My Turning Points – Page 11 – The Turning Points of Life

El Camino Memorial Park – The Babies

On a Saturday morning prior to our Service for the Departed in 1982, Carol, Randy and I went to El Camino Memorial Park in San Diego. We went to visit the grave of one of our church members who had been laid to rest a few days before. We wanted to be sure that the fresh grave site was clean and dignified.

As we walked through the rows of grave sites in search of our church member’s grave, we glanced upon the many grave markers with names and dates. I was particularly taken and drawn to a grave stone of a young girl of seventeen. She had been murdered. I paused and prayed for her and her grieved parents. The deep hurt of her family leaped out of the inscription on the grave stone in the words “MURDERED” and “BARELY SEVENTEEN” and it gripped my soul.

We continued on until we found the grave of our friend. We found it was neatly groomed and still had some fresh flowers on it. After some moments of prayer and contemplation we left to return home.

As we drove through the park toward the exit, Randy saw a pond with ducks swimming around. He begged me to stop and allow him to go to see the ducks. I parked the car at the edge of the road and Randy and I got out.

We walked down the sloping grounds toward the pond. After a while observing the ducks swimming around the pond I told Randy it was time to leave and we began to trudge up the hill toward the car.

As we walked I looked down and noted that the grave stones had but one solitary date. I thought how unusual that was and realized that these were all very young children, infants most of them. I stopped in my tracks as the impact of this realization touched my soul. I stood transfixed as I took in the environment around me.

There in the midst of these graves were two pine trees with low hanging boughs. Dangling in the branches were toy cars and trucks, dolls and trinkets. I paused to consider this picture and realized that these toys were attempts of sorely grieving parents seeking to reach out to their child with a gift, a sign of their love for them not stilled by their death. I had this profound feeling in that instant; that what an amazing gift God gave us in prayer. We can pray for our departed loved ones, and thereby show our love for them in the spiritual and need not rely on the material.

Years later, I revisited this Garden of Innocents and found that the trees had been removed or trimmed and the toys and trinkets removed. Surveying the scene, now different from my first visit, in my heart I hoped that the parents of the babies memorialized there have since discovered that their prayers convey their undying love as no toy or trinket could ever do.

Turning Points

The first brief moment in the garden for innocent babies served to significantly deepen my appreciation for the awesome power of prayer. Faced with helpless and hopeless feelings that surface when we are unable to help someone, the power of prayer and the knowledge that prayer changes things, situations and me, becomes a turning point, revealing this God given resource known as prayer. It can be an inspiration to practice and master prayer, pouring out our deepest emotions to the One who hears and answers and changes things for our benefit.

The Cell Phone at Church

The advent of the 2000 millennium ushered in an age of electronic devices that have become ubiquitous and a constant presence in every venue of our lives. Cell phones became “smart” and provided an amazing plethora of connectivity at the touch of a finger. These devices have come to be virtually indispensable in the minds of everyone and particularly the teenage crowd. This reality played an interesting part of an otherwise typical Sunday morning at our church.

I made my normal early morning preparations to minister the Sunday sermon at our church in El Cajon, California. Everything that day was typical for a Sunday morning as I drove to church for the morning service. It remained typical until I was a few minutes into the sermon. It was then that I noticed a teenager in the congregation leaning over intently. At second glance, I noticed he was franticly entering information into his cell phone. My initial thought was that the sermon was possibly boring to him, but then thought otherwise. The notion that maybe he was taking notes of the sermon flashed into my mind.

After the service the lad stopped to greet me. I asked him to show me his phone which he proudly did as it was new and had all the latest features. I mentioned that I noticed him taking notes during the sermon. I asked if he would kindly share them with me. I suggested he could e-mail them after he downloaded them at home.

He immediately bowed his head and, looking at his shoes, shamefully confessed that he was playing a game on his new phone with the sound muted. Noting his obvious sense of shame, I simply said, “Oh,” and changed the subject. I inquired as to how he was doing at school. We had a pleasant chat and parted with a smile a firm hand shake.

The following Sunday I again noted the same behavior from this young man. This time for some reason I did not get to greet him after service before he left with his family.

But, when I got home and checked my e-mails, I found one from him. Attached to his email was a lengthy epistle of the morning’s sermon. I was astounded as I read it. The caliber of its content, its thoroughness and completeness was quite impressive. The words revealed a detailed and thoughtful assimilation of the spirit of the sermon. I was deeply moved by how well he was able to grasp even the subtleties of the sermon’s content as well as his perspective on its application to his life.

I wrote him a glowing thank you e-mail and praised him for his willingness to share his notes with me. I noted how impressed I was at the thoughtful perspective he had and his ability to assimilate the sermon.

Turning Point

I am grateful that my first negative impression was quickly supplanted by a positive one. This simple and instant about face positioned me to guide our ensuing conversation to turn a negative to a positive result. It is amazing how catching someone doing something right and acknowledging it can prove to be a positive influence on someone. It is much more enjoyable to praise than to critique. (Refer to “simple Words -Powerful Turning Points” post)

Turning point lesson: look for the positive to turn a negative to your advantage.

I Want You To Manage This Project

In the winter of 1965-66 I was assigned to support the final stages of the installation of coal-fired power plant project at the Orange and Rockland Utilities on the banks of the Hudson River. I worked under the guidance of Pete, the senior service engineer heading up the project for Foster Wheeler. I experienced on this assignment numerous turning points. (Refer to “It doesn’t Work – Fix It” post)
One cold, raw and blistery winter weekend a series of tragic events took place. The consequences of what happened that weekend were revealed on Monday morning.
Our team of service engineers had arrived at the company trailer office and we began sharing our weekend exploits over our morning coffee. Suddenly the office door opened and in walked Bill, the senior vice president. He was a very personable man with a smile that put you at ease and a demeanor that garnered great respect.

William “Bill” D. Stevens

We all knew something was very wrong that morning just by the look on his face. Bill explained that Pete had suffered the loss of his wife and father over the weekend. Both had died unexpectedly. The shock of this sad news hit all of us very hard. Pete was loved and respected by all of us not only as our leader but because he was such a great person and teacher.

