Repost - The Gift

Pin It Originally posted on January 25, 2009

I am a firm believer that we can be the hands and feet of God; moving and serving each other as he would if he were here walking among us. In the words of Alabama: "...there are angels among us." There have been, in my own life, times when I have been at the receiving hands of these angels in disguise.

I stumbled across my journals tonight. I was looking for something else when I found the stack of books I’d not looked at in years. One of these drew my attention. It was a blue, hardcover journal I’d written a flurry of years ago; in a time when I was making that transition from boyhood to manhood. In the front of this journal I wrote something a few years after my original entries:

“…In all the things in life we do, everything contains lessons…if only we look hard enough to see them.”

For the next few posts, I would like to share a few of the ‘gems’ hidden away in these pages…nestled amongst the frivolity and stupidity of a boy who has changed in so many ways from this person he once was, and in other ways, changed because of these experiences.

Rewind: 12 or so years ago.

When I graduated high school I moved to Spokane, Washington.

I worked at Ernst Home Center.

I also worked at a movie theater.

I used to sell popcorn and tear tickets.

Yet, during this time I never realized just how much the people at the movie theater cared about me.

On November 14th I was just finishing my shift at the theater; Vince Brown, one of the managers, said that he needed to see me after work.

I waited at the box office until Vince was done counting deposits.

He saw me waiting and asked me to follow him outside. I walked with him to his car in the lightly-falling snow, the white flakes spotting my black vest like flakes of ash from a bonfire.

Vince said that he wanted to show me something.

When we got to his car, he unlocked the back door and reached inside, saying, “Now, this is just a little something from me, and someone else who wishes to remain anonymous.”

He pulled out a large J.C. Penny bag.

I knew what was in that bag, even before he handed it to me.

“Vince, I can’t take that.” I protested, holding up both hands.

Vince shook his head, thrust the bag into my hands and said, “People care about you, and you need to let them do things for you every once and awhile.”

He looked at me for another second. As I made to protest again he added, “You’ve been on the ‘giving’ end for so long, you need to know what it’s like being on the ‘getting’ end.”

With that he turned and walked away, leaving me in the falling snow, clutching the plastic bag with trembling fingers.

I watched as Vince returned to the theater without looking back, and I realized that I was crying. I stood there for nearly another minute…snowflakes settling in my hair and on my shoulders.

I had been coming to work that winter without a coat. I had lost my last one nearly a year before, and hadn’t put the money aside to buy another one yet. I figured that I could get by for the time being with a sweatshirt…which I did.

I remember Vince, Diane Cahalan, & Cori Wetzel all asking me at one time or another where my coat was. I always told them that I didn’t need one.

They hadn’t believed me.

As I opened the bag I saw the black and blue St. John’s Bay winter coat.

I felt a little ashamed that I had this jacket. It was undoubtedly expensive, and I didn’t feel like I deserved it.

I trudged to my car, wiping the snow away from the windshield and looked up at the darkened heavens. The snow continued to fall, and everything about me was silent. It was as if the entire world was asleep and I was the only one awake.

I opened my car door and put the bag inside, standing out in the chilly air, my breath appearing before me as puffs of steam. I reached back into my car and took the bag out. I removed the coat and slipped it over my shoulders.

It felt warm. Warm from the kindness of others

Spokane Photoshoot

Pin It I needed a break.

Don’t we all from time to time to take our minds off of what is going on in our various lives?

I am glad that my respite came in the form of my friend, Laura, and her two great kids. We were able to spend a few hours traipsing the downtown area of Spokane seeing what images we were able to capture together.

Her son, He-Who-Will-Not-Be-Named, made me laugh…a lot.

These are just a few of my favorites.

And she made brownies, too.

(Click on images for a larger view)

Journal – The Search

Pin It There’s no other love quite like that of a mother.

Rewind: 12 or so years ago.

