He sat upright on the marble bench he had been lying on and became aware of the pedestrians as they diligently passed him, all oblivious to his situation. The distance that separated them was of a different dimension and could not be mesured by inches or feet, but rather by a spiritual wall built high on fear and shame, viewed with disdain and mistrust from the outside world, obscuring Bill and giving him anonymity and safety.

All the goals and aspirations he had once held in his youth had been smashed and bloodied and torn from his hands by the circumstances of life. His dreams lay just out of reach taunting him and egging him on. Like a prize fighter who had run out of time. Battles lost and scars deepened but the will goes on out of sheer stamina.

He stood up and surveyed the bushes that were planted alongside him looking for the demon that had left him behind in this condition. Finding an empty bottle with just enough wine in the corner’s to help deaden the pain and give him enough life until he could panhandle the price of another bottle. It seemed to Bill that he had been walking on the fringes of insanity for a long time now and only the drugs and alcohol had kept him from falling head first into the pit.

“Heres to the edge”. Bill said out loud to Crispus who stared back at him in stony silence as Bill drained the dregs of the bottle directly onto his throbbing tooth. It no longer seemed strange to Bill that the only friend he had left was this granite statue of a black patriot killed in the Boston Massacre of 1770.

Bill tossed the empty wine bottle under the elm tree and stumbled towards Tremont Street. The citizens of Boston were aware of him now as they glided towards the curb to avoid him, annoyed by the distraction he was causing as he slipped into their uniformed exsistence.

“Got a quarter,” Bill muttered, the words dry and unfamilar, as he approached two men walking towards him. They shook their heads no in unison as they sidestepped around him without slowing their pace.

“Hey man got a quarter? Its been days since I had a meal ,” Bill lied as he zeroed in on a baldheaded man who slipped Bill a dollar without making eye contact.

“Hey thanks alot,”Bill called after him as he stuck the bill into his pocket. His tooth starting to throb again as if in anticipation of the relief that was coming.

Bill Snyder loved the attention accorded him. The recognition of being assoiated with powerful people like Jim Kelly and the influence and stature of being known around political circles as affilated with the Sullivans served to bring an aura of respectability and success. Better then being known as a denizen of the counter culture, Bill pondered, thinking of John Kelly’s backsliding reputation. Hippie Beads, long hair and sit ins were not on the golden boy’s agenda. Expensive automobiles, fine clothing and political appointments, that’s what Bill Snyder’s fortunes were made of.

Liz Kelly wore a black chiffon dress, low cut and revealing, a double strand of pearls graced her delicate neck. Bill was mesmerized by her genteel beauty. She was enchanting amidst the soft glow of candle light that encircled her. Her eyes, shielded behind designer glasses sparkled and danced like emerald fire flies. A mural of a Venice canal unfolded behind her, transporting them onto another continent and into another time.

“I love this restaurant, its so charming and romantic!” Liz Kelly exclaimed, her delicate complexion flushed with excitement.”I just adore the murals and statuary, they are so authentic. Liz was bubbling over with enthusiasm, eager to share some exciting news, and Bill had sensed the electricity the moment she had gotten into the car.

 ”After I graduate from Wellesley in June,” Liz grined,”I’m going to Rome for advanced studies at the prestigious Vatican Art Institute. I will be studying the Italian Renaissance period, frescos, mosaics and painting restoration.”

“Rome? for how long?”

“Six months, its quite an honor, Monsignor Rizzo called my mother this afternoon with the news.”

“Six months! I could’nt live six months without you!” Bill exclaimed. “The Vatican! Wow! How did your mother manage that one?”

“Oh I don’t know,” Liz smiled. “I imagine it has something to do with that brand new dedication plague with my grandfathers name on it. You know the one that graces the new wing of the Cardinal Cushing hospital.”

“Your grandfathers name is plastered on public buildings, parks, bridges and street signs all over Boston.” Bill said, with undertones of sarcastic envy.

“Yes I know, he was a very important man.” Liz replied, missing Bill’s jibe completely.

“I am so excited.” Liz gushed “imagine working in the Vatican museum, being surounded by Raphael’s and Michelangelo’s”. 

A seed can be planted in the darkness, but a mans soul cannot prosper in the shadows. Only Gods sunlight and rain can nourish it and make it blossom. Its Gods decision what a mans ultimate purpose should be, But its mans choice whether he stays in the shadows or moves into the sunlight and fulfills it. In the final annalysis, Bill pondered, all things have purpose. When the tide comes in and washes the beach clean, does that mean a footprint has never been there?

