"CALL SARAH....a still, small voice"

"Call Sarah!"  When I was walking closely with God, I would often receive this command as I sat at my computer or as I was going about my everyday chores. Sarah and I went to high-school and Teacher's College together.  We were good friends for years.  Our paths separated when she married very young and started a family.  I hadn't seen her for years when I heard the tragic news of her son's passing. He'd had a difficult life and had caused his father much disappointment and pain and his mother years of sorrow and worry.  Of course, she loved her two daughters, but this boy, perhaps because of his lack of self-control and confidence, was her heart. I attended the funeral and was very touched when upon seeing me, she rushed into my arms and sobbed.  

I knew that her son had become a 'believer' a short time before his death and having had a similar spiritual conversion years prior, I wanted to share what I knew to be his beliefs, with her.  Neither she nor her husband was Christian. The only problem was that I almost never saw her.  Perhaps every three or four years we would run into each other.  Our ways had truly parted. 

Several months went by...I found myself thinking about her a lot.  One day, I told the Lord that I wanted to share with Sarah, but I wanted it to be His will, not mine. I went so far as to tell Him that I wanted to visit her home in three days....on Wednesday. "Lord, if You want me to talk to Sarah about You, You'll have to arrange for us to meet.  I don't want to call her.  I want it to be Your will.  You know I hardly ever see her....so it's up to You!"

It was September...and time for the yearly Western Fair.  The Sunday of my prayer, my sister and her friend were going to 'walk around' the fair.  They asked me if I'd like to join them.  Throngs of people crowded the grounds; it was difficult to 'walk around', so we decided to go into the Progress Building to get away from the mob.  As is often the case at fairs, the building was almost as packed as the grounds.  We wandered slowly through the potpourri and plant section, then on to the knitted goods and wood crafts until we reached the stairs that led into the next part of the building. That's when I heard a high-pitched voice yell..."ARLENE!"  I looked in the direction of the voice and there was Sarah!! "Thank You, Father," I whispered, "Now I know it's Your will that I visit her."  The three of us approached Sarah and her husband and said our hellos.  I took her aside and said, "Sarah, how often do we see each other?"  "I don't know...maybe once every three or four years?"  I continued, "I want you to know that this is a little miracle and I would like to visit you on Wednesday to talk about your son.  Would that be okay with you?" She hesitated, "Sure, I guess that would be fine." 

I was thrilled, of course, that He had arranged this meeting and gave thanks!  This was to be the first of many times that He would arrange some sort of contact between Sarah and me. God was pursuing her and used me to let her know that He loved her....so "Call Sarah!"  became almost commonplace over the next couple of years. Each time I heard that in my spirit, I would question..."Is it really you, Father or is it just my imagination?" It would come 'out of the blue'.  I wouldn't be thinking about her, at all..and I would hear it. I learned to heed that command most times, and each time I did, I would call and say, "Hi. I don't know why I'm calling, but I am supposed to call you, and each time she would say, "Well, I know why you're calling," and would proceed to tell me.  It was always a time when she was experiencing great difficulty. "You're psychic," she would say.  "It has nothing at all to do with me," I always responded. "It's God wanting you to know how much He loves you." Once in a while, I would second guess myself.  "It's just my imagination.  I don't want to bother her...it's only my imagination."  I would inevitably hear...several days or weeks later, that Sarah had fallen down the stairs and broken her collar-bone, or that she was quite ill.  Each time, I would regret deeply, that I hadn't done what I was supposed to do.  He'd wanted me to show her how much He loved her, but I hadn't obeyed.  

I was taking a shower one morning when I heard, "Go to Sarah's house NOW!" "But, Lord," I complained, "I haven't eaten breakfast...can I at least eat first?" "NO.....GO NOW!"  I hurried out of the shower, dried off, dressed, and was in my car in no time flat.  I arrived at Sarah's house at 8:45 a.m., wondering why I was there. "She's going to think I'm nuts!"  I knocked softly, thinking she would still be in bed, but to my surprise she opened the door, a shocked look on her face.  "What are you doing here," she asked.  "I was in the shower and God told me to come to your house NOW. "Oh, my gosh!  I can't believe it," she said. I'm just leaving for Toronto.  My daughter is pregnant and the doctor found a problem the last time they did an ultra sound. She's having another one today.  She's worried and I want to be with her."  She asked me to pray for her daughter.  I prayed that all would be fine with the baby and that Sarah would get good news.  "I'll call you when I get home on Sunday," she said.  I didn't believe that I would hear from her, because she never called me, but I was happy to have had the chance to share His love with her once again.  

Incredibly, she did call.  I wasn't home when she did, but she left a message for me on my answering machine.  "Arlene, it's Sarah.  I just want you to know that I am going to be a grandmother.  My daughter is fine and her baby is fine.  I'm so happy...thank you, thank you!"  I hope one day Sarah realizes that it's not me she should thank, it's her Heavenly Father who loves her and wants her to know Him.

