Thoughts from Mark "Hat" Rackley

If you say, “The Lord is my refuge,”
    and you make the Most High your dwelling,
no harm will overtake you,
    no disaster will come near your tent.
For he will command his angels concerning you
    to guard you in all your ways;
they will lift you up in their hands,
    so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.
You will tread on the lion and the cobra;
    you will trample the great lion and the serpent.

• Psalm 91:9-13

Jacob also went on his way, and the angels of God met him. When Jacob saw them, he said, “This is the camp of God!” So he named that place Mahanaim.
Jacob sent messengers ahead of him to his brother Esau in the land of Seir, the country of Edom. He instructed them: “This is what you are to say to my lord Esau: ‘Your servant Jacob says, I have been staying with Laban and have remained there till now. I have cattle and donkeys, sheep and goats, male and female servants. Now I am sending this message to my lord, that I may find favor in your eyes.’”

• Genesis 32:1-5

“Well said, teacher,” the man replied. “You are right in saying that God is one and there is no other but him. To love him with all your heart, with all your understanding and with all your strength, and to love your neighbor as yourself is more important than all burnt offerings and sacrifices.”
When Jesus saw that he had answered wisely, he said to him, “You are not far from the kingdom of God.” And from then on no one dared ask him any more questions.

• Mark 12:32-34

My heart is in anguish within me;
    the terrors of death have fallen on me.
Fear and trembling have beset me;
    horror has overwhelmed me.
I said, “Oh, that I had the wings of a dove!
    I would fly away and be at rest.
I would flee far away
    and stay in the desert;
I would hurry to my place of shelter,
    far from the tempest and storm.”

• Psalm 55:4-8

Hasten, O God, to save me;
    come quickly, Lord, to help me.

• Psalm 70:1

Boilerplate

I’m Harold Dykstra.  I’m retired, but I go to food bank distributions all over Tracy and talk to people that need someone who will listen to their story.  My time is well spent.  A police lieutenant suggested that I write down the conversations that I had with an angel.  I did not know she was an angel at the time.  The angel, for a little over a year, indwelled a life-sized posable action figure my children bought me, so that I would not be perceived as travelling alone.  And in a way, she was training me for what I do while talking to the needy.  She probed my heart to find out what I believed and how I express love for others.  She changed my life.  Oh, excuse me, angels have no gender, but the angel indwelled a doll named Bountiful Babs.  After seeing the angel in that form for over a year, I cannot see her in my mind in any other form.

This Week’s Question

In the last episode, Babs asked some very personal questions.  The next day, she saved me from getting stuck behind an accident on the interstate again, and then saving the life of an old man.

I had a very successful sales call that morning while Babs sat in the car reading a book.  We had a long drive that afternoon.  We were scheduled at our next stop quite late, about dark.

Babs told me she was extremely hungry.  She had done this before and I found out later that her sudden need to eat, when she is a doll and has no need to eat, was a ruse to keep me off the interstate when a major wreck happened.  We would have possibly been in the wreck.  As it was, after appetizers, a large entrée, and dessert, followed by a lot of conversation, we only got a short slowdown from the remnants of the accident cleaning.

This time, when we pulled into yet another restaurant that was one of my late wife’s favorites, she started talking about all the food she wanted to order.

I asked, “Is this another attempt to get me off the highway when there is about to be another accident?”

“No, Harold,” Babs replied.  “The accident happened a few minutes ago.  It was road rage.  You taught me that term.  The car was driven by a man who was in too big of a hurry.  He was whipping between trucks to get nowhere in a hurry.  The driver of the truck in the right lane did not see him.  He saw another trucker changing a tire on the shoulder of the road.  I have seen you do it, he changed lanes, catching the speeding cars with the tail of his trailer.  That slowed him down enough for the truck in the other lane to catch up with him, crushing the car from behind.  The three people in the car were all killed, along with the trucker who was changing his tire.  As everyone slowed down right at that point, the next truck hit him, not having anywhere to go.  Harold, I see you changing lanes when truckers are parked on the shoulder.  Why do you do that?  If the trucker had not changed lanes, there would have not been four people killed.  And see?  I am broken again.  My eyes are leaking water.”

I looked at the dining table.  “I keep telling you, Babs, that those are tears.  It’s salty water.  I have no idea where it comes from in that you do not have tear ducts.  But as for the truckers, it is common courtesy.  If you have ever been standing on the side of a busy highway when people pass you at a high rate of speed, the wind can knock you over.  And if you are changing a tire, you might not be watching for the oncoming traffic.”

Through her tears, she asked, “How is it common courtesy when the only ones I ever see do that are you and most of the truckers?  No one else seems to care.  Not even the truckers slow down.”

I did not make contact.  “It used to be common courtesy, Babs, back when people cared more than they do now.  Back when people weren’t in a hurry to get nowhere.  Who were the people in the car?” Somehow, I knew she knew.

