Saved
Stories
Sharing Visions
Divine Revelations, Angels, And Holy Coincidences
"I may have a story for your book, Cheryl." I had just finished presenting at a women's event, and had told the audience that I was compiling this book of Christmas stories. She had been lingering near the table where I was signing books, and I could see she wanted to wait until the crowd had dwindled.
She was in her mid-sixties, trim and attractive, with perfectly-coiffed silver hair and wearing a stylish navy pantsuit. I smiled enthusiastically. "Well, great! Tell me!" I urged.
"No. There are so many women who still want to speak to you -- I don't want to monopolize your time." She leaned close, almost whispering. "When you're done here, could you meet with me in the lounge by the library? It won't take long."
"Okay!" I whispered back with a smile.
After greeting the few remaining women, I left my husband, who had traveled with me, to pack our sound equipment. I wandered down the deserted hallways to the library lounge where she was waiting, as promised.
"Hi!" I smiled, extending my hand. "I'm sorry. I didn't catch your name...?"
"It's Joanna," she smiled back, squeezing my hand. "I appreciate your staying late ... I know you must be tired. But I didn't want to take you away from the others. And ..." she glanced at the door, "I really don't want anyone to overhear."
We sat on the couch. She smoothed her slacks and examined her manicured nails. Looking up, she smiled. "After I tell you my story, you'll understand why I don't want anyone to overhear."
I nodded, trying my best to look understanding.
"Well," she began with a sign. "I've never told anyone this, but I have wanted to. It's not something I'm proud of, but, in a strange way, I'm glad it happened."
I nodded again, my curiosity piqued.
"It happened almost thirty years ago, in mid-December. It was three days before my husband's company Christmas party. I was doing a little shopping, and feeling sorry for myself, I guess. I couldn't buy the cocktail dress I wanted, and would wear an 'old' dress to the party instead. My husband owned his own company then, and business had not been good that year. He felt like a failure, and I was frustrated that he had given all the employees a raise the year before, and yet we were struggling to maintain our current lifestyle. And our lifestyle was a struggle to maintain even in a good year." She smiled wryly. "We tend to live far beyond our means."
"Well," she continued, "as I was Christmas shopping I thought I'd take a peek at the jewelry counter, and I spotted a gold cloisonné bangle bracelet. Not solid gold, probably gold-plated, but with a lovely enameled design. It wasn't terribly expensive, maybe thirty dollars. I certainly didn't need it. But I felt like I needed it --Êneeded something new, just for me. I don't know how else to explain it. I just felt that I deserved that bracelet!
"And ... Cheryl," she looked at me intensely. "I took the bracelet! Just slipped it on, and went about my shopping. I almost ... almost ... left the store with it on. The voice inside me kept saying, 'Joanna, this isn't like you! It isn't right!' But I kept it on, until my conscience got the better of me and I decided to put it back. As I was hanging it back on the display rack, I jumped at the sound of a man's voice. 'So, you decided against the bracelet?' A man in a brown jacket was suddenly standing right next to me. My nerves were completely rattled, but I tried to appear nonchalant as I asked, 'I beg your pardon?' And he answered, 'I noticed you putting that bracelet back.'
"I tried to sound innocent, but I was stammering, 'Yes, well ... I had tried it on, you see ... and I forgot I was wearing it.' He gave me this look, this incriminating look, and said, 'Uh huh ... well, I'm glad you remembered to put it back.'
"I was furious at his insinuation! Oh, I was indignant! As I turned to storm away, he repeated, 'Really, ma'am, I'm really glad you decided to put it back.' This time his voice was soft ... forgiving. It was like he was looking directly into my soul.
"He must have worked for the store's security. He must have seen me take it! I was that close to being arrested for shoplifting!" She held her thumb and forefinger a quarter-inch apart. "And for what? A little bracelet!
"I don't even remember driving home, but when I got there, I just fell through the kitchen doorway and collapsed onto the floor. Just crumbled, my forehead on the floor, and kept saying 'Oh god, oh god, oh god.' Thinking over and over how I could have been arrested, how my reputation would have been ruined, how stupid I was, how angry I was at that security guy ... and at myself. I was just shaking, shivering, repeating in disbelief. 'Oh god, oh god, oh god!'