As the initial shock subsided, Bill told us that Pete would not be coming back to the job. Pete had requested an assignment in Japan where he had previously worked for the company some years before.

Bill asked each of us what we were working on and after our report asked each of the team to carry on except for me. He asked me to show him around the plant.

Bill and I left the trailer and headed toward the plant. Once we were out of sight of the rest of the team, Bill stopped and said to me, “Allan, I don’t need a tour, I designed this boiler. I wanted to get you alone because I want you to manage this project.”

I responded, “Do you realize, sir, that I am still on my training program and all of the others have seniority on me?”

He said, “You may be on our training program, but when you woke up this morning, you were a senior service engineer. And you have a retroactive pay raise accordingly. I want you to manage this project because I trust you.”

I told him I accepted and promised to do my best. Bill told me that if any of the team members gave me a hard time, I should let him know and he would support me.

Over the next weeks I enjoyed the full support of the rest of the team save for one. He resisted my promotion and leadership. I did my best to win over his support, but he dug his feet in and attempted to sabotage my work. I felt the need to respond as Bill had asked and the rebel was reassigned.

The project progressed, reached a state of completion and was turned over to the utility to operate. The other team members went on to other projects and I remained alone to finish up the final project details.

However, big trouble lurked around the corner.

The utility management unfortunately made some operational decisions that were inconsistent with our procedures. The result was one of the eight coal burners became non-operational. In spite of having one less burner they continued to operate the plant at over 100% capacity. This caused a condition inside the boiler that put the integrity of the boiler at risk. Noting this situation I verbally notified the utility management that they needed to decrease the plant operation to 90% capacity or less or there would be costly consequences. This verbal request was not heeded.

I went to the trailer office and typed a letter to the utility management. There were no copy machines at that time so I had to make carbon copies. I made copies for Bill, the manager of our service department, a file copy for the project file and a copy for my personal file. At the bottom of the letter, I made a place for the utility manager to sign his acknowledgement and one for me to witness it.

The original and copies in hand, I marched to the utility manager’s office and presented them to him. I asked him to sign them as his acknowledgement.
In the letter, I explained in detail what was happening in the boiler as it was operating at elevated capacity with only seven of eight burners. I warned that this condition would create slag accumulation on the boiler tubes. The rate of accumulation would be such that after three to four days the slag would bridge the boiler’s base and automatically shut down the boiler. The resulting repairs would take six to eight weeks of round the clock effort and the boiler and plant would be idled for that duration. I stated that continued operation passed the next 24 hours would absolve our company of any responsibility for the consequences suffered by the utility during the resultant outage.

The manager willingly signed the letter and copies. I signed the original and each copy as witness to his signature. I left him with the original and proceeded to mail copies to the office and filed the file copies.

That detail done, I waited, staying on the jobsite round the clock. I felt that I needed to be there at the moment my predictions came to fruition. In anticipation of this, I had packed a suitcase with the necessities for staying overnight in our trailer office for a few days.

The utility management decided to ignore my letter and continued to operate the boiler at the elevated rate. I documented the status each day in a report. It took a week and half for my prediction to become reality.

The boiler shut down when the slag bridged over the base of the boiler. Now the recovery work began.

Six weeks of round the clock work was required to finally bring the boiler back on line. It required a careful management of personnel from numerous trades. The laborers were all union workers so there were political sensitivities that had to be considered. Each shift had to be designed so no shift got more prime rate hours than another. Laborers were making a lot of money and they were paid in cash weekly. It was a very challenging management venture but it all worked without incident. The slag was removed, a new burner was installed to replace the damaged one and the whole system was re-tested prior to release back to the utility.

The project was completed and I returned to the office to write and file the final report.

Some six months later, I was working as an engineer in the nuclear department. (Refer to “What Do You Want To Do in This Company?” post) One day, the corporate attorney appeared in my office. He asked me if I still had a copy of that signed letter that I had delivered to the manager at Orange & Rockland Utilities. I opened my desk file drawer and retrieved my file folder for the utility.

Paging through a few sheets I said, “Do you mean this one?”

He took a good look at the letter, quickly perused it and said, “Yes this is it. You just saved the company from a multi-million dollar lawsuit. Thank you!”

Turning Point

The promotion to manage the project under very stressful conditions and the successful resolution of all the issues, gave me confidence in my abilities to manage not only situations but personnel as well. This experience gave me confidence when the future brought other diverse and very challenging situations. Following this experience, another turning point followed in its footsteps. (Refer again to “What Do You Want To Do in This Company?” post)

I acknowledge God’s hand in these intricate series of events that ultimately opened the door for me to move to San Diego.

Simple Words – Powerful Turning Points

I discovered that simple words or phrases contained wisdom that, when brought to mind at just the right time, had the potential to become a significant turning point. The more I came to realize this, the more sensitive I became to these words and phrases. I began to collect them and use them when opportunity arose to inspire others.

If you believe . . .

One of the earliest of these phrases was famously attributed to Henry Ford. He is purported to have said, “If you believe you can, or you believe you can’t, you are right.”

I pondered the truth of this statement and added my own corollary: “If you believe you can, you will; but if you believe you can’t, you won’t.”

The experience I have often shared regarding an application of this axiom occurred when I worked in a hi-tech company in San Diego in the late 1970’s. I was manager of the engineering and manufacturing departments and my team of professionals were typically assigned to support nuclear physicists with the projects they managed. One such project was scheduled to be shipped out on a Monday morning.

On the prior Friday afternoon, Joe, the project’s physicist came to me and said, “We just broke our last optical encoder on the machine and we will not be able to ship on Monday. You will have to cancel the shipment.”

I had put forth a significant effort preparing for the shipment. It required organizing a crew of heavy machine movers and orchestrating trucking and manpower. I was not about to give up the plan so quickly. I insisted that Joe join me in the shop to assess the situation.

We went out to the machine on the shop floor to assess the situation. I looked over the inspection machine and noticed the broken encoder. It was a laboratory version, obvious to me the reason for its failure. I explained to Joe that he should have installed a ruggedized industrial version encoder to survive the rigors of a machine like this one. I asked Joe to get the catalog from the encoder supplier and join me in my office.