Midday. The sidewalks of Montague Street teemed with people streaming from office buildings, escaping mailrooms, cubicle farms and corner suites in search of a satisfying lunch. Business still buzzed in frenzied conversations over BlackBerry’s and between clusters of suits. Others left commerce at their desks, laughing with friends and hoping to get a good seat at their favorite eating place.

Maria heard none of this. She was heedless of the traffic noise, the jostling of the crowd. Only the faint sea breeze from the East River several blocks away kept her focused. Passersby couldn’t see the sullen eyes hidden behind sunglasses. It’s easy to hide in a crowd, thought Maria, No one should know who I am.

Maria had secluded herself in her office the entire morning. Hours past unnoticed as Maria’s sole fixation was the view the floor to ceiling windows afforded her. An unobstructed vista of the Promenade, the river and lower Manhattan beyond spread out before her. The executive suite was a symbol of her success, but it brought more. Like her father, a hard bitten garment district worker, Maria was cold, ruthless and unfeeling. “Maria, you do what you have to do to make it,” Papa had said, “Don’t let them hurt you. Don’t let them use you.” Maria listened. The lying and the deceit became part of the game to protect what was hers, procure what she wanted. A little partying, a few lines, a little dalliance here and there added thrill to convention. More risk, more life, she reasoned.

             As Maria’s hazel eyes pondered the river, dark thoughts plagued her mind, as they had for the last three of her thirty-four years. The parties, the con games, the indiscretions, all left her numb, lifeless, dead. Her husband and children didn’t know her any longer. Was it all worth feeling so diminished, so empty? Was it really possible for someone to sell their soul? What have I done? Madre de Dios, what have I done?

She shook her head as if to clear it. But the path before her was plain. The decision was made. Maria rose from her leather chair and left the office tower. She never looked back.

              Maria headed toward the Promenade. The cold, watery embrace of the East River waited at the pier’s edge, far below street level, away from the inquisitive eye. Nameless wanderers may see, but would not mark her passing. Good, thought Maria, No grave, no headstone, no one will mourn…

               Mama…Within one block of descending to cheerless bliss, Maria stopped as if shot, looked about as if she heard something. Nothing. Still, a vague memory, resurrected by one more primal, found life in Maria’s mind.

“Mama… I can’t…do this…to you,” Maria said aloud. Turning, she doubled back, retracing her own footsteps, toward the business center. Maria pushed her dark brown hair back and hastened her steps as if to outpace an unseen pursuer. Was this another miscalculation, a case of injudicious intuition that would only add to the misery? She thrust the thought aside.

Maria slipped down Henry Street and followed the narrow sidewalk. Boutiques and bistros gave way to residences. She was grateful for the cool shade cast by row houses and trees along either side of the street. Near the end of the block, amidst lush copse of hickory and oak in a tiny courtyard was a church. Built of dark, ruddy, stone bricks of varying size, it stood taller than any structure nearby, a guardian of all that was held sacred by her patrons. Maria faced the church’s weathered, iron gate. This is a place for only good and decent people, she thought, I don’t belong here. Maria had seen this place before and noticed the signs: “First Presbyterian Church” and “Open for Prayer and Meditation.” Neither the signs nor the building so much as piqued her interest in the past. Now, something inexorable had brought her to an end and drew her to ponder the posted invitation.

          Maria looked at the formidable structure. Ivy clung to the outer edges and corners and extended nearly a third of its height. Although it was a warm day, Maria trembled. She wanted to turn and run but felt rooted to the concrete pavers. She pushed open the gate. It swung easily against her touch. Gazing at the aged oak doors at the top of the steps, it reminded her of the times that her mother had taken her to mass as a small child. Mama was fervent and prayed the rosary daily. Maria had watched Mama closely. Although they had nothing, Mama always found reason to smile, even through the tears. “Always trust in God, chica,” Mama had said, “Remember to pray always.” Maria loved her mother but never found a place for her mother’s faith. Then, God had seemed distant, irrelevant, even unreal. Now, as she stood in her own private hell, Maria wondered if Mama could have been right. “Oh, Mama, why didn’t I listen?”

            Yet here she stood in the sun dappled courtyard. The wind sighed through the leaves. Sparrows Maria didn’t hear before now sang in sweet accompaniment to an unfamiliar but gentle prompting. “Maria, do what you have to do to.” “Always trust in God, chica.” The words rushed unbidden from the past with the force of the convictions and love with which they were spoken. Two disparate voices from polar fields conspired to speak to her as one. One voice. A voice greater that the sum of its ethereal parts whispered wordless volumes and touched her. “Is there a way out of the mess I’ve made?” There it was. Maria finally admitted it. She found the one who had brought her so low –herself. Strength welled up from the edges of her life. Even this place spoke to her. Its very age, marked by hardy ivy, the wind and rain swept doors, the beaten iron, and the imposing stone façade spoke of – something, Maria had no name for it – that transcended time and bared her pitiable attempts to mitigate it for a moment’s pleasure, a broken crock of useless things. No longer did Maria see utter despair. She felt the stirrings of something here that had become totally foreign to her: hope.

