I Think I Gave God a Ride to Work Last Night

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The story began when I decided I was going to write a prayer to God every morning. I think God comes to us in many forms. A lot of times, we don't recognize him. I think he just checks in to see how we are doing and how we are treating others, especially ones in need. I think my wife and I passed the test last night, and I hope God smiled.

Since I started writing my prayer each morning, I have felt such a connection to him. My days go better, and I look at others in a different way. I think I am beginning to see them as God does. However, God has some pretty funky outfits; you would never guess it was him. Sometimes, he hangs around in some weird places, like in that men's room at the Opryland Hotel in Nashville, Tennessee, where he was disguised as a janitor.

I was standing at a urinal, doing what men do at a urinal, when out of the blue, God said, "Give him a tip." I said to myself, "Really?" So me being me I reached into my pocket and gave the janitor a ten-dollar tip. You would think I gave him a hundred dollars.

The man thanked me over and over again. I said, "You are welcome. You are doing a good job."

He said, "Bless you, sir. Bless you."

I was there on a business trip. I was wearing an expensive suit, and he acted like I was someone with money and prestige. In fact, I should have been a servant to him. When I was leaving, he said thank you again. He explained that he did try to do a good job. At that point, I told him it showed.

I know I saw God that day. As I walked out of the bathroom, a feeling came over me. I knew it was God, and I began to cry tears of joy. I couldn't control myself. When I realized what had happened, I ran back to the men's room, but no one was there.

That was many years ago, but I will never forget that moment.

To get back to last night and my morning letter to God, I asked God to allow me to be a blessing to someone that day. He usually does, and last night was no different. It was raining cats and dogs. My wife and I were on our way to dinner. We saw a skinny little girl with long hair, flip-flops, a McDonald's uniform, and an umbrella. She looked like she had a long way to go. My wife and I turned around, went back, and asked if we could give her a ride. She jumped into our car and said, "Thank you. No one has ever done anything like this for me. You are such a blessing to me." She kept repeating that during the drive.

I hadn't seen her working at McDonald's before and I haven't seen her again since that night. I am smart enough to know from that day in the men's room that we were the blessed ones that night in the rain. Thank you, God.

What Would Grandpa Spear Do?

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Grandpa Spear was a quiet man. Even though he never saved any damsels in distress, set any records, or caught any bad guys, he was a hero. His eyes always had a gleam that warmed your soul and made everything all right.

When I was young, I would go to his camp as much as possible. It was a special place on a quiet pond back in the woods. We'd fish, and when the bullheads were biting, you could catch one after another. The bullhead were very small, but the meat was so sweet and tender. I think the bullheads in Sterling Pond are like life: sweet and tender if you taste. Yet, they also have horns that can stick you. You must respect that and handle them carefully.

From the way he handled life and bullhead, I could tell Grandpa Spear always knew this. After we would get a bucket of fish, we would put our poles away and go into camp for the "cleaning of the fish" ceremony. I call it this because it was always the same. Grandpa would stand bent over the sink in the tiny little kitchen and clean the fish while Grandma and I sat at the kitchen table and teased him about what a good job he was doing. This would always get the same reaction. Grandpa would threaten to make us do it. Knowing Grandpa, we were not too worried. We knew he loved doing it for us as much as we loved teasing him about it. When the fish were cleaned, Grandma would roll them in cracker crumbs and fry them in butter. I would eat them as fast as she could get them out of the frying pan. Grandpa would always say he didn't want any, but we knew he really wanted to save them for us.

As I grew older and discovered teenage girls, fast cars, and drive-in movies, the times at camp became less frequent, but the memories are something I will always have. Sometimes I close my eyes and swear I can still smell the bullhead cooking, see Grandpa smiling, and smell the cleanliness of Grandpa's flannel shirts that I used to wrap up in to protect myself from the night air at the campfire.

When life gets a little hard, I sometimes wish I could go back to the safety of those times. I think Grandpa knew those days would come when I was older because he gave me more than childhood memories on Sterling Pond. He taught me more than how to catch bullhead, which side of the tree the moss grows on, and what critters made sounds at night. He taught me integrity by having it. He taught me about helping others by always unselfishly doing it. He also taught me the importance of sticking to our values by never wavering from his own. Grandpa never made any big speeches — just small statements of action.

I thank God for Grandpa Spear and my times growing up on Sterling Pond. I know I am very lucky to have had those times, and I hope someone in your life has given you the gift of the same times and lessons. If not, I am sure Grandpa wouldn't mind if you do what I do when you are faced with one of life's important decisions.

When all else fails, pause for a minute and ask, yourself the question. "What would Grandpa Spear do?"

Freckles, Pigtails, and Dreams

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The innocence of our youth! When dreams are free and anything is possible. All the I-want-tos: I want to be a policeman. I want to be a fireman. I want to be an astronaut. I want to be a nurse, doctor, or writer. Better yet, I want to be a movie star. We can dress up and play any role or travel anyplace we want in our minds. No one told us not to be silly.

The problem started when they thought it was time for us to learn about the real world. It all started in kindergarten. All of a sudden, our coloring had to stay within the lines. Well, I decided I was going to be different. They said, "You can do this. You can't do that." And it didn't really fit my way of thinking. I was a free spirit with a mind and dreams of my own. If I wanted to grow up to be a fireman, what did that have to do with the alphabet? And what if I wanted to be a movie star? I had all the schooling I needed. I could practice all day at home. In the morning, I could be a cowboy, and in the afternoon, I could be a policeman.

Well, I made it through kindergarten all right, but when first grade came, I had had enough of the real-world stuff. This was someone else's real world, not mine. My dad would drop me off in front of the school, and the rodeo would begin. I was the wild mustang that needed to be roped and tied. Dad would drop me off at the front, and I would run out the back door as fast as my little legs would carry me! The teachers, I still believe to this day, thought I would give up easily, but no way! School was not my idea of how I was going to spend my...