In the back of the office was a bin for files to be
shredded, and it wasn’t unusual for Mr. Lamlich to make his rounds once a
month.
“Sure thing.”
She smiled and reached over to receive a large plastic
bag, filled to the brim with wrinkled papers.
“This sure is heavy,” she said, and peered through the
plastic.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “If you see anything in there you
like, it’s yours.”
Confused, she tilted her head and ran her fingers over
the thin plastic.
“There’s a Bible in here, Mr. Lamlich,” she said,
puzzled, “that’s a pretty heavy thing to get rid of…”
Without pause, he said, “Well, it was my son’s, and he
died about a year ago, and it just makes me and the Mrs. sad, lookin’ at it,
you know. His name is in gold on the
front, can’t really give it away. Bad
memories, you know. He never read it
much anyway.”
His eyes were wet, and they talked a moment about his
late son. He had worked in construction,
and didn’t lead a very healthy lifestyle.
Blood pressure was high. Just not
a good life.
When they said their goodbyes, she walked back to the
shredder, and peeled open the bag. She
held the Bible in her hands and wondered if it was right to shred God’s
Word. Mulling it over, she decided to
hang onto it for a time—you never know when you could use an extra Bible. The rest of the papers toppled out and into
the canister, but something caught her eye.
Now, if Julie was not known for anything else, she was
known for her planner. Everything in her
life was packed away into pages recording her trials, accomplishments, and even
ordinary day-to-day tasks. So when her
eyes came upon the words Daily Journal,
she stopped, delicately picking up the weathered book.
He said anything,
right? She thought to herself.
On her way home from work, the two items sat in her
passenger seat, and she wondered at the pain of a father who
had lost his only son. At home, she made
herself some tea and cozied up on the couch.
She read through some other books, but, distracted, her mind flashed back to the muddied
pages.
Picking up the journal, she prayed that God would lead
her thoughts.
Neat handwriting lined its pages. Shifting from blue ink to red ink to
green. He never wrote in black. Hospital visits, time in jail, a DUI, job
interviews, heart surgery, medication, not being able to afford medication, his
parents—he spoke of it all. But mostly
his thoughts revolved around his troubled marriage. His wife, Sara.
He wrote about the times they fought, the nights she
would leave him, and spoke of the few times where it seemed their marriage was
healing.
Sometimes he skipped writing for months.
And as the months passed, his handwriting grew wilder and
wilder.
March 17 – Pled guilty to DUI.
April 3 – Had a heart attack in jail,
taken to the med, surgery.
April 6 – Discharged from the med.
May 7 – Took the states offer…Got out of
jail at 8:45 PM.
May 8 – Sara and I spent a wonderful day
together laying around and relaxing. We had several conversations concerning
our past future. There is a lot of love
between us.
May 14 – My insurance
officially did not work. I cannot fill my blood pressure medicines.
June 18 – My blood pressure is still high,
but he let me go home. Lost my job due
to visa card purchases.
June 21 – Sara officially ended our
marriage.
July 28 – I need to move somewhere where
someone would pay me a little attention and show some concern for me.
July 29 – Spent the whole day in the room
doing nothing as I am once again scared sh_tless and have become a
recluse. Was not able to eat anything as
I did not have any money.
August 8 – Wish I would die. I am very depressed and really have no desire
to go on with life. If it wasn’t for my best friend Buckwheat I would not want
to live. I am so lonely I can’t stand it.
His last entry would be in August, his print completely disfigured. She could sense his pain as he wrote the entry.
August 11 – Found out where Sara really was this past weekend..with her boyfriend.
Julie scanned the rest of the journal for anything, but
found nothing. August 11th would be the
last time he would write. At the proverbial
close of his life, she began to cry.
Someone’s words, someone’s feelings, someone's life was written in these
pages. She ached for this man.
Like a work of fiction, there were highs and lows, and
each gave way to hope that he would rebound—come back and that things would
start looking up. But they never did.
Mr. Lamlich’s words came back to her.
He never read it
much anyway.
Her fingers etched over the gold print on unused
Bible. If only he had known love, she thought. True
love.
She remembered when the pages of her own journals were
filled with unpredictable hurt. She
remembered what it was like to be in a dark place, to have lost love. To not want to go on. She remembered the vivid ache, and her heart
stung.
God had been speaking to her lately, almost calling her,
preparing her for a life dedicated to this very purpose. She felt passion rise in her for the homeless,
the forgotten—the lost. She wanted to
save people—and, well, here was a glimpse at the true heart of man who had not
known Him and died not knowing Him.
Save them, He
said. These are My children—the broken, the starved,
the forgotten.
She closed the memoir on her lap, and prayed.
God, bring me
someone in pain, someone hurting. Bring
me someone I can help.
Little did she know just how quickly God would answer her.
Retiring for the night, she opened her laptop to check
her e-mail one last time.
Spam, spam, spam, crap,
crap, crap, she thought.
She was moving so quickly down the screen, she almost
missed his name.
“Hey!” greeted her in the subject line.
And as she stared in disbelief at the screen, it left her wondering
how little of this message was by chance, and how much of it was God’s hand, her
Father Above waiting to see his daughter’s response.
For by grace you have been saved through
faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God (Ephesians 2:8).
For the whole law is fulfilled in one word:
“You shall love your neighbor as yourself” (Galatians 5:14).
But if anyone has the world's goods and sees
his brother in need, yet closes his heart against him, how does God's love
abide in him (1 John 3:17)?
Give to the one who begs from you, and do
not refuse the one who would borrow from you (Matthew 5:42).