She began to sob.  We were in a booth, so I slipped in next to her and put my arms around her.

She said, “The driver, his wife, and a baby daughter.  The little girl will go to Heaven, but not the others.  But why?  They were only ten minutes from the destination.  They had plenty of time.”

I told her we would have a little Bible study once we got back on the road.  The waitress gave me some puzzled looks, but I said everything would be fine and I tipped her extra.

As we got back in the car I asked, “Dear sweet Babs, what does Psalms 55:4-8 say?”

She furrowed her brow.  She had the entire Bible memorized, but collecting a group of verses took her an extra second or two.  “My heart is in anguish within me; the terrors of death have fallen on me. Fear and trembling have beset me; horror has overwhelmed me. I said, ‘Oh, that I had the wings of a dove! I would fly away and be at rest. I would flee far away and stay in the desert; I would hurry to my place of shelter, far from the tempest and storm.’ ”

I replied, “Excellent!  We get anxious.  We have been on the road for a while, and we have this split image of what is going on.  We fear what we cannot control, but we feel confident in our own abilities.  So, this tempest and storm of cars and trucks changing lanes can be remedied, at least in our weak minds, by speeding up and getting to shelter, even seconds faster.  It is wrong.  It is reckless.  I used to get angry at the other driver, until you started telling me what problems that other driver had.  Being distracted by a fight with the spouse is no excuse to risk the lives of others, but it tells me that they were not purposefully trying to run me off the road.  I no longer get angry at them. I might be angry at the situation, but I am much less in a hurry these days.  And that is thanks to you.”

Babs still was not satisfied.  “But that man was not protected by the angels.  Where were they in his hour of need?”

I had to think for a few minutes.  She kept looking at the road and then looking at me.  Finally, something clicked.  “Babs, consider Psalm 91:9-13.  You said that the only one going to Heaven was the little girl.  Before you get to the promise of angels protecting you, you have to consider the provision that we must consider the Lord as our refuge.  When I get into a hurry, and I do not rely on God for that moment, what mistake do I make?”

Babs giggled, “You rely on your own strength.  Within what you do, you manage pretty well, but not all the time and God gives you more tests along that wrong path you are taking until you realize the root cause of your trouble is not relying on Him.”

I swallowed hard.  “That was more than I expected, but I commend you on a very thorough and well-reasoned answer.  Ouch!  It hurt a bit, but you are getting to know me quite well.  But tying Psalm 55 with Psalm 91, when we ‘hurry’ to our shelter, where should that shelter be?”

Babs thought for only a second.  Her face brightened.  “It’s not a physical, worldly shelter.  Our shelter is in the arms of God.  Then all those angels are there to protect us.   Right?!”

I laughed, “Now, you get it.  But you also mentioned the tests and trials I get into when God is trying to redirect me onto the right path.  Those can be harmful at times.  Sometimes, the lingering aches and pains provide reminders to not do that again.  You know, taking our eyes off Jesus.  But sometimes, God calls us home.  We all will die.  Oh, maybe not you.  You are ‘other living.’”

Note: Other living is our term for not human, not animal, not even a plant, but living, breathing, thinking, learning, and in the case of Babs, loving in abundance.

Babs giggled. “But the Old Testament does not mention angels very often.  Angel, as a single messenger, but angels not so much.  Why is that?”

I smiled, “Angels is translated as messenger, just as you said.  Two angels came to rescue Lot from Sodom.  They had to herd Lot and his family, so maybe they needed extra hands.  But what about Jacob, when he was about to visit Esau, angels came to Jacob.  This gave Jacob the momentary bravery to send messengers to Esau.  Remember, Esau had given Jacob his birthright for a bowl of porridge.  Then Jacob stole Esau’s blessing.  Esau had wanted to kill Jacob.  Now, with eleven sons and two wives, concubines, servants, and cattle, Jacob is returning home.  But he fears Esau.  What does Jacob do?”

Babs says, “He sends messengers to see what kind of mood Esau is in.”

“Yes, Babs, he sends his earthly angels (angels are messengers) and they return with a strange report that strikes fear in the heart of Jacob.  Esau is approaching with four hundred men.  But remember that the angels had arrived first.  Jacob knew that God was with him.  Jacob set things up to see Esau, placing cattle and sheep first, as a gift if Esau so desired.  Then, he arranged his family, and it showed his partiality to Rachel and Joseph, but even then, he wrestled with God all night long, demanding a blessing, but only getting an injured hip in the process.  But because he wrestled with God, his name was changed to Israel.  But a lot of people miss the point here.  He wrestled with God because he was scared of what Esau would do, and in wrestling with God, he was admitting that his only escape from an angry brother was in the hands of Almighty God.  Angels or no angels, Jacob knew his only hope was in God.”

