigils for our church family and the American people. Memorials were erected throughout the city with roses, teddy bears, white sheets, handkerchiefs, notes, and Panamanian and American flags of all sizes. Schoolchildren and adults left testimony of their solidarity.

The world’s outpouring of sympathy was overwhelming. We cried as we learned of the memorials in diverse parts of the world. The poorest nations and the wealthiest superpowers had become one. The pain of the mothers, fathers, husbands, wives, and children became the pain of the world. The brave rescue workers on Ground Zero became the world’s heroes. The energetic appeal of the U.S. president and Congress for the eradication of terrorism became the world’s aim.

Perhaps more than any other historical event, September 11, 2001, will be remembered as the day the world became one, making a collective turn toward God as we prayed and mourned together.

 

 

 

 

 

TUSLOG Det66

By Jacque E. Day, Chicago, Illinois

 

 

It was at TUSLOG Detachment, “Det” 66, where in 1964 at age nineteen, my father spent his first Christmas away from home. Det 66 housed the Signal Corps, which was in charge of long-range communications. My father, Private First Class Charles Day, worked as a cableman, laying cable from Turkey all the way to Ethiopia.

TUSLOG (The U.S. Logistics Operational Group), they were told, was the first line of defense against a Soviet attack, and instant communication over very long distances was essential to thwarting invasion efforts. And it was there, in the barracks of Det 66, that a little Turkish man of Islamic faith, who shined shoes for a living, gave one hundred lonely American boys a surprise Christmas gift that brought each of them to tears.

They didn’t know him by name, but they came to count on him. Each day he greeted the American soldiers as they came off duty. He sat cross-legged in the entryway of the barracks with his shoe-shine kit, good-natured and relaxed. The American soldiers welcomed the small, inexpensive comfort afforded to them by the little man who shined their regulation shoes each day-two pairs per man per day. He was perhaps forty-five years old, the same age as their fathers, and definitely too old to shine shoes, at least by American standards, but he worked deftly, making his way through two hundred pairs of shoes each night with the speed and skill of a true craftsman. Hours after he started, the little man would finish the last shoe, pack his kit, and head off for the bus stop. For his labors, each paid the little man the U.S. equivalent of twenty-five cents a week.

They liked him. His quiet, polite demeanor relaxed them, and his work made their lives easier. Each night as he made his way through the bunks, the soldiers made attempts to strike up conversation. He knew about as much English as they did Turkish, which wasn’t much on their account, so they communicated mostly through hand gestures. But sometimes some understanding would seep through.

He lived in the capital city of Ankara. He had a wife and five children. He was Islamic. Two of his sons were about the same age as the soldiers, who were anywhere from seventeen to twenty-three. He rode the bus. It was a long ride that sometimes took three hours. Apparently the income he generated at the barracks must have been worth spending six hours a day riding a bus over a bumpy road.

On December 23, 1964, PFC Charles Day made his typical off-duty hike to the mess hall. For Christmas week, the army decided to treat the boys with generosity, which meant more white meat in the creamed turkey, bigger desserts, apple cider, and a few lights strewn around the mess hall. Still, it was less of a comfort and more of a reminder of what they were missing at home. They ate the better than usual meal in solemn silence, all thinking the same thing. Most of them barely out of high school, all still closer to being boys than men, there they sat, two days away from Christmas, eight thousand miles away from home, wearing regulation work gear and eating from metal trays. The feeling wasn’t just sadness or emptiness or loneliness. It was a combination of all those things. They quietly finished their meals and headed for the barracks.

At the barracks, they found their little Turkish shoe-shine man, seated cross-legged as always in the entryway. Next to him sat a decorated tree so small that it stood no higher than he sat. Under the tree were one hundred small wrapped gifts, one for each soldier. Not one man had been forgotten.

This poor, uneducated little man who shined shoes for a living had reached into their hearts and relieved the feelings that silenced them in the mess hall. How did he understand? How did he know? Perhaps as a father, he saw his own sons in each of them. This little man who traveled six hours a day to earn a fraction of their wages, who seemed to have nothing to give, had somehow managed to give them everything. And so these soldiers of TUSLOG Det 66 wept openly as a poor Islamic shoe-shine man, whose name they didn’t know, handed each of them a gift.