When I was living in Spokane, Washington, I was headed out to visit some friends late one night in Rockford. I was on the Argonne side of town, and had stopped off at SuperAmerica, a local gas station. When I went inside to pay for my fuel, I saw a woman—near hysterics—who was frantically telling the cashier that she was not familiar with this area, and had lost her car and her three young children who were in it.

My heart immediately went out to this woman, Rachel, who tearfully accepted my offer for help. As we began to drive down the side streets and alleyways she told her story. She and her three children, a ten year-old daughter, Savannah, and two sons, Ryan—who was eight, and Alex—who was two, had been driving to a friend’s house when their car had run out of gas. When it first started to splutter, she pulled off the main road to a side street. She figured that a gas station couldn’t be too far away. Thinking it was much too cold to take her children with her on a walk to find it, she told them to lock the doors and she would be right back.

It took Rachel nearly ten minutes to get to the gas station; once she got a borrowed gas can she found herself turned around, and couldn’t remember what direction she’d come from. She walked a bit in each direction, but soon realized that it was hopeless…she simply couldn’t remember where she’d left her car—and her children.

As we drove for the next 40 minutes I watched this woman as she broke into tears. She pleaded to the heavens. She even cursed at herself for her disorientation. There was nothing I could do…I could only to try to talk to her and be hopeful as we continued to drive up and down street after darkened street.

We couldn’t find them.

I was emitting silent prayers, imploring a loving God to show us the way…to help us to find her lost children.

No light or impressions came…we kept changing directions and cutting down street after street. “This looks familiar.” she’d say, becoming excited, but when her car was nowhere to be seen, she would begin to cry harder.

“What have I done!” she moaned. “I’ve lost my children!” She began to wring her hands and pull at her hair.

Rachel was at the breaking point.

I was starting to worry that something terrible had happened to her children.

Following a radical idea, I drove the other direction—opposite of where we’d been searching. In another few minutes we happened on a darkened street; in a bank parking lot I saw a police car.

The officer was standing next to a beige hatchback with three small children who were huddled together in the chilly evening air.

“It’s my kids!” Rachel shouted. Even before I had stopped the car Rachel had flung open the door and was sprinting toward her children. When she called their names they began to run to her…it was obvious that Savannah had tried to be brave for the sake of her brothers, but I could tell that she had been just as worried and scared as they were.

As I watched this little family embrace, I felt my heart flooding over with gratitude.

The officer asked a few questions as I emptied the contents of the gas can into her tank. In a few minutes the officer was finished, and Rachel’s children clambered back into the car; which was now running with the heater at full-throttle.

Savannah, Ryan, and Alex were relieved, they were safe.

Rachel faced me before climbing into her car. She had no words…nothing seemed to come. Her eyes again filled with tears as I asked if there was anything else they needed. She shook her head and then hugged me.

Words were not necessary, but she managed them anyway. “You’re an angel.” She whispered.

She climbed into her little car, and as I watched the taillights disappear into the darkness, I couldn’t help but whisper a prayer of thanks to a Heavenly Father who had watched out for these three little kids; and for their mother as she relentlessly searched for them.

Journal – The Gift

Pin It I stumbled across my journals tonight. I was looking for something else when I found the stack of books I’d not looked at in years. One of these drew my attention. It was a blue, hardcover journal I’d written a flurry of years ago; in a time when I was making that transition from boyhood to manhood. In the front of this journal I wrote something a few years after my original entries:

“…In all the things in life we do, everything contains lessons…if only we look hard enough to see them.”

For the next few posts, I would like to share a few of the ‘gems’ hidden away in these pages…nestled amongst the frivolity and stupidity of a boy who has changed in so many ways from this person he once was, and in other ways, changed because of these experiences.

Rewind: 12 or so years ago.

When I graduated high school I moved to Spokane, Washington.

I worked at Ernst Home Center.

I also worked at a movie theater.

I used to sell popcorn and tear tickets.

Yet, during this time I never realized just how much the people at the movie theater cared about me.

On November 14th I was just finishing my shift at the theater; Vince Brown, one of the managers, said that he needed to see me after work.

