When Tomorrow Comes

A woman who clawed her way to fame and fortune by becoming ‘the human Barbie Doll’ spent $42,000 on 27 plastic surgeries. She is dead at 31.

Global basketball icon Kobe Bryant died in a helicopter crash in 2020, at age 41.

TV icon Steve Irwin died in 2006, at 44, after he was stung by a stingray.

Princess Diana died in 1997, at age 36, in a vehicle crash.

Actor River Phoenix died in 1993, of a heroin overdose. He was 23.

Musician Kurt Cobain died in 1994, from a self-inflicted gunshot wound. He was 27.

They chased tomorrow. Tomorrow came. Youth, beauty, fame, riches—nothing kept them from death.

Nor will wisdom, education, and learning defeat death when tomorrow comes.

Karl Patterson Schmidt, 67, was a world renowned herpetologist. He had handled thousands of snakes over forty years and traveled around the world presenting lectures and identifying snakes. He excelled in wisdom, education and learning.

Schmidt was contacted in 1957, to identify a small, colorful snake that no one else could identify. When he saw it, Schmidt immediately knew what it was; a juvenile boomslang, deadly in adulthood but usually harmless as a juvenile. The snake’s fangs were located in the rear of its mouth and its mouth couldn’t open wide enough to inflict a bite on a person—so Schmidt calmly explained as he handled the venomous reptile. The snake bit Schmidt. Twenty-four hours later—he was dead.

The popular cliché “tomorrow never comes” is false. Tomorrow comes. So does death.

Nothing we can accomplish in this life on earth can stop tomorrow. Beauty will not paralyze it. Money will not purchase relief from it. Fame will not faze it. Knowledge, wisdom, and education will not outsmart it.

Our victory over tomorrow is to outlast it by living for God so that when tomorrow comes it brings the sweet victory and relief of heaven with it.

“And this is the testimony; that God has given us eternal life, and that life is in His Son Jesus. He who has Jesus has life; he who does not have the Son of God does not have life.” 1 John 5:11.

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Leaving Something Behind

None of us will get out of this life without walking through the shadow of death. Shadows, thankfully, are not real. They have no power to hurt us.

When that shadow looms before us we have a choice to trust God or to fear. Some people go to unrealistic lengths to outrun the shadow or escape it—but the shadow advances.

Most people want to leave something behind before passing through the shadow of death. Something that will memorialize the fact that they once lived and walked and loved on planet earth.

My father wrote four books in his lifetime—anti-Christian, anti-God novels. I love writing. All I ever wanted to do since childhood is to write books. Once I became a Christian I wanted to write at least four books to counterbalance his atheistic diatribes. I write Christian mystery-romance-suspense books. I’ve written 45.

My father’s books never sold well and are now out of print. My books are all available and continue to sell—albeit slowly. Writing for me has been a lifetime of detours and delays…because no matter how good you are at it or how many books you write—writing books does not make money unless you are well known…and I like to eat.

My dream, my mission, my goal has been to write books. But writing books is not the only way to leave something behind on this side of the curtain of death. Scottish school children at St. Mun’s Catholic School here in Dunoon designed artwork for a metal fence along one side of their school; life along the River Clyde. It’s brilliant. It highlights the aftermath of WWII, ship building, friendship with the US, the US Naval Base that came to Dunoon in the 1960s, and wildlife along and in the river. A metal sculpture artist cut out the designs and welded them to the fence. For some sixty years that lovely fence has celebrated life in Dunoon. It continues on this side of the shadow of death in spite of the creators, artists, and dreamers who have passed through the veil to the other side.

Life here is temporary. Only God is eternal. We can all leave something behind on this side of the shadow of death even if it’s merely the memory of our smile.

“For the things which are seen are temporary, but the things which are not seen are eternal.” 2 Corinthians 4:18.

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Mysteries

I love mysteries. That’s why I write them.

One of my recent blogs showcased a mystery about the “angel bus.” I was in downtown Inverness waiting for a city bus that never came. The overhead sign kept promising the bus would arrive—but it never did. It was freezing with sleety rain and my fingers were numb and throbbing even inside gloves. Finally an old white bus with no city markings and no lettering at all limped to a stop in front of me and the door opened. When I asked the driver if the bus went to the retail park, he said, “If that’s where you want to go.” I got on the bus. It was empty. Momentarily, I thought I had been kidnapped, but quickly dismissed that idea. I’m too poor to garner a ransom. The old bus deposited me at my location. I’ve been back to Inverness several times since then. I have never seen that bus again. To me, it will always be an angel bus.

Now the mystery of the angel glove—or more aptly—the glove that an angel returned. This close to Christmas, with extra services and visiting, the last thing a pastor has time (or money) to do is rush into the city to buy a pair of new gloves, yet one of Alan’s gloves was missing. We hunted for it in the house. We crawled around on our hands and knees searching the car. We walked the cement slab path between the car and the house several times. We looked under the rosebushes. No glove.

Yesterday, after several days of vainly pursuing said lost glove and trying to figure out a good time to go into town to buy a new pair before the forecast winter weather mix hit—we found the missing glove. In plain sight. I was returning from handing out Christmas cards and cookies when I spotted the lost glove right beside the cement slab path where we had searched so diligently. We use that path several times a day.

Doubters will claim that neither Alan or I are getting any younger and that at our age, the eyes can fail. Doubters will claim that it’s a busy time of year and we were just too rushed to look as conscientiously for the lost glove as we thought we had. If doubters are happy walking around under their weight of normalcy, that’s fine. But I love mysteries! I love solving mysteries. My solution to this mystery is that the glove was indeed lost. Alan had accidentally dropped it somewhere between our house and Inverness. God realized our low ebb of money and energy—and He sent an angel to bring it back to us.

