God Has Been Good To Me

I have always believed that everything that happens in life happens with a purpose, an endless cycle of cause and effect. Whatever we sow