Babs nodded, “Good answer, Harold Dykstra, I give you a gold star today.”

I looked startled, “I am the teacher here!  I should give you the star.”

She giggled, “You give me so many stars; I cannot count them all.  But why is it a common practice to change lanes for someone on the side of the highway with a broken-down vehicle, but people don’t do it that often?”

I sighed, “We do not love our neighbor enough.  What do you see in front of us?”

Babs squinted, “I see a huge trailer truck.  It is what you call a wibble-wobble, but since there are a total of three trailers, I think it should be a wibble-wobble-wubble.”

I laughed, “But no matter how you say it or spell it, you described a truck.  You did not describe the driver.  Does the driver have a partner?”

Babs squinted again.  “Yes, his wife is in the back seat, lying down, asleep.”

I nodded, “Maybe she needs a nap or it could be she will drive later.  Drivers are restricted on how many hours they can drive, so if they team drive, they can get to their destination quicker and make more money in the long run.  But you first described a truck.  If that is all other drivers see, they no longer see a person or a neighbor.  So, they are one step further away from doing as God commands, to love one’s neighbor.  We should love that truck because inside that truck are people.  When it is just a truck, it is something that is in our way in getting where we want to go.”

We digressed into playful banter and game playing, games that she either won or she let me win.  At least, I felt that to be the case.  It grew dark, my reason for wanting to be in a hurry.  At my age, I feel uncomfortable driving after dark.

I knew a back way to the hotel.  I left the interstate at the previous exit and went down a country road that would take us to the back entrance to the hotel.  I was driving a little slower, since I have difficulty seeing at night and my reaction time is less than it was in my youth.

Babs screamed, “Harold!!”  She ripped the steering wheel from my hands and swerved the car.  I don’t remember hitting the brakes, but my foot was on the brake pedal.  All of this before I saw the man staggering in the road.  When we came to a stop on the shoulder, we were side-by-side with this man who was probably drunk.

Babs said, “He just turned left coming out of the bar instead of right.  We’ll take him to his hotel.”  I was about to argue, but I learned that when Babs used that particular tone of voice, I would never win the argument.

We dropped him off at a very expensive hotel, one my company would never let me stay at.  Then on the way to our hotel, I asked, “Babs, I heard you talking to that guy, but I have no idea what the language was.  Who is this guy?  And how can a guy so disheveled afford a place like that?”

Babs replied, “He is the guy who you would have killed if I had not helped you drive.  He had a key card for that hotel.  And what were we just studying earlier?  Our true shelter is in the arms of Jesus.  As for the language, it was Dutch.  Your name is Dykstra.  You should know at least some of the words in the language.  And Dykstra is Frisian.  Maybe some Frisian words too.”

For sixty years I had people hear my name and start speaking in Dutch.  What Babs and the stranger said was not Dutch.  I think those two knew each other, and they used an almost accident to have a private conversation.

But having Babs as a travel buddy might just be making me paranoid.  She knows what she should never know, and then she asks the simplest of questions.  Maybe it was just a drunk who turned the wrong way trying to walk back to the hotel.  But the best bar in that town was in the hotel where he was staying.

Yet, I cannot complain.  She guided me around a large accident on the interstate, and she helped me not kill someone as we took a shortcut to our hotel.

Credits

In tribute to my wife, whose father was from Friesland in the Netherlands and spoke Frisian, I made the title character Harold Dykstra, but as do most Americans, he only speaks English.  In being around my wife and her relatives, I can pick out Dutch people from their accent.  I have never confused Dutch accents with German accents, but I have mistaken an occasional South Afrikaner for a Dutchman.

And all these conversations remind me of my conversations with my wife.  We would talk about anything and everything.  And most of the time, it sounded like a discussion in a Sunday school class.  But the first half of our married lives, she was trying to figure out what I was talking about.  But after she became a true believer, she was trying to figure out how to become more like Jesus.

And as for the game playing, my wife was very competitive.  She was far ahead of me with game strategy while I was still figuring out the rules.  And she was a card counter.  If the game lasted several rounds of drawing and discarding cards, she could tell you almost every card in your hand, just by process of elimination.  And when someone else won, it seemed she turned that off just for that game.  So, most of us in the family thought we won because she let us win.

And although I wrote this a couple of weeks ago, I feel the Friday the Thirteenth bite within it. When I read it through the first time, I had changed venues without realizing it. I had to go back and write transitional paragraphs to tie things together. And then at the end, the beginning was slightly off in small details. You know, you write a story and as the story unfolds, what you started with is not what you ended with. All made sense when I saw the publication date. Not superstitious at all, but it is funny how Satan can make you think one thing affected the other. I was just having a distracted day while writing. They happen, but this was good fortune. I caught the mistakes.

Soli Deo Gloria.  Only to God be the Glory.