God loves His human creations so much that He intervenes in their daily lives to bring them joy. He sent Jesus to us as a gift for eternity and the angels sang over His birth with joy. Our Christmas glove brings us joy. I have my angel bus—Alan has his angel glove.

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Broken…

Broken, shattered, splintered, smashed, disintegrated, destroyed – my exploded world on November 17 last year when my son USMC Major Luke Parker died in a plane crash at age 37.

A newspaper reporter interviewed me about my newest Christian mystery-romance-suspense book, Bridge Beyond Betrayal. “I see that the book is dedicated to your son and includes the prophetic poem he wrote a year before his death. You seem to have been close to your son. How did you get over losing him?” she asked.

I haven’t. I didn’t. I won’t. Memories play over in my mind like a DVD with no off switch. His smile. He always had a smile – even in photos his buddies took of him in war zones.

His faith; praying for a truck as a four-year-old because we were without transportation and I lacked enough faith to pray – the Lord gave us a truck the next day. The time the truck got stranded in the Nevada desert and Luke prayed, then insisted that the man who came out of nowhere to help us was an angel. I disputed that. Until we attempted to take a thank you card and some home-baked cookies to our rescuer. We never found him, nor did we find a house, a driveway, or even a dirt trail that explained how he had reached us.

His kindness. Luke’s animal rescues included a one-legged raven; a three-legged dog; a one-eyed possum; and a mentally challenged possum that lived in the closet and used a litter box because it wasn’t smart enough to figure out how to get out the open door. His people rescues. The way Luke stood up to bigger and older students who bullied younger students.

His determination. From starting out in life with hearing loss, a speech impediment and learning disabilities, Luke went on to learn and excel at everything that he wanted to do; playing a trumpet, playing a piano, scuba diving, rock climbing, training horses, flying airplanes, restoring WWII jeeps. He got a college degree in spite of his weakness in math. He went into the US Marine Corps as enlisted and worked his way up to major.

I’m most proud of Luke because his men in Iraq wrote in the newsletter that they respected his Christian example and added, “No matter what we do, we can’t make Captain Parker curse – not even when we hide his gun.”

I’m most proud of Luke for refusing to drink with other recruits in basic training. Already drunk, they threatened him with a knife. He crawled into his bunk, pulled the sheet over his head and ignored them. When he woke up in the morning, his mattress was slashed all around his body.

I’m most proud of Luke for the worn, highlighted, underlined Bible that went everywhere with him.

I’m most proud of my son for walking with God. And because he walked with God, I know he is not dead. He left the USMC to report to duty in Heaven under his Commander for all eternity – Jesus.

So, no, newspaper lady – I’m not over losing my wonderful son. But I will not sorrow like those with no hope because I know Luke lives still and I will see him again. Jesus is in the business of fixing the broken and restoring wholeness to shattered lives and hearts.

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Mother’s Day – Don’t Leave the Kids Behind!

The most exciting event of my life occurred on Mother’s Day when my son was four. Count Your Many Blessings, name them one by one rang out as the invitational hymn and Luke left my side, walked down the aisle, and asked Jesus to come into his heart.

That memory is more important to me than ever on this Mother’s Day as USMC Major Luke Gaines Parker celebrates another day with Jesus and I endure my first Mother’s Day without his cheerful, enthusiastic voice starting off the day with, “Good morning, Mom. I love you! Happy Mother’s Day!”

The magnitude of the decision he made 33 years ago is my peace and hope in a rest-of-my-life without him because it assures me that, just like the Jesus he served, Luke is in Heaven. This separation is painful – but temporary.

Luke gave me a Bible for Christmas in 1992, when he was sixteen. He paid for it with earnings from his first job. Two years later, I gave him a Bible when he entered the U.S. Marine Corps. He carried his Bible with him for the rest of his life, including his six deployments to war zones, and read it nearly every day. Like the Bible he bought me, nearly every page is marked, underlined, or has notes written into the margins. I cherish both Bibles and keep them visible on my desk as constant reminders of how marvelously privileged and honored I was to have a son who walked in God’s Truth.

When I look back to Luke’s childhood, I regret all the things I couldn’t buy for him because – as a single parent – I couldn’t afford them. I regret never having had enough money to take him to Disney Land or on a vacation. But what Luke and I did share is bigger and greater than all of my regrets combined: a love for Jesus Christ Who gave up His life on the cross for our sins so we can spend eternity with Him in a place where there is no death, sickness, dying, sorrow or tears. Wow! Luke’s plane crash on Nov. 17, 2013, wasn’t the end – it is the beginning.

You mothers reading this Mother’s Day blog may suffer the same insecurities that I did as a parent if your finances aren’t long enough to stretch to meet expenses. Don’t fret. More than things you can buy for them, your children need your time. More than expensive vacations and trips, your children need your love.

One of Luke’s most cherished memories was living in poverty in the Nevada Desert in a cabin with no electricity, no running water, and an outhouse for a bathroom. Luke loved it because he could have me – my time and love. Instead of running between two and three jobs to make ends meet, I was teaching him at “home” and spending every day and night with him. He mentioned that as a highlight of his life in every Mother’s Day card he sent, and in nearly every phone call.

Don’t waste time and energy agonizing over what you can’t give your children. If you spend time and love on them and teach them about Jesus, you are a successful parent. The only thing we have here on earth that can follow us to heaven is our children. Make sure they know that Jesus is the Way, the Truth, and the Life. Don’t leave the kids behind!

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