When he arrived, I opened the catalog and searched it for the appropriate ruggedized encoder needed for the project. Further review of the catalog revealed a picture of the company president on the inside cover. I picked up my phone and called information in Cleveland, Ohio where the company was headquartered. The Information Operator provided his phone number and I made the call.

The president’s wife answered and gave her name. I introduced myself and apologized for interrupting what must have been their dinner as it was 6:00 pm in Cleveland. She said her husband was on a business trip and was expected home any minute. I was about to ask her to have him call me, when she said, “Wait, he just came into the garage, can you hold?”

When the man came on the phone, I quickly explained our dilemma and gave him the part number of the ruggedized encoder we needed. I then asked him the really critical question, “Can you ship it so it gets here in San Diego tomorrow?”

He replied, “Yes, I can have my night foreman pack it up and get it to the airport for the 7:00 am flight to San Diego. It should arrive around 2:00 pm. Will that work for you?”

I responded in the affirmative, thanked him profusely and hung up the phone.

I looked at Joe who sat across the desk from me with a bewildered look in his eyes.

I said, “Joe, go get your team and inform them to arrive here at 2:00 pm tomorrow afternoon ready to install that new encoder and test the machine for as long as necessary. It is going to ship on schedule on Monday!”

Joe, astonished, said to me, “How did you do that?”

I simply said, “I believed I could, so I did. You didn’t believe you could, so you were ready to give up.”

The “I”-CAN . . .

I attended a marketing and sales seminar one day. The facilitator was introduced and came out onto the stage with a small silver can in his hand. As he began to talk, he kept tossing the can from one hand to another. Then he threw it up in the air and caught it. After a few minutes of this “can” gymnastics, he revealed to us the significance of the can.

He explained that each morning when he awakes, he grabs his can from the bedside night table and carries it through his morning rituals. For him, it is his reminder that success comes in a “can” not in a “can’t”.

He urged all of us to buy a small can of tomato paste on our way home. Then take the label off and clean off the past residue. With a permanent magic marker, inscribe and large capital “I” on the top.

He said, “When you go to bed tonight, place it on your night table. When you awake in the morning, take the can with you wherever you go. When you look at it, be reminded that: success come in a can”, not in a “can’t””

When I was serving as a confirmation teacher for three young church members, we were studying the Ten Commandments and principles that Jesus taught in the Gospel and the expectations God has for us. One of the students shook his head and said, “Wow, that’s really hard to do!”

My response was puzzling to the class. I gave them instructions to bring a small can of tomato paste to the next class.

The next class began with questions as to the purpose of the cans. We all took our tomato paste cans and I had them remove the paper label. Then I handed each of them a permanent magic marker.

Following my instructions they printed a large capital “I” on the top of their silver can.

I explained, “I want you to take this can home and put it on your night table. When you awake in the morning, take the can with you wherever you go. When you look at it, be reminded that: Success comes in a “can”, not in a “can’t”.”

As I was giving this instruction a further enhancing thought came to mind. I told the class that the dismay they expressed in the previous class at the difficulty they felt in living the life Christ hoped they would, inspired me to offer the “I-CAN” solution.

I said, “But if you don’t think that’s sufficient for you, turn the can over.”

I instructed them, “Take your magic marker and print on the bottom of the can “He”.

Now when you look at that can, if you still have doubts, turn it over and realize that if you can’t, God can!”

Try to Catch Someone . . .

I was reading Ken Blanchard’s book “The One Minute Manager” when I came upon the page that read, “Help People Reach Their Full Potential. Catch Them Doing Something Right.” This was for me one of those “Ah-Ha” moments.

It struck me that most people had an eye for catching people doing something wrong so they could be corrected. This was a new perspective for me. While it was fresh in my mind an unexpected incident occurred during one evening at the dinner table.

My thirteen year old son Randy announced, “You will have to make other plans for Friday evening.”

“Why is that?” I inquired.

“Doug got expelled from school today and his parents grounded him for a week,” was Randy’s answer.

Typically on Friday evenings we took Randy to the local gym club where he met his friend Doug to play racquetball. Afterward they walked a few blocks to Doug’s house for a sleep over. Carol and I would do something together for an evening out at a restaurant or visit with friends.

Shocked at Randy’s answer I inquired as to the reason behind Doug’s expulsion from school. Doug was one of the nicest kids we knew. He was a real gentleman. How could this have happened I wondered?

Randy explained, “Doug got caught throwing fireworks into the boys’ rest room at school.”

I immediately jumped out of my chair, leaned over and gave Randy a big hug and said, “Randy! I am so proud of you! You did so well!”

Puzzled at my outburst, Randy said, “Dad, what do you mean? What did I do?”

I said, “Randy, don’t you see? If Doug had access to fireworks, and gave into peer pressure to do such a foolish deed, so did you. But you chose to resist peer pressure. You thought it through and decided it was a foolish thing to do and it would get you into trouble. You took the high road and made a wise decision. That thrills me and makes me so proud of you.”

I found that Randy’s appreciation for his personal strength of character and his ability to make wise decisions was enhanced by this turning point moment.

Turning Points

Believing in yourself, believing you can, such belief (enhanced by trust in God) can turn many situations from failure to success, victim to victor.

Finding clever but effective reminders to appreciate what you can do with your gifts and talents can make the difference between success and failure. To appreciate the presence of God in your life and trust in His support to achieve your honorable goals can enhance your perseverance when facing obstacles along the way.

Catching someone doing something right and praising them in fine detail can change someone’s perspective and help them find the belief in themselves necessary for their own personal success in life.

Powerful turning points are indeed hatched in simple words.

God Taught Him

In the early 1980’s we opened a congregation of our church in Linda Vista, a community in San Diego, California. It was comprised largely of Southeast Asian refugees from the Hmong tribes of Laos and Vietnam. These souls became members of our small mission church in Mira Mesa that met in a pre-school. With over 200 refugees attending services in our little mission, moving to larger quarters was mandatory. The presence of our Asian members presented a rare opportunity to not only teach them the Gospel of Jesus Christ, but also to help them assimilate into the American way of life.

One family of the Cha family clan had four girls but no boys. For a Hmong family this was not desirable because girls left the family when they were married. The boys on the other hand remained and provided a source of support when the parents became aged. When Mrs. Cha gave birth to her fifth child, it was a boy. The event prompted a great celebration. As their minister, I visited the family to share in their joy of the birth of their first boy.

