Making a Difference

A while ago, I stood in a friend’s front yard and we chatted. My friend wanted to save the world. “It’s a good idea,” I said to her, but my simple affirmation was not enough—she really wanted to save the world—to make a difference in a big way.

“Is that wrong of me—I mean isn’t it rather pretentious?”

I paused as I reflected on her question, and answered, “No—if you seek to save the world for the world’s sake—and not your own.”

She heartily agreed, and I saw in her eyes that she meant it. But she was in despair that sunny morning because circumstances beyond her control prevented her from attaining her desire. Her health might be in serious jeopardy, and she wondered why the Lord would do that—the timing appeared to be off. Hadn’t she prepared herself sufficiently?—studied the right books?—took the right classes? And hadn’t she felt the whisperings of the Holy Spirit telling her that she was on the right track?—doing exactly what she was meant to do? Her eyes filled with tears and her face reflected intense anguish.

“Of course you are on the right track,” I said, “—but maybe the Lord wants you to take a longer route—learn more in order to be the best instrument in his hand when the time comes.”

She agreed, but her eyes said she was not completely convinced.

He wants all of us to take the longer route. We have the opportunity to grow in mortality in ways that no other place under the heavens can offer. With a veil placed over our memory of our former existence in heaven, where else but earth—‘the greatest reality game ever contrived, by the greatest mind that exists’—can we prove ourselves through experience?

God wants us to have the full effect of our trials, and he will stretch them out to their bitter end in order for us to receive the maximum benefit that only enduring and striving to overcome a trial can afford.

Fortunately, our sojourn on earth is short, so why not look at it that way. Eventually, we will all stand before our Maker, and account for our earthly choices, and either be the wiser from them, and blissfully overjoyed to be back in His presence; or miserably cower and grovel at His feet.

My friend sighed, “But I don’t want to be common—I want to be special!”

I looked up and down her street and asked, “Who on your street is common?”

She stared blankly at me, “No one—no one is common.”

“Oh,” I said back to her, “So, how many have saved the world?”

Her eyebrows furrowed, and then she broke into a smile.

I hugged her and whispered, “God doesn’t have any common children, does he?”

Whatever our purpose is, God will lead us to it—and nothing that we are supposed to do is ‘common’ or unimportant. We all make a difference in more than one way … find your purpose …

Unexplained

A little less than 1 ½ years ago, around May 2009, Bill and I were heading west on Brown, when he jumped and pointed forward. He had just seen the tail end of a collision at Brown and Val Vista. We were among the first at the intersection, and were the first in line in the far right lane. The cars involved in the accident came to a stop on the other side of Val Vista—across from us, but in the east bound lanes. Bill hopped out of our car and ran over to help, along with two or three other people. I stayed in the car and watched.

It didn’t seem like a very bad wreck from where I was sitting, and though I was concerned for the young girl behind the wheel, and her friend in the back, I wasn’t too worried. I watched as Bill stuck his head in the driver’s side window to check on her and the other girl, and then I just played the waiting game for him to return to our car. He was over there quite awhile.

Finally, he came back, and I had lots of questions. I wish I had recorded this when it happened, because too much time has elapsed for me to accurately recall all the details, but I think Bill told me that she had lost consciousness, but I’m not sure now. However, the one thing that I do remember clearly, as if it just happened yesterday—was his response when I asked how the girl was in the back seat.

He looked at me strange and said, “There wasn’t anyone in the back seat—there wasn’t anyone else in the car.”

He was adamant about it, but I so was I. I disagreed with him for a short while, but he would not relent, and neither would I.

He was over there—he stuck his head in the car, and he was there for a long while trying to help out, and I was simply sitting across the intersection, observing.

But,I truly had seen both a girl behind the wheel and a girl looking straight ahead from the back seat.

So, who did I see?

I’ve often wondered about that—wondered if she had left her own body—and wondered why I could see her, and not Bill.