Misadventures....Part 5

Funds running low, we decided to take our lives in our hands and hitchhike once again. This time, an elderly British man, David and his "nurse" Carol, a pretty, but plump younger woman, gave us a lift. We were able to relax. There was no mauling, just a lot of pleasant conversation. The gentleman informed us that he would drive us all the way up the coast of Yugoslavia to Austria if we liked.  He mentioned that they intended to make two stops, one in Dubrovnik and the next at the island of Rab.  We jumped at the chance, particularly pleased about going to Dubrovnik.

We arrived at Dubrovnik after a few hours, checked into a pension in the old town and walked to the main square where we were just in time to celebrate Tito, the benevolent dictator's, eightieth birthday.  

The following morning, we continued on our way to Rab.  As we were driving, David mentioned that the place they were going on Rab was, by the way, a nudist beach. Nudist?  We were shocked...a nudist beach...a beach where one removes all of one's clothing?  A beach where there would be men...nude ones...who would be able to see EVERYTHING?  Shelley and I stared at each other, eyes round with shock.  No, no way...we could not go to a nudist beach!  That was just too much to ask.  We'd had to swallow our pride beside the stream in Pec, but that was..well...a matter of life or death, wasn't it? Get naked in front of a bunch of people....uh uh....not on your life.  "Uh....I think I'd feel very, very uncomfortable at a nude beach."  "Me, too" agreed Shelley, "I don't think I can do that." "Nobody even looks at you," said David.  "Wow, I just don't think I can," I said . "Well," sighed David, "I guess we'll have to let you off before we take the road to Rab." "Can't we just wait in the car," asked Shelley.  "No, we'll be there for 8 or 9 hours. If you want to continue to ride with us, you'll have to join us at the beach."

Now, we'd had more than our fair share of molestation during our many hitchhiking experiences and were reluctant to put ourselves at the mercy of any more degenerates....very reluctant, indeed!  We'd become adept at communicating with our eyes and facial expressions and reached the same conclusion without uttering a word...better to suffer a small amount of indignity on a nudist beach than to face what might eventually turn out to be a very real danger.  We both sighed at the same time and Shelley said, "Okay, we'll go." 

Resigned to our fate, we settled back and tried to enjoy the scenery. Approaching Split from high up on the mountain road, we marveled at the heart-stopping view. It was one more in the long list of God's incredible wonders that we'd been privileged to see.  The fact that Split wasn't far from Rab, however, took some of the joy from the experience. More than once our eyes met; the question on both our minds....'What the heck have we gotten ourselves into this time?'

Time passed much too quickly and sooner than anticipated, we arrived at the dreaded site.  The beach was beyond a wooden barrier where there was a sign in several languages, English being the second, "THIS IS A NUDIST BEACH.  ALL CLOTHING MUST BE REMOVED BEFORE PASSING THIS POINT."  David and Carol shed their clothes without hesitation.  They passed the barrier that lead to the beachfront leaving us to wrestle with our anxieties.  We looked at each other and giggled nervously.  Fortunately, we each had a towel to cover our 'embarrassment', but the thought of naked bodies everywhere was not the most agreeable to two shy, Canadian girls.  It had to be done, though.  We couldn't stand there all day....it was getting hotter by the minute, and the idea of the cool sea water was certainly appealing.  "Oh, well...here goes," I said and started peeling off my jeans.  "Crap," breathed Shelley, as she followed suit.  What a sight we were to behold.  Just a week before, we'd been driving scooters around the Peloponnese in Greece and had been wearing shorts and t-shirts so our faces, forearms and lower legs were tanned brown from the hot sun....the rest of our bodies were white as chalk.  Poor Shelley had to suffer one more indignity...her bottom was covered in a heat rash...angry red pimples dotted her derriere.  Oh, the humiliation!  Nothing to be done for it now....it was time to go.  Past the barrier, down the long, stony, winding path to the beach.  

We spotted David and Carol in the distance and made our way towards them, passing smooth, tanned bodies, semi-engorged penises, flaccid penises, wrinkled scrota, enormous breasts, tiny breasts, muscled torsos, sagging bellies, dimpled rumps....were there faces to be seen? If there were, we didn't notice them. Everywhere we looked, fleshly torsos assailed us.  

After an eternity, we arrived at our companions' blanket. To our amazement, 'plump' Carol was a goddess...a magnificent creature...her body bronzed golden...her shape, the stuff of a master's painting. She wasn't at all uncomfortable in her skin; completely at ease, she reclined on her elbows, legs askew. We didn't know where to look!  Meet her eyes...and his.  Don't look 'there'. Wherever we turned there were sights that jarred. "They are just bodies," I found myself thinking. "Relax," said David, noticing my discomfort, "Nobody cares, nobody stares!"  He motioned to Carol and they both stood up and made their way through the soft, brown sand to the water, Carol looking just as wonderful from behind.  Every man and woman within sight turned, and all eyes followed her as she glided to the water's edge.  "Right! Nobody cares, nobody stares," snorted Shelley.  We removed our towels discreetly and regarded each other's skinny, light chocolate-and-white frames...no voluptuous curves met our eyes. Counting to three, we raced for the cover of deep water.