During my visit and through interpretation by her eldest daughter, Mrs. Cha explained to me that since her new baby was a boy, she would no longer be able to attend church services for a long time. I learned as our conversation continued that Mrs. Cha felt that with her girls she had control over their behavior. Hence, the girls were quiet in church during the sermon. Now with a boy, she felt such control was not even possible. Boys were much more unruly and noisy and so she wouldn’t be able to bring him to church until he learned to listen to her.

I carefully explained that it was important for her to bring her baby boy to church where God would bless him and teach him. But Mrs. Cha answered saying that her baby didn’t understand Hmong or English so how would God be able to teach him?

I explained that God would teach her little boy not through language but by His Holy Spirit. This seemed to make sense to her and Mrs. Cha accepted it in faith. She agreed to take her son to church.

Over the next nine to ten months Ms. Cha, her children and husband faithfully attended services in our church. Her boy grew strong and before he was a year old he was walking. As with most little boys he was very active but tended to stay quiet during services.

On one Sunday morning when this little boy was about eleven months old, our Bishop from Los Angeles visited San Diego and the members from our six congregations in the area came together at one of our larger churches.

The church family packed chapel with not an empty seat to be found. In fact, a row of folding chairs were lined along the back wall of the church to accommodate the large crowd.

The organist began to play and the congregation stood to sing the opening hymn. I followed the bishop and other ministers and walked up the center aisle to take our places at the front of the church. After a short personal prayer, I opened my hymn book and began to sing along with the congregation. As I sang I surveyed the crowded church. To my great concern, I saw that Mrs. Cha, her four girls and her little boy, were seated in the second row of pews. I instantly began to worry that the little boy would soon be acting up and become a distraction during the sermon.

For most of the sermon, to my great relief, the little boy was well behaved, sitting on his mother’s lap. But then my greatest fear became a reality. The lad stood up in his mother’s lap and began to jump up and down. I watched as Mrs. Cha struggled to quiet her boy but to no avail. Suddenly she reached into her pocket and extracted a 25 cent coin and gave it to her boy. I surmised that she did this in hopes that his fascination with it would cause him to sit down in her lap and quietly play with it.

The boy, his eyes open wide, stared intently at the coin. His mind seemed to be momentarily transfixed on this unexpected treasure. Quickly, coin in hand and broadly smiling, he wriggled off his mother’s lap in pursuit of his own personal mission. To my surprise and well as his mother’s, he weaseled his way past his sisters till he reached the center aisle. A momentary glance between Mrs. Cha and me revealed her dismay couched in a weak smile.

Once into the aisle, the little guy made a beeline down the aisle and abruptly stopped at the offering box that sat upon a pedestal at the last pew. As I observed his journey, I secretly hoped that his father, sitting on one of the folding chairs along the back wall, would see his son and scoop him up and take him on his lap.

The boy stood before the offering box for a brief moment. Then he turned and reached as high as he could to put the coin into the slot on top of the offering box. The whole church heard the loud clangs created by his tapping the coin on the side of the offering box as high up as his reach allowed. He was simply too short to reach the slot in the top of the box.

Now his father jumped into action. He rose from his chair, quickly ran to his son and lifted him by his legs high enough to allow him to reach the slot and drop the coin into it. When his father put the boy down and before he could react further, the lad twisted out of his father’s grasp and raced back up the aisle, wriggling past his sisters and into his mother’s lap. There he sat, a big grin on his face, his pride over his accomplishment beaming from his face.

After the service was over, I spoke with Mrs. Cha and asked her, “Who taught your son to offer that coin?”

She replied, “I wasn’t me, because he does not understand Hmong. It wasn’t you, because he doesn’t understand English. It was God, just like you said, God would teach him by His Spirit!”

Turning Points

The acts of God in our life have profound implication in the lives of those He chooses us to serve. He subtly puts words in our mouth that become turning points in our understanding of His ways and in the lives of others. These turning points change not only the course of our lives, but also the understanding and faith we have for God. I find that faith and trust in Him are deepened and a grateful heart and mind are created. This experience with Mrs. Cha and her baby boy illustrated how the Word of God can have a powerful impact on the life of even a mere child. Further, I see how the faith of a mother can produce a lasting blessing on her children. We can’t underestimate what God can and will do for those who love Him.

What Do You Want To Do In This Company?

It was early 1966 and I was fresh off my field service assignment at Orange and Rockland Utilities in upstate New York. I was now assigned to a desk in the Service Department at Foster Wheeler’s corporate headquarters in Livingston, New Jersey. I approached the official end of my nine month training program working on some mundane tasks consisting of filing final reports from my previous work assignment.

I wondered what I would be doing in the company after the official training program came to its conclusion. Mr. Bill Stevens had elevated me to Senior Service Engineer status a few months before while I was at Orange and Rockland Utilities, but I did not know what that would mean now that I was back in the office.

I availed myself of this time in the office to talk to some of the service engineers I had come to know during my travels. I queried them about the work areas they moved to after their time in the Service Department ended to see if anything they were doing interested me.

William “Bill” Stevens

Suddenly, one day without warning Mr. Stevens, the senior vice president, walked into my office.

He said, “Hi Allan, please come with me.”

I left following Bill toward the main corridor. My feelings were a mixture of fear and concern. I had no idea what he wanted and wondered if I had somehow made some serious mistake.

Walking together down the corridor together, Bill suddenly stopped, turned to me and said, “Allan, you are too valuable to this company to be working where you are now, what do you want to do in this company?”

I stood there for what seemed to me to be minutes, not knowing what to say with no preparation or expectation for this moment.

I blurted out, “I’m not sure, but if I were your son where would you want me to be?”

Surprised at my answer and wondering from whence it came, I looked up and heard him say, “Come with me. The Nuclear Department is the future of this company. That’s where I want you to be.”

We continued down the corridor and into the Nuclear Department manager’s office.

Bill announced, “Jack, meet Allan, your new engineer.”

Bill turned and left. I stood there facing Jack. Later I discovered Jack was just as surprised as me. Jack appeared to be somewhat stunned, but quickly collected himself, shook my hand and bid me to follow him to my new office.