              This was not a Catholic church. Maria didn’t care. There was something here. Maybe a priest would help. Was there a priest here? Was anyone here? She didn’t know. I have to do this, she determined, I know this is right. Maria stowed her sunglasses and pursed her lips. She took a deep breath, mounted the steps and went inside.

My sister and her husband decided to take me to live with them. They were doing a great thing for me but my 8 year old mind could only feel rejection from my Mother and my Father.

I slept on a pull out couch in the living room of their small apartment. One night I was feeling particularly abandonned and lonesome for my Mother. I would often cry quietly into my pillow so no one would hear me, as I did on this night. I felt something. I am not sure if the bed moved or the floor creaked or the heat just came on, but I felt it. As I lifted my head from being stuffed into the pillow I saw that the whole room was lit up. It was very bright and as I adjusted my eyes to the starkness of the light, I saw someone standing at the foot of my couch/bed. It was Jesus. I recognized Him immediately. His arms were open wide and I felt like the air in the room was embracing me with love. He simply looked at me and said, “Everything is going to be alright.” That was the end of it. I lay there.

In the morning, the sun shone through the slats of the venetian blind and woke me up. I looked for Jesus in the living room but He was not there.

To this day, I can’t honestly say if it was a dream or a Christophany.

Twenty one years later, a kind couple told me that Jesus loved me right where I was at in my life. Bonnie and Lee explained to me that if I was the only human being on the face of this earth, Jesus still would have given His life to redeem me from sin. I always thought that I was a mistake, born at the wrong time to the wrong family, but these folks said that God does not make mistakes, He has a plan for my life. I told them that I knew I was living in sin and had no plans to change my ways. In their simple, plain language way, they told me that was between me and God but I shouldn’t let my sin keep me from reaching out to God through Jesus. After all, He knows me best and Jesus STILL gave His life for me. That fact was a done deal and I could not change it. Then, Bonnie told me that God would never leave me or forsake me. No matter what I had done or will do in the future.

They backed up every statement by showing me scriptures to confirm what they were telling me. John 3:17;  John 10:27,28,29; Romans 2:11; Romans 5:8; Romans 10:9,10,11.

I challenge you to read those scriptures and see if you are not compelled to reach out and trust this Jesus to be your Savior. I gave my heart and my life to Him and I have never looked back.

   All the other turtles in the pond make fun of Terr and Tell because they share one shell. They make mean jokes about them because Terr and Tell are different indeed.

   Myrtle met the twins at turtle school in the first grade. She thought the girls were very nice and they were very smart for first graders. They could walk forwards and backwards with grace. As Myrtle got to know them better she learned how to tell them apart by the way they spoke. Terr sounded a lot like Myrtle’s mother when she spoke. She was very sweet and pronounced her words quite clearly. Tell was also very sweet but she rolled her R’s as if there were four R’s in a row in each word.

   “How are you today, my friends?” Myrtle would call out when she saw Terr and Tell.

   “Great thank you.”

   “Grrrreat, thank you.”

   The twins would be sad when the other turtles said ugly things to them but Terr and Tell learned that even the meanest of turtles need to be cared about. When they were alone, they would often pray for the very ones that had been mean to them that day.

   “Heavenly Father, please bless Big Snap. Help him to see the good things in life.”

   “Yes Lorrrd. Please let him feel Yourrrr love today.”

   One day, the third grade class went on a field trip into the forest. Mrs. Shelly, their teacher, wanted to teach them how to find the best berries to eat. The girls were very excited and the boys thought this was a fine time to show off how much they knew about far away places. Turtles don’t usually travel very far away from the pond they live in but the parents gave Mrs. Shelly permission to take the youngsters.

   Off they went, in a direction that none of the students had ever been before. Mrs. Shelly told them that her Granny had taken her along this very path when she was a young turtle. Her Granny knew where all the good berry patches in the forest were and now, Mrs. Shelly knew too. She led the class on a lovely journey through the shady underbrush where  everything was lush, cool and green.

   Terr and Tell and Myrtle walked together enjoying the fresh air and the feeling of being on a grown up adventure. They chattered about how pretty the forest was. They could hardly believe their eyes when they reached the berry patch. The berries were darkest blue and they were so big that they hung off the green branches until they almost touched the ground. Mrs. Shelly said that they could each eat some of the berries. She taught them to be considerate enough to leave some for other hungry turtles who might come along.

