![]() David said, Keep me safe, my God, for in you I take refuge. Psalm 16:1 I miss conversations that we never got to have. Uncle Harold, my grandfather’s big brother, passed away several years ago, and I honestly regret not taking the time to talk with him more. I don’t have many regrets. I mean true make-me-hang-my-head sorrows. Of course, there are mistakes or things I might do differently given a second chance. Sometimes regret comes with personal loss. This can easily turn into resentment if I indulge in them. I simply miss my Uncle Harold. Uncle Harold was a World War II hero who flew in one of three reserve planes for General Taylor. This Georgia soldier of the 101st Airborne, Headquarters Company, taught our family about honor that we usually read about in novels. He was courage. Quiet, humble, unassuming courage. Around 1:30 am of D-Day, Uncle Harold crossed the English Channel, parachuting behind enemy lines that clear night. He was captured and sent by train to a prisoner of war camp in Czechoslovakia. Uncle Harold worked in a mine for nine long winter months near Prague. After his liberation and return to the US, Uncle Harold embraced life, marrying and raising a beautiful family. I know he had regrets that were heavy to live with, yet he smiled. He chose to laugh and to love. Uncle Harold fought his battles and he lived the life he was given. I wish I had asked him if he felt like David seeking refuge from his enemies? How did he trust God throughout these experiences? How did he pray? I only remember him saying that the men would tell each other see you back. He never imagined that he would not return home to his family. He was a warrior. It was my grandfather who told me how Mama Powers, their mom, prayed constantly for him to safely return home. This reminds me of the power of a mother’s prayer. It also reminds me of how I have learned to pray from other warriors in my life. Mary fights all battles with beauty of flowers. She and my mom tied yellow ribbons around the trees at my new house when I first moved to Americus. I was a survivor of divorce and I was coming home. Last fall, she showed me how to arrange flowers as we prepared for my daughter’s bridesmaids’ luncheon. I am amazed at her authentic love of life. Mary’s witness taught me to pray for my future- to look up for something beautiful rather than holding my head down with loss. Johnnie fights her battles by pouring herself into the kids she teaches, leaving her tender mark on their hearts and letting them know they are loved. She cared for her husband Mike as cancer stole him from her, yet she still loves him just as strongly today as she did fifteen years ago. I laughed and cried with her on the phone last night. She has the best laugh and purest tears for those she loves. Johnnie taught me to pray for the sustaining power of His grace. My aunt Patsy simply fought for everyone and anything worth battling for in this world. She passed away at the beginning of spring, but she was a vibrant woman, living her life on fire - for her Visa and Passport Company, her travel, and her family. When I was fifteen, we went to Paris, and she showed me what was possible for my life. Patsy took me to see Les Misérables in New York City and I began to study French. If it wasn’t for her, I would not have my very embarrassing yet very true Lewis Grizzard encounter. Patsy taught me my finding prayer- a prayer of simple faith for God’s will to be done in small and big moments of searching. Liz, my dear teacher friend who up and moved to a farm in Nebraska, fights gently with the courage of her convictions. She is officially the coolest person I know. Three years ago, she faced open heart surgery with unwavering faith. She also rides motorcycles with her husband. When we taught together, we would pray out loud – with each other, over our rooms, or for our sanity. She taught me the power of intercessory prayer. At the risk of overusing the bird theme, I have to say that these precious people are warrior geese. Flying through their personal storms, they have honked loudest in the quietest of ways and got my attention. I listened to my prayer warriors. I try to pray all these prayers. I hope I live this life I am given as well as they have. It is one regret I do not wish to have. Harold Powers standing with his aunt
3 Comments
Bob
5/24/2020 09:52:56 am
A very warm and comforting message.
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Helen
5/24/2020 02:54:49 pm
Love. I regret not asking my dad about more history things. I took for granted being able to tell my students, “Let me text my dad” whenever they had a history question I couldn’t answer.
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Joyce
5/25/2020 03:21:34 am
All these folks have left their “love patch” for your “patchwork quilt of life” and you have honored their gift by carefully weaving it into the fabric of your life❤️❤️❤️❤️
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JoAnna Arnold
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