Jack introduced me around to the other engineers and secretaries in the department. I retrieved my files and other belongings from the Service Department, bid my friends there adieu and settled in my new office.

A week or so later, Jack took me to lunch. As we sat at our table he asked, “Do you know how you got this job in my department?”

I said, “Not really, I just was asked by Bill what I wanted to do and he brought me to your office.”

“Well,” Jack replied, “You got shoved down my throat! And I am glad you did! I interviewed numerous engineers these last weeks for the opening and rejected them all. I am thankful you are on our team.”

My career took off in this department resulting in gaining a patent on a unique sodium heated steam generator along with our team members.

Eventually I earned an MBA in management that led to my assignment in San Diego, California in mid-1970.

Turning Point

Those few seconds of dialogue that featured my spontaneous response, “If I were you son where would you want me to be?” was a major turning point for me. I can’t take credit for that statement, as it came out of me without thought or preparation. I can only acknowledge God’s hand, word and inspiration that put those words in my mouth and gave the impulse to speak it.

My Art Teacher’s Lesson

Great turning points in my life occurred during my four years in high school. There I was blessed with some extraordinary teachers. I planned to attend college after my high school graduation to earn a degree in engineering. Consequently, I enrolled in what was termed “College Preparatory Course”. This curriculum required a heavy dose of science and mathematics classes and intense English classes. I shared this curriculum of courses with other students headed to college. When I entered college, I found that I had received an education equal to or better than my fellow college students who attended expensive prep schools.

The intense nature of the College Prep curriculum left little room for anything else, specifically interesting elective courses. However, I was somehow able to sneak in a year of art with Ms. Marie Sauer. From my earliest years, I loved art. I made all the Disney characters in colored construction paper and hung them from a wire coat hanger creating a mobile. Colored construction paper became the medium for creating my book report covers. I also sculpted characters from the movies, specifically horror movies like Frankenstein and Dracula. My passion for art since childhood motivated me to seize a place in Ms. Marie Sauer’s art class when as an elective it became available to me.

Ms. Sauer’s encouraging words to me as my art projects were being created were just one of the many attributes of her teaching style. I especially appreciated her positive way of helping me overcome my fear of tackling a project I deemed beyond my talent and capability.

A case in point was my reticence at tackling a drawing project in the medium of charcoal. In her classroom was a sculpture of the bust of Abraham Lincoln. Lincoln was a hero of mine, so I wanted to somehow produce a piece of artwork using that sculpture. Ms. Sauer’s challenge to me was to shine a light on the bust from a certain angle, then draw the resulting image in charcoal. My initial reluctance to use charcoal for this project was overcome with the urging and encouragement of Ms. Sauer’s convincing counsel. The result was to hang in my library to this day.

Abraham Lincoln Bust in Charcoal (1958)

After I graduated from college, I was on an assignment in Las Vegas, Nevada that required daily trips into the desert. On the way to my work destination I saw signs for a Nevada State Park called the Valley of Fire. On one of the few days I had off of work, I journeyed through this amazing natural wonder. The colors of the natural creation gave credence to the name for it surely seemed to be ablaze with fire.

Valley of Fire – Nevada State Park

This experience planted a seed in me, a certain image burned into my memory. That seed came to life when I enrolled in graduate school some months later. Each night when I came home late after classes, I was too wound up to get to sleep. I needed something to help me to relax. My solution was to make an oil painting of the image that the Valley of Fire inspired in me months before.
I purchased a canvas and mounted it on a wooden frame. Thus began what would be a project that spanned more than two years.

I started the project by sketching the image I had in my mind onto the canvas. I imaged a bush on fire as I walked through the Valley of Fire State Park that day in the summer of 1965. Now, I worked to put this image onto the canvas. I purchased oil paints in the colors I knew I needed to achieve the color effects the painting required.

My concept for the painting was to create an image comprised of triangles. Each triangle would be painted a solid color. No two triangles of the same color were to touch each other save for at a point of an adjoining triangle. There would be three basic elements of the painting. The first was the ground on which the bush was growing. The second was the bush itself. The third was the fire and its resultant glow as it encompassed the bush. I hoped to produce in the mind of the viewer of the final piece a sense of a bush growing on a hill ablaze with a fire whose essence was exploding outward like the sun. I also used the shapes of the triangles to combine with the colors to give the visual effect I tried to achieve. Larger and bolder triangles were used for the ground and narrow triangles were used for the roots and branches of the bush. The fire triangles were also elongated to give the bursting effect I wanted to portray.

With this in mind I began by painting the ground, a “ground-up” sort of plan, probably based on my engineering thinking. This project soon became a greater challenge than I first imagined. Abiding by the rules I established, I had to create forty seven different shades of brown to join the color black. What made this particularly difficult was the fact that I needed to reserve lighter shades of brown for the branches and roots of the bush and the varied shades of brown the bush would required.

Each night I set to work a new shade of brown was mixed on my pallet until the ground was completed. Once the ground was completed I began to work on the bush. This required a variety of lighter shades of brown to distinguish it from the ground and produce the effect I needed to enable the viewer to see the bush, its branches and roots.

When the bush was completed, I tackled the bursting effect of the fire encompassing the bush. I accomplished this effect by blending the colors of the triangles from bright yellows nearest the bush to dark reds at the periphery of the painting. The shpe of the triangles enhanced this effect.

All this painting of triangles necessitated painting most of it with a paint brush with only a few hairs. This was required to paint the sharp points of the triangles. Again, the challenge with this area of the painting was to create a large number of shades of yellows, oranges and reds to achieve the effect desired without violating the established rules.

The painting was created over the two and half years of my MBA graduate studies. Each night upon returning home from classes, except for the months I was courting my wife, I spent an hour or so painting three to five triangles at a time. I created a shade of a particular color, then with that color triangles were added to the canvas. It was a long and tedious project but it gave me peace and prepared me for a good night of rest.

I have called the resulting oil painting my masterpiece. It is the image of Moses’ Burning Bush from the Bible. I often told visitors to our home gazing at my painting to “take off your shoes as you are standing on hallowed ground” inspiring them to say, “Ah! It’s Moses’ burning bush!”

