An Unforgettable Flight

BY DENNY KUCICH AS TOLD TO BEVERLY BRASS



I put my carry-on in the luggage compartment and sat down in my assigned seat. This is going to be a long flight, I thought. I’m glad I have a good book to read. Maybe I’ll get a little nap.



I fly frequently; I always look for an opportunity to share Jesus with someone. I wondered who it could be, because all around me were empty seats. Not much of a chance to talk to anyone, I thought.



Then just before takeoff a line of soldiers came down the aisle and took the seats across the aisle and in front of me. More came. Still more. Finally 10 soldiers filled all the vacant seats, totally surrounding me. This is more like it! OK, Lord, which one will it be? Who needs to hear about You?



I decided to start a conversation.

“Where are you headed?” I asked the soldier sitting closest to me.



“Chicago. To Great Lakes Base. We’ll be there two weeks for special training. Then we’re being deployed to Iraq.”



Anyone Hungry?

After we had been flying for about an hour, an announcement that sack lunches were available for $5 each was made. It would be several hours before we reached Chicago, and I quickly decided that a lunch would help. As I reached for my wallet, I overheard a soldier ask his buddy if he planned to buy a lunch.



“No, that seems like a lot of money just for a sack lunch. Probably isn’t worth $5. I’ll just wait until we get to Chicago.” His friend agreed.



I looked around at the other soldiers surrounding me. Not one was buying a lunch. I was hungry, but I couldn’t bring myself to eat in front of them. I walked to the back of the plane and handed the flight attendant a $50 bill. “Please take a lunch to all those soldiers,” I said.



She grabbed my arms and squeezed tightly, her eyes wet with tears. “My son was a soldier in Iraq,” she said. “It’s almost like you’re doing it for him.”



She picked up 10 lunches and headed for the area where the soldiers were seated. Overwhelmed by her emotional response, I returned to my seat, only to realize I had failed to order a lunch for myself. Before I could undo my seat belt the flight attendant stopped by my seat.



“Which would you like—beef or chicken?” she asked.



“Chicken,” I replied, wondering why she had asked. She went to the front of the plane and returned a minute later with a dinner plate from the first-class cabin. She put down my tray table and sat the plate on it. “This is your thanks,” she said.



Now I felt guilty. I had dinner, and the soldiers had only a sack lunch.



Gathering Momentum

After we finished eating, I went again to the back of the plane, heading for the restroom.



A man stopped me. “I saw what you did,” he said. “I want to be part of it. Here—take this.” He handed me $25.



Soon after I returned to my seat, the plane’s captain came down the aisle, looking at the aisle numbers as he walked. I noticed he was looking at the numbers only on my side of the plane. When he got to my seat, he stopped, smiled, and, holding out his hand, said, “I want to shake your hand.”



Quickly unfastening my seat belt, I stood and took the captain’s hand. In a booming voice he said, “I was a soldier, and I was a pilot. Someone once bought me lunch. It was an act of kindness I never forgot. Thank you.”



I sat down embarrassed by the applause of passengers sitting nearby.



Later I walked to the front of the plane to stretch my legs. About six rows in front of me a man reached out to shake my hand. He left another $25 in my palm.



When we arrived in Chicago, I gathered my belongings and started to deplane. Waiting just inside the door was a man who stopped me, put something in my shirt pocket, turned, and walked away without saying a word. Another $25.



Upon entering the terminal, I saw the soldiers gathering for their trip to Great Lakes Base. I walked over to them and handed them $50. “Here,” I said. “By the time you reach base it’ll be time for another meal. God bless you.”



Ten young men left that flight feeling the love and respect of their fellow travelers. As I walked to my car I whispered a prayer for their safe return. They were giving their all for their country. I could give them only a couple meals. It seemed so little.



Excerpt from:

http://www.adventistreview.org/issue.php?issue=2011-1514&page=28

Drink plenty of 'water'

I've heard it. I've read it.

As long as I have been running, it's always been the same message: "drink plenty of water."

All along most race courses are water stations, and most runners slow down to drink a cup of cool water. Keeping your water level up is critical when you run.

If you get slightly dehydrated, you will not run well.

If you get moderately dehydrated, you will become disoriented.