In a few weeks, my father was transferred and never returned to TUSLOG Det 66. But he never forgot the man who, perhaps without knowing it, gave a handful of lonely boys the most memorable Christmas of their lives. My father’s five-foot, eight-inch frame towered over the tiny man. But to this day, close to forty years later, he swears that the little Turkish shoe-shine man was a very big man indeed.

 

 

 

 

 

Miracle on Mercer Street

By Carol Genengels, Seabeck, Washington

 

 

It was a balmy summer day with sunshine and gentle breezes. Seagulls screamed and fluttered in the blue skies as our family boarded the ferry bound for Seattle. We joined several church friends aboard the vessel. Everyone was excited about going to Seattle Center’s opera house to see “Miracle on Azusa Street.” A cast from California was presenting the musical as an evangelical outreach.

After the ferry docked, our party walked to a waterfront restaurant. Most of us ordered seafood, but five-year-old Ryan wanted a hamburger and fries. He was too excited to eat more than a few bites.

After lunch we headed for the monorail that would zoom us to Seattle Center. I grasped Ryan’s hand as we trudged up steep hills. His other fist clutched a doggie bag holding the remains of his lunch. We heard a chorus of groans as we approached the monorail terminal. It was closed for repairs. While some opted for taxis, the rest of us decided to catch a city bus.

Our gang spread out as we boarded the crowded motor coach. Ann, Ryan, and I found seats near the front of the bus. Ryan stared at the bedraggled stranger sitting across the aisle from us. He hungrily eyed Ryan’s doggie bag.

“Would you like a hamburger?” Ryan asked the man.

The stranger nodded and mumbled “thanks” as he reached for the bag. His smile revealed missing teeth. Ryan’s blue eyes watched intently as the man wolfed down the burger and fries. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.

 

“What’s your name, little boy?”

“Ryan. What’s yours?”

“The name’s George. Thanks for the burger.”

“You’re welcome,” Ryan said.

George brushed stringy black hair away from his brown eyes. “Where are you all going on this fine day?”

Ryan told him we were on our way to see a play.

“Oh,” he said before proudly announcing, “I am an American Indian.”

“Really!” I said, joining the conversation. “My friend, Ann, has Indian blood, too.”

Ann engaged George in a discussion about their common roots. He gave his full attention, but most of his responses didn’t make much sense.

We reached our destination, and our gang filed off the bus. My husband, Ted, caught up with Ryan and grasped his hand. George got off , too, and fell into step behind us. His clothes reeked of body odor and stale urine.

“So…you’re going to play?” George asked.

“Yes, we are,” Ted said.

“How much does the play cost?”

“Nothing. It’s free!” Ted responded.

“Can anyone go?” George inquired.

“Sure,” Ted answered. “Would you like to come with us?”

George nodded. Ann and I exchanged glances as we joined the throngs of well-dressed people assembled in front of the posh opera house. Massive doors swung open, and we filed in. The splendid lobby impressed many, especially our guest. George stuck close to Ted as we made our way through the crowd. We were ushered down thick carpeting to the front of the theater. Our group settled in the first three rows. George had an aisle seat by Ted. Ryan and I sat on the other side of Ted. Ann settled in front of us.

Since we were early, we had plenty of free time before the play began. Ted did his best to ignore the rank odor as he treated George like an old friend. George began confiding in Ted, educating him about life on the streets. He confessed that he had “a bit of a drinking habit.” George said he’d once been trapped in a fire that left his body covered with scars. He rolled up his shirt-sleeves, revealing some of the disfiguring welts.

Ann turned around from time to time to offer breath mints. Ted thanked her as much as George did.

Before long the huge opera house was packed. We had the best seats in the house. The din of voices quieted as the orchestra began playing and the curtain opened. We were soon carried away to Azusa Street as talented singers and actors portrayed the story.

When it came time for the intermission, George left his seat abruptly. Ted went looking for him but couldn’t find him in the crowded lobby. We were disappointed to think that George would miss the ending.

Shortly before

 

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