The Burning Bush of Moses (1967-1970)

After my master piece was completed I continued to exercise my passion and joy for art. I have explored a number of various forms, working with hook rug art, photography, and wood work. But what I found to be most interesting was the way God used my passion and interest in art as a means to open opportunities for me to be a blessing for someone I met along my path of life.

Turning Points

Ms. Sauer challenged me to explore my limits and develop my talents in the arts. That was a turning point for me. It was not only relative to my art and creativity self-esteem, it also applied in my life generally. We all have God-given talents. Each of these talents have a purpose that may be hidden from our realization for years only to be resurrected at just the right time to allow us to employ them to be a blessing for someone.

The consequence of this turning point relative to my art talents was my personal joy in expressing these talents through art in many forms. Whether we see the beauty of art in the Creation and its wonders or in the art created via the talents of others, appreciating art in all its varied forms adds immeasurably to our lives.

The Bird’s Funeral

As our son Randy was growing up, we taught him to pray at meal times. I would pray and then he would pray. We prayed not only offering thanksgiving for the food but also asking for a blessing upon it followed by a plea for those we knew who faced some difficult situations. On Sundays and Wednesday evenings Randy accompanied us to church where I served as a lay minister. He witnessed me serving and experienced our family serving others. When visitors came to our church services, we had them come to our home for a meal and conversation. So this story about Randy was not a real surprise to us considering his being raised in a home where a culture of serving others existed.

An only child, Randy found it necessary to make friends with all the children in the neighborhood. He mastered the art of building friendships evidenced by the respect his friends showed him. They saw Randy was their leader. Often when we came home from a brief trip, a half a dozen or more youngsters were sitting on the curb in front of our house waiting for Randy to return. He was the one to lead them on their daily adventures. He was very successful at it because they all kept coming back for more.

One Saturday morning I went out into our backyard prior to our planned shopping trip. I discovered a dead bird lying on the patio floor just below our large picture window. The bird had apparently flown into the window and broke its neck. Not wanting to delay our departure, I didn’t mention my discovery to Randy until we got home.
Returning later that morning from our shopping, I parked our car into the driveway. When we exited the car we were greeted with a united chorus from the assembled crowd of children at the curb, “Can Randy come out to play?”
With the news of the dead bird, Randy rounded up his friends and immediately made a bee line for the back yard patio.

Carol and I emptied the car of the morning purchases and I promptly left again as I had another errand to run. I didn’t discover what happened with the deceased bird until I returned home a few hours later. Then Carol told me the rest of the story as she filled me in on what transpired.

When Randy and his friends found the dead bird, he immediately hatched a plan. Randy asked his mother if she had a small box. As it turned out we had a small rectangular wooden box from a block of cheese we had previously purchased. Carol was saving it for some undefined use, so she thought this was as good a use as any.

Randy now needed some linen and cotton to line the box. Carol supplied these by giving him an old handkerchief of mine and some cotton balls. Randy organized a team effort with his friends to fashion a coffin from these materials. They lined the box with the handkerchief and cushioned it with the cotton.

Once finished, the bird was gently laid in the makeshift casket. They placed the open casket in Randy’s little red wagon. The lid to the box was laid next to it. Randy now asked the girls to pick some flowers from the garden to decorate the casket and wagon. A potpourri of flowers was laid in the wagon surrounding the casket. The funeral procession was now ready to begin.

The entourage of mourners marched around the neighborhood in single file. Randy pulled the wagon with the line of children following in single file, all heads bowed in serious sadness and silent dirge. For the neighbors, it must have been quite a sight with the parade of solemn little four to six year old children following a red wagon filled with flowers surrounding an open casket.

After circuiting the neighborhood the procession returned to our backyard. Randy retrieved a small shovel from our shed and found a place in Carol’s flower garden to dig the grave. The dirt in our yard was not conducive to easy digging as it was made mostly of clay and rocks with only a six inch covering of topsoil. Randy began earnestly to dig, but once he hit the clay, the effort to dig deeper became significantly difficult. When he got to about twelve inches deep it got so difficult Randy was prompted to consult with his mother once again.

“Mom,” he said, “does the grave really have to be six feet deep?”

Carol replied, “Randy, for the bird it only has to be twelve inches deep.”

Dilemma solved, the grave was now ready to receive its occupant. But one more thing needed to be done. Randy asked his mother for the family Bible.

The funeral scene was now fully prepared and ready. Randy, holding the Bible in his hands, presented to the assembled congregation of friends a brief funeral sermon and eulogy for the bird. After a short but heartfelt prayer, he placed the lid on the box and secured it. Gently laying the casket into the grave, the children took turns throwing dirt into the grave.

With the grave covered and strewn with flowers, the kids went out to the front of the house to continue their play.

Soon Randy’s friend Tommy came home. He was out with his parents and missed the whole funeral and burial experience. All of Randy’s pals excitedly told Tommy in great detail the funeral they had for the dead bird. Filled with shock and disappointment, Tommy immediately began to cry and sob uncontrollably. He stood shaking with tears flowing down his cheeks. It was just too much to have missed for this six year old lad.

Randy couldn’t bear to see his good friend Tommy so distraught. He put his arm around Tommy and calmly assured him, “Don’t cry Tommy, we’ll do the funeral all over again!”

So out came the wagon and shovel and the bird’s casket was carefully exhumed. Placed in the wagon with the flowers the process in its entirety was repeated for Tommy’s benefit. That little bird was blessed with not one but two funerals!

Turning Points

What touched me about this experience was Randy’s compassion and sensitivity to Tommy’s feelings. His immediate resolution of the situation was impressive. He obviously learned a lot of details from witnessing funerals that I had conducted. Randy’s love of animals prompted him to provide a dignified burial for this dead stranger that lost its life in our yard. Randy’s character, his sensitivity to the feelings of others, knowing he could make a difference, and respecting life of the animals he loved would serve him well throughout his life.

A turning point for me was a deeper realization that how parents live and act has a powerful and effective influence on the character of their children. As the old adage states, “actions speak louder than words.” A parent may not realize it at the moment, but their conduct is a significant factor in the life of their children.