If you get seriously dehydrated, you can die.

It's serious business.

The first year I ran, I was inexperienced (also younger, slimmer, stupider, etc.) I passed water stop after water stop, occasionally drinking a swallow or two. I felt good, and I wasn't going to waste precious seconds drinking water, even though it was a hot, humid day.

Big mistake.

As I neared the final mile, I "hit the wall." My energy level dropped to zero, I began having to walk some, and I realized I would have to work hard just to finish. I did make it across the line, but only with a tremendous headache and hardly enough energy to walk. It was not much fun.

I learned an important lesson that year.

Stopping for water doesn't actually slow you down. In fact, you will run a better race if you do drink water. The bottom line is that your body is simply not designed to function without water.

In the same way, your spiritual stamina depends on stopping for regular drinks of "spiritual water."

The dilemma for busy people is finding time to invest in reading the Word and spending time in prayer.

Like the runner intent on reaching the finish line, we tend to put off those regular drinks of water until we are totally parched.

In fact, finishing the spiritual race at all may depend on it. Runners who don't ever slow down to take a drink often stumble off the course far short of the finish line.

In this year's race, I saw a man become dehydrated just a mile from the finish. Strangely, he didn't seem to recognize that anything was wrong. He was swaying from side to side as he walked, mumbling over and over, "I'm fine. I'm fine." He was so disoriented that he didn't even recognize his own sick condition.

If you let yourself become spiritually dehydrated, you may not even be able to recognize it.

Stop today to drink some cool "Living Water."

For serious runners, it's a must.

--the Author is unknown but the
"Living Water" is known.

Satan's Beautitudes

lessed are those who are too tired, too busy, too distracted to spend an hour once a week with their fellow Christians in Church ~ they are my best workers.

Blessed are those who wait to be asked and expect to be thanked ~ I can use them in my business.

Blessed are those who are touchy. Soon they will stop going to church ~ verily, they shall be my missionaries.

Blessed are those who sow gossip and trouble ~ they are my beloved children.

Blessed are those who have no time to pray ~ for they are MY prey.

Blessed are those who gossip ~ for they are my secret agents.

Blessed are you when you read this and think it has everything to do with other people, and nothing to do with you.

~ I've got room for YOU at my inn.

The Builder – A Story of Forgiveness

Once upon a time two brothers who lived on adjoining farms fell into conflict. It was the first serious rift in 40 years of farming side by side, sharing machinery, and trading labor and goods as needed without a hitch.

Then the long collaboration fell apart. It began with a small misunderstanding and it grew into a major difference, and finally it exploded into an exchange of bitter words followed by weeks of silence.

One morning there was a knock on John's door. He opened it to find a man with a carpenter's toolbox. "I'm looking for a few days work" he said.

"Perhaps you would have a few small jobs here and there. Could I help you?"
"Yes," said the older brother. "I do have a job for you. Look across the creek at that farm. That's my neighbor, in fact, it's my younger brother. Last week there was a meadow between us and he took his bulldozer to the river levee and now there is a creek between us. Well, he may have done this to spite me, but I'll go him one better. See that pile of lumber curing by the barn? I want you to build me a fence - an 8-foot fence - so I won't need to see his place anymore. Cool him down, anyhow."

The carpenter said, "I think I understand the situation. Show me the nails and the post-hole digger and I'll be able to do a job that pleases you."

The older brother had to go to town for supplies, so he helped the carpenter get the materials ready and then he was off for the day.

The carpenter worked hard all that day measuring, sawing, nailing.

About sunset when the farmer returned, the carpenter had just finished his job. The farmer's eyes opened wide, his jaw dropped.

There was no fence there at all. It was a bridge... a bridge stretching from one side of the creek to the other! A fine piece of work handrails and all - and the neighbor, his younger brother, was coming across, his hand outstretched.

"You are quite a fellow to build this bridge after all I've said and done."
The two brothers stood at each end of the bridge, and then they met in the middle, taking each other's hand. They turned to see the carpenter hoist his toolbox on his shoulder. "No, wait! Stay a few days. I've a lot of other projects for you," said the older brother.

"I'd love to stay on," the carpenter said, "but, I have many more bridges to build."
Author Unknown