   As the class began to eat the tasty berries, one of the classmates named Boxer saw a strange glow through the green bushes.

   “Hey”, shouted Boxer. “What is that orange light flickering through the bushes?”

   At once, Mrs. Shelly called all the youngsters to come and make a circle. She began to count the children to make sure they were all with her and then, she spoke in a strong and steady voice.

   “You must all stay together with me. That is a forest fire and it can spread very quickly through the underbrush so we must move as fast as we can. I will lead you back to the pond. We will all be safe in the water there.”

   The classmates remained orderly as they all followed Mrs. Shelly along the path that led back to the pond. Terr and Tell were the last ones in the single file row. Myrtle was just in front of them. There was no excited chatter about the lovely scenery now. They were all feeling a bit frightened. In a moment, a tree fell across their path. It was on fire and it blocked the way so they could not get around it. The underbrush all around Mrs. Shelly’s class was catching on fire and it seemed that there was no way out of the ring of fire. Terr was about to panic. “Oh Tell, there is no way out of this fire.”

   “I see the way out, Terrrr! It is in my plain view.”

   As Myrtle turned around to face Terr, she could see behind them. The fire had not spread to their backs yet. Tell shouted to her classmates and teacher, “Follow me!!”

Without turning around, Tell began to run toward a clearing where the fire had not reached. Now it was Terr’s turn to run backwards. Thank goodnes they were so good at it because in her clear, sweet voice Terr called out. “Come this way at once. Terr can see a way out. Come this way!”

   All the class turned and followed Tell and Terr. As they reached the clearing, Mrs. Shelly counted her students. She was delighted that everyone made it to the clearing unharmed. From there, she recognized another path that would lead them to their pond. She rallied her precious youngsters and led them all safely home. 

   Myrtle stood in front of her class and shared her thoughts. about the day. “Terr and Tell are heroes today. If they had not been formed in a way that they could see where they were going and where they had been at the same time, the whole class may have been trapped in the forest fire. If they had not developed the grace to walk forward and backward with ease, they may not have been able to lead us all to the clearing.”

   Mrs. Shelly agreed.

   Big Snap stood in front of Terr and said, ” You guys are so cool. I think being twins in one shell is a good thing. I know it is a good thing for our whole class today.”

   Then he walked around to stand in front of Tell. “God did not make a mistake when He made you. I believe He knew exactly what He was doing. He loves us all very much.”

   The whole class began to celebrate their hero friends by shouting , “Hooray. Hooray. Terr and Tell have saved the day!”

   “Hooray!!” shouted Terr. She was celebrating the answer to their prayers for Big Snap.

   “Prrrraise the Lorrrrd!!” Shouted Tell.

I didn’t want to go.  It would mean that I would miss my first varsity football game.  I, even tried to negotiate and leave after the game, but my dad wasn’t buying it.  My uncle, his youngest brother had died in a one car accident and the funeral was this weekend.  Being a selfish 16 year old was nothing new and this time would be no different.  My thoughts only consisted of what a huge inconvenience this was for me and how unfair it was that my uncle would up and die on us like this.  Didn’t he realize what a big moment this was for me?

God realized it in more ways than one.  He understood that this would be the most significant weekend of my life.  The event that would lay the ground work for all He would do in me and through me up to this point in my life.  It would be this September weekend that Jesus choose to bring me out of darkness and into His light and life ever lasting.

The circumstances that surrounded my uncle’s death were no mystery.  He had a habitual drug problem that nearly took his life 3 years prior to his death.  Even that experience could not help him overcome this habit that plagued him. 

During the service another one of my dad’s brothers took an opportunity to share a testimony about his God and what He had done.  My Uncle Larry preached like I had never heard him before.  His impromptu sermon included telling the entire congregation about his brother’s drug addiction.  Uncle Larry’s sermon ending with him giving an alter call to all who were willing to come down front and confess that they needed Jesus. 

My heart was racing and it felt like it was ready to leap out of my chest.  I could not understand why this was happening to me.  I had been a good Catholic boy.  I did not get into that much trouble.  I had done all the things required of faithful practicing Catholics to be considered “saved”, right?

The invitation was given and I can remember rising to my feet to walk down the outside aisle and falling into my Uncle’s arms with tears rolling down my face.  It did not even occur to me what I had done or who I had done it in front of.  I had just confessed my need for Jesus in front my entire family.  Desperation will cause you to do things that you may not ordinarily do if given a chance to think about it.  The beauty of it is, is that I had a need and Jesus was the only one who could satisfy. 

He saved me, and over the course of the last 20 years He has continued to clean and refine this vessel.  Some of the images of that day have faded from memory but the significance will never leave me, because it started the journey from death to life.