Puerto Vallarta, Mexico – Randy’s First Dorado

When Carol and I planned our vacation for the summer of 1985 we decided to spend the first week in Puerto Vallarta and the second week in Cancun. We had been vacationing for the previous four years in Cancun and I wanted to introduce Randy to fishing for Dorado. One of the attractions for choosing Puerto Vallarta as our destination was its location on the Pacific coast of Mexico and their year round Dorado fishing season.

After weeks of preparation, the Saturday of our trip dawned. Our carry-on baggage and fishing gear was loaded into a friend’s car and off to Tijuana airport we went. For the first time we were flying Mexican airlines for this trip.

When we arrived at the airport we bid goodbye to our friend and got on line for check-in. We waited patiently amidst the other travelers comprised of a diverse mixture of native Mexicans and American tourists. The time for the flight came and went. Everyone wondered what happened as to why none of us were processed for checked in. Soon we learned that the flight was cancelled and the next flight to Puerto Vallarta would be Sunday at eight in the morning.

With no other choice but to return home till the next morning, we rented a car and went back home for the night.

I didn’t trust the information we got, so I set the alarm for five in the morning.

At the sound of the alarm, I roused Carol and Randy, repacked the rental car and headed back to the Tijuana airport. With little traffic that early on a Sunday morning, we made it to the airport in a little more than half an hour.

I returned the car and we walked into the airport lugging our six carry-on bags at a quarter to six. A man wearing what appeared to be an official airline uniform asked if we were going to Puerto Vallarta.

I replied, “Yes.”

Somewhat agitated, he told us to hurry and run as he pointed the way.

“Run to the gate! Your plane leaves in ten minutes,” he said.

We raced down the corridor to the gate, handed over our tickets and scrambled onto the plane. We were surprised to find three seats together and room for all our carry-on bags near the front of the plane. I was thankful for my thoughts the night before that got us up so early because the original time we were given for the flight was two hours later. I wondered about all our fellow travelers from the day before and what they would find when they returned to the airport at eight that morning. Would they miss yet another flight?

As soon as we were seated, the door was closed and we were advised to buckle up and get ready for take-off. Finally we were on our way to Puerto Vallarta, a little stressed but thankful we made the flight on time.

As soon as we were airborne, my thoughts returned to anticipating the two weeks of vacation ahead of us. The flight was uneventful and we arrived early morning in Puerto Vallarta. A taxi ferried us to our resort where we checked in. We went to our room and quickly unpacked. Once we donned our bathing suits we immediately took advantage of the beautiful hot humid weather at the resort. We spent the first half hour exploring the grounds and amenities together as a family. It didn’t take long for Randy to ask me to accompany him in his quest to find a fishing spot.

While Carol found a comfortable lounge chair at the pool, Randy and I set out to explore the area in search for fishing opportunities. We soon found that the main marina was just a short walk from the resort. The marina offered Randy ample space to fish from the docks, but he was not going to catch any Dorado there. It was going to take a hired boat to reach the fishing grounds that would yield the fighting Dorado.

One of the most sought after saltwater fish that avid fishermen hope to catch at least once in their life is the Dolphin fish, also known as Mahi-Mahi and Dorado. The attraction to this fish aside from its vivid colors and unusual shape is its extraordinary fight. Mahi-Mahi means ‘Very Strong” in Hawaiian. The name is apropos because it’s a voracious fighter when hooked in spite of its size. Dorado will break water leaping, thrashing and dancing six feet above the surface of the water. The battle experienced by the angler is exciting and thrilling especially for a young boy. Randy being an avid fisherman, I wanted him to experience the thrill of catching a Dorado.

We returned to the resort where Randy gathered his fishing gear and off we went back to the marina. This became Randy’s daily venture walking the few short blocks from our resort to the boat marina. There he fished till he had to come back for lunch and dinner.

Each day I joined Randy at the marina. I left Carol to sunbathe at the beach or pool. On the second day, I walked down the dock and found some fishing boats for charter. I inquired as to the cost of a fishing trip into the Pacific specifically for Dorado. I was told it was $300 for the day. This was a little outside our budget so I was quite disappointed. I hoped that maybe something would present itself to allow Randy to get his shot at landing a Dorado.

Later that day a man strolled down the docks with his two boys. He stopped and asked me if I knew where he could charter a fishing boat. He too wanted to take his two boys out for a day of fishing. I directed him to the people who gave me the $300 quote. Soon he returned, and offered up a plan to take the boys out fishing and split the cost of the charter. I agreed and we set a date for the following morning.

The next morning the five of us arrived at the marina. We agreed that the boys would do all the fishing. The older of the two boys was Randy’s age and the two immediately got acquainted. The younger lad was a bit shy, but soon the three of them were talking fishing with an air of excited anticipation in their voices.

After the deckhands completed their preparations we left the dock and headed out to sea. After about forty-five minutes we were in the ocean. The swells caused the boat to rock considerably. The rocking of the boat as it negotiated the swells did not affect Randy since he had a lot of experience with ocean fishing. But apparently the other boys were not used to this and promptly became sea sick. They found a place where they could lay down in obvious misery.

The boat slowed down to trolling speed and the deckhand began to bait the hooks on two trolling rigs. Once the rigs were in the water, the real waiting began. We agreed before we left the dock that the boys would rotate taking in the catch. The older of the two boys would take the first hook-up, Randy the second and the youngest boy the third.

A few minutes into the initial troll there was a hook-up. But the older boy was too sick so Randy took the fighting chair as the deckhand handed him the rod. Randy caught the first fish. It was a real fighter, like nothing Randy had ever landed before. It jumped and danced on the water, flailing and flashing its brilliant green and blue colors in the sunlight. The deckhand kept near Randy, coaching him to keep the line taut.

Each time Randy was able to reel in a few yards of line, the fish would break water and pull out more line against the drag of the reel. Back and forth went the battle between Randy and the fighting Dorado. As he fought against the powerful fish, I got my camera and caught Randy’s thrill and excitement beaming from his face.

After Randy landed that first fish, the deckhand once more baited the lines and began the troll again. Each time there was a hook-up the other two boys were given a chance to bring one in, but time after time they were so sea sick they relinquished their turn to Randy. They were just too miserable to take the rod. So Randy caught the second, third and fourth fish.