"Then after five, maybe ten, minutes -- my words took on a different tone. 'Oh, God!' My words became a cry to the Almighty. 'Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God!' I was crying out for forgiveness, asking him to help erase my haughtiness, begging him to come and fill the void that I foolishly thought a new dress and jewelry might fill. But I think I knew, deep down, it wasn't about the bracelet. It was about so, so much more that was missing in my life! I promised him I'd change. I asked him to change me. I was so ashamed, and yet ... an incredible feeling of relief flooded over me. I knew that I was forgiven. Forgiven, not just for the bracelet incident, but for all my sins. My cry became words of humility and gratitude. Words of praise! 'Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God!'
"So ..." she sighed, dropping her hands on her lap. "That's my Christmas story ... not just because it happened at Christmastime, but because it's when Jesus came to me, like he came to the world at Christmas."
"Or maybe the day you came to him," I pondered quietly.
"Yes! Yes -- that's exactly how it was!" she exclaimed. "I came to him and made a promise, and accepted his promise. He saved me from ... myself. Saved me from an empty life. I am so much more ..." She searched for the word. "So much more ... compassionate now. I realize that my weaknesses are no less sinful than those of others who have more 'obvious' faults. I'm not proud of my story, but I think it has a purpose. I don't know what you might want to do with it, but if you think it might help somebody, you can use it however you wish. Maybe you can find a way to make it seem ... interesting."
"Oh, I think it's plenty interesting, Joanna," I said, giving her a hug. "And thank you for sharing your story. I know it will touch people's hearts."
It had already touched mine. It reminded me that we have a great God, who so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son. A Savior who came to us as a humble baby. Accessible, that we might come to him, to receive his promise: of forgiveness, of love, of eternity. Who hears us when we humbly cry out, "Oh, God!"
"If my people, who are called by my name, humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and will heal their land ... Now my eyes will be open and my ears attentive to the prayers offered ... my eyes and my heart will always be there." -- 2 Chronicles 7:14-16 (paraphrased)
"Saved" is originally printed in the book All is Calm, All is Bright: True Stories of Christmas, by Cheryl Kirking (Fleming H. Revell Publishers ©2001). Visit her website at www.cherylkirking.com.
She was in her mid-sixties, trim and attractive, with perfectly-coiffed silver hair and wearing a stylish navy pantsuit. I smiled enthusiastically. "Well, great! Tell me!" I urged.
"No. There are so many women who still want to speak to you -- I don't want to monopolize your time." She leaned close, almost whispering. "When you're done here, could you meet with me in the lounge by the library? It won't take long."
"Okay!" I whispered back with a smile.
After greeting the few remaining women, I left my husband, who had traveled with me, to pack our sound equipment. I wandered down the deserted hallways to the library lounge where she was waiting, as promised.
"Hi!" I smiled, extending my hand. "I'm sorry. I didn't catch your name...?"
"It's Joanna," she smiled back, squeezing my hand. "I appreciate your staying late ... I know you must be tired. But I didn't want to take you away from the others. And ..." she glanced at the door, "I really don't want anyone to overhear."
We sat on the couch. She smoothed her slacks and examined her manicured nails. Looking up, she smiled. "After I tell you my story, you'll understand why I don't want anyone to overhear."
I nodded, trying my best to look understanding.
"Well," she began with a sign. "I've never told anyone this, but I have wanted to. It's not something I'm proud of, but, in a strange way, I'm glad it happened."
I nodded again, my curiosity piqued.
"It happened almost thirty years ago, in mid-December. It was three days before my husband's company Christmas party. I was doing a little shopping, and feeling sorry for myself, I guess. I couldn't buy the cocktail dress I wanted, and would wear an 'old' dress to the party instead. My husband owned his own company then, and business had not been good that year. He felt like a failure, and I was frustrated that he had given all the employees a raise the year before, and yet we were struggling to maintain our current lifestyle. And our lifestyle was a struggle to maintain even in a good year." She smiled wryly. "We tend to live far beyond our means."