I waited at the box office until Vince was done counting deposits.

He saw me waiting and asked me to follow him outside. I walked with him to his car in the lightly-falling snow, the white flakes spotting my black vest like flakes of ash from a bonfire.

Vince said that he wanted to show me something.

When we got to his car, he unlocked the back door and reached inside, saying, “Now, this is just a little something from me, and someone else who wishes to remain anonymous.”

He pulled out a large J.C. Penny bag.

I knew what was in that bag, even before he handed it to me.

“Vince, I can’t take that.” I protested, holding up both hands.

Vince shook his head, thrust the bag into my hands and said, “People care about you, Jason. You need to let them do things for you every once and awhile.”

He looked at me for another second. As I made to protest again he added, “You’ve been on the ‘giving’ end for so long, you need to know what it’s like being on the ‘getting’ end.”

With that he turned and walked away, leaving me in the falling snow, clutching the plastic bag with trembling fingers.

I watched as Vince returned to the theater without looking back, and I realized that I was crying. I stood there for nearly another minute…snowflakes settling in my hair and on my shoulders.

I had been coming to work that winter without a coat. I had lost my last one nearly a year before, and hadn’t put the money aside to buy another one yet. I figured that I could get by for the time being with a sweatshirt…which I did.

I remember Vince, Diane Cahalan, & Cori Wetzel all asking me at one time or another where my coat was. I always told them that I didn’t need one.

They hadn’t believed me.

As I opened the bag I saw the black and blue St. John’s Bay winter coat.

I felt a little ashamed that I had this jacket. It was undoubtedly expensive, and I didn’t feel like I deserved it.

I trudged to my car, wiping the snow away from the windshield and looked up at the darkened heavens. The snow continued to fall, and everything about me was silent. It was as if the entire world was asleep and I was the only one awake.

I opened my car door and put the bag inside, standing out in the chilly air, my breath appearing before me as puffs of steam. I reached back into my car and took the bag out. I removed the coat and slipped it over my shoulders.

It felt warm. Warm from the kindness of others

The Forklift Snowplow

Pin It All the snow we’ve gotten over the past few days has reminded me of living in Washington, and the storms we’d get there.

As I was readying for the holidays and clearing out some boxes, I came across a Polaroid snapshot of when I was working at Ernst Home Center and at the Newport Cinemas after I graduated from high school.

As I looked at this photo, I could clearly remember that particular winter where it had snowed quite hard, and I was working out in the lumber yard. Unfortunately, people wanting to pick up supplies were not able to get them if they were in a car without four-wheel drive. We, in turn, were forced to carry these items out to them.

Not too much fun in a foot of snow, to be sure.

To help combat this problem I created this little beauty…I called it, “The Forklift Plow.” It worked like magic, and I was able to clear the entire back lot.

I guess you could say that I was a hero that day.

I could sure use that plow again right now…

Recent Photos

Pin It When I was back in Spokane for my brother’s wedding, my little sister and I visited the town I’d lived in when I was kid. Consequently, this is the same town I used as the setting for “Take the Long Way Home.”

“So, Teachinfourth, how’s the writing coming?

Back burner. Need I say more?

The main reason we had gone to Rockford was so that I could show my sister where we’d once lived…granted, it was before she was born…but our family lived there, nonetheless (by the way, the home is pictured on the front cover located HERE.)

As we drove around this small Washington town, I noticed this amazing little building which just seemed to call to me, so that I might take its picture. I was amazed at one set of doors which had been painted a few times, and had since cracked, faded, and peeled. As I raised my camera I was not disappointed, the ancient wood put on its finest colors for the shot.



This third photo was not actually taken in the early-morning fog—as one might suspect; but rather taken from inside a cloud.

I was staying up at my friends’ house and as I left their home early on the morning of my brother’s wedding, I was in the midst of a hazy wonderland. It opened up the spectral view from their mountaintop home where a simple bush became a heavenly silhouette.