After a while there was another hook-up and they were giving the rod to Randy again when he went over and encouraged the older boy to take it instead. Reluctantly he got up and hopped in the chair and fought the fish till it was landed. That was the only fish he caught all day. The younger boy was just too sick, so after Randy landed a another Dorado, we headed back to the docks early.

It was thrilling watching Randy’s sheer delight fighting the Dorado. More importantly was the sense of pride I felt for Randy as I watched him encouraging the other boy to fight through his misery and experience the thrill of landing this fighting fish.

Turning Points

This experience revealed a number of turning points. Firstly, I felt bound by a financial limitation. The appearance of a stranger with a financial solution taught me that sometimes our perceived obstacles are merely “obstacle illusions”. Solutions can be just “around the corner”. I acknowledge and am grateful that God brought that stranger to our rescue and made the experience possible.

Secondly, Randy revealed how boldly acting on one’s compassion for others can bring that someone a hoped for joy that appeared to be impossible. Sacrifice for others is a part of our character that enhances our own experiences as well as that of others. Randy’s active compassion for his new found friends surely touched them as it did Randy and me.

Precise Positioning

It was a beautiful Sunday morning in San Diego. Carol and I journeyed north to attend morning service at our church in Vista, California. After service we visited with our fellow members and then left for home. On the way we planned our afternoon.

After a light lunch at home, Carol would visit her 94 year old mother, Clara. Clara was at a rehabilitation facility recovering from a number of falls that required a short stay in the hospital followed by rehabilitation. My agenda was to make a visit to church members living in Lakeside about twenty miles east of our home. This couple had experienced some illness and had not been able to come to church for a few weeks. My visit had a twofold purpose. My first priority was a pastoral visit to my friends in hopes of offering some encouragement and share some of the treasures gleaned from the morning sermon. My secondary purpose was to accept my friend’s offer to loan me one of her husband’s walkers for my mother-in-law. We expected Clara would be leaving rehab soon and needed a walker until she could get her strength back.

After our lunch, Carol left to visit her mother and I headed off to Lakeside.

Carol’s visit went well. She was able to share some nuggets from the morning service that lifted Clara’s spirits. Carol left after her visit to do some shopping at a mall near the rehab center.

Meanwhile, I made my journey east to visit our friends. The three of us enjoyed a pleasant conversation sharing thoughts inspired by the morning’s church service. Following our conversation, I viewed the collection of available walkers. I picked out two and after our goodbyes, I loaded them into my car and headed home.

I was about a third of the way home when my phone rang. It was Carol. She had just received a call from the rehab center that Clara fell and they were hailing an ambulance to take her to the hospital emergency room. Although Clara did not sustain any noticeable injury, hospital protocol required her to go to emergency. I told Carol I was on my way home and would divert my course to the hospital and meet them there.

I immediately prayed. Firstly I thanked God that Clara was not seriously hurt. Then, with a disappointed feeling, questioned Him as to why it had to happen yet again! No sooner did these questioning words escape my lips when another thought forcefully gripped my mind. Its expression came in the words, “Okay Lord, I know you must have something big and important planned for this to happen again. I don’t know what You have up Your sleeve, but I just want You to know I am going to be keeping my eyes wide open for whatever You have in store. Just give me skill to listen for the whisper of Your Spirit when He is guided somewhere to fulfill Your purpose and hope in me.”

About twenty minutes later I arrived at the hospital emergency parking area and parked my car. I exited the car just as the ambulance carrying Carol and Clara arrived. The back door of the ambulance opened and Carol came out followed by the gurney carrying Clara. Clara was wheeled by the EMT’s into the emergency room with Carol and me right behind.

Upon entering the emergency room we found it to be jammed packed. Not a single cubicle was available. Doctors and nurses were busy attending the overloaded facility. Amidst the beehive of activity, Clara was transferred onto a hospital gurney, quickly examined and assessed as not critical. Her gurney was placed against the wall in the hallway. A folding chair was provided for Carol at the foot of Clara’s gurney. I stood in a one foot square space next to Carol against the wall. This was the only possible place for me to stand. Six inches either way I would be blocking the busy corridor to my right or access to a constantly opening and closing door just behind me. I stood there for about fifteen minutes.

Suddenly a young lady came up to me, looked into my eyes and asked, “Evangelist Musterer?”

I replied, “Yes.”

She said pointing, “If you look over there, just through the small crack in that curtain, you will see my mother. She was with you in church this morning. When she came home, she couldn’t breathe and we had to call for an ambulance to bring her here to emergency. She has been here for a while and when she looked up through the little crack in the curtain she saw you. Will you please come and pray with her after the doctor leaves her cubicle?”

“Of course,” I said, “I will be honored to pray with her!”

She quickly returned to her mother and I quietly prayed and thanked God for giving me this blessing, to be a blessing for my friend in her time of need. I marveled at the extraordinary length God went to engineering this meeting and to serve someone in need. I realized that I was standing in the one and only square foot of that hospital where I was visible to our sister in faith. I stood in absolute awe of the love of God for those who love Him and the meticulous means He uses to affect His blessings on those in need.

I watched intently until I saw the doctor leave my friend’s cubicle and made my way to visit her. I smiled and shared with her what God had done in making it possible for me to be there for her. I prayed with her, thanking God for His awesome act of love and asked for His continued blessing for her health. I offered her some words of encouragement and assured her that I would contact her priest and advise him of her situation.

I returned to my “station” and called the priest from our Vista congregation who had been out of town that day. I filled him in on what had just happened and he immediately made plans for a hospital visit to my friend.

After a short stay in the hospital, she was able to regain her strength and health and returned home. Clara was sent back to rehab after all her tests proved normal. She had no injury of any kind! All day I thought of this experience and how God was able to get my attention to do something to fulfill His purpose.

Turning Points

This experience reinforces the principles of Solomon’s recipe – Trust, look past understanding, in all things acknowledge Him and He will direct your paths. When the fourth part can become reality – and He will direct your paths – you experience profound events such as this one. In reflecting on my prayer when I discovered Clara had fallen again, I noted that thanksgiving came first, then acknowledgement, then the preparation for the anticipated guidance – another turning point for me.