"Well," she continued, "as I was Christmas shopping I thought I'd take a peek at the jewelry counter, and I spotted a gold cloisonné bangle bracelet. Not solid gold, probably gold-plated, but with a lovely enameled design. It wasn't terribly expensive, maybe thirty dollars. I certainly didn't need it. But I felt like I needed it --Êneeded something new, just for me. I don't know how else to explain it. I just felt that I deserved that bracelet!
"And ... Cheryl," she looked at me intensely. "I took the bracelet! Just slipped it on, and went about my shopping. I almost ... almost ... left the store with it on. The voice inside me kept saying, 'Joanna, this isn't like you! It isn't right!' But I kept it on, until my conscience got the better of me and I decided to put it back. As I was hanging it back on the display rack, I jumped at the sound of a man's voice. 'So, you decided against the bracelet?' A man in a brown jacket was suddenly standing right next to me. My nerves were completely rattled, but I tried to appear nonchalant as I asked, 'I beg your pardon?' And he answered, 'I noticed you putting that bracelet back.'
"I tried to sound innocent, but I was stammering, 'Yes, well ... I had tried it on, you see ... and I forgot I was wearing it.' He gave me this look, this incriminating look, and said, 'Uh huh ... well, I'm glad you remembered to put it back.'
"I was furious at his insinuation! Oh, I was indignant! As I turned to storm away, he repeated, 'Really, ma'am, I'm really glad you decided to put it back.' This time his voice was soft ... forgiving. It was like he was looking directly into my soul.
"He must have worked for the store's security. He must have seen me take it! I was that close to being arrested for shoplifting!" She held her thumb and forefinger a quarter-inch apart. "And for what? A little bracelet!
"I don't even remember driving home, but when I got there, I just fell through the kitchen doorway and collapsed onto the floor. Just crumbled, my forehead on the floor, and kept saying 'Oh god, oh god, oh god.' Thinking over and over how I could have been arrested, how my reputation would have been ruined, how stupid I was, how angry I was at that security guy ... and at myself. I was just shaking, shivering, repeating in disbelief. 'Oh god, oh god, oh god!'
"Then after five, maybe ten, minutes -- my words took on a different tone. 'Oh, God!' My words became a cry to the Almighty. 'Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God!' I was crying out for forgiveness, asking him to help erase my haughtiness, begging him to come and fill the void that I foolishly thought a new dress and jewelry might fill. But I think I knew, deep down, it wasn't about the bracelet. It was about so, so much more that was missing in my life! I promised him I'd change. I asked him to change me. I was so ashamed, and yet ... an incredible feeling of relief flooded over me. I knew that I was forgiven. Forgiven, not just for the bracelet incident, but for all my sins. My cry became words of humility and gratitude. Words of praise! 'Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God!'
"So ..." she sighed, dropping her hands on her lap. "That's my Christmas story ... not just because it happened at Christmastime, but because it's when Jesus came to me, like he came to the world at Christmas."
"Or maybe the day you came to him," I pondered quietly.
"Yes! Yes -- that's exactly how it was!" she exclaimed. "I came to him and made a promise, and accepted his promise. He saved me from ... myself. Saved me from an empty life. I am so much more ..." She searched for the word. "So much more ... compassionate now. I realize that my weaknesses are no less sinful than those of others who have more 'obvious' faults. I'm not proud of my story, but I think it has a purpose. I don't know what you might want to do with it, but if you think it might help somebody, you can use it however you wish. Maybe you can find a way to make it seem ... interesting."
"Oh, I think it's plenty interesting, Joanna," I said, giving her a hug. "And thank you for sharing your story. I know it will touch people's hearts."
It had already touched mine. It reminded me that we have a great God, who so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son. A Savior who came to us as a humble baby. Accessible, that we might come to him, to receive his promise: of forgiveness, of love, of eternity. Who hears us when we humbly cry out, "Oh, God!"
"If my people, who are called by my name, humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and will heal their land ... Now my eyes will be open and my ears attentive to the prayers offered ... my eyes and my heart will always be there." -- 2 Chronicles 7:14-16 (paraphrased)
"Saved" is originally printed in the book All is Calm, All is Bright: True Stories of Christmas, by Cheryl Kirking (Fleming H. Revell Publishers ©2001). Visit her website at www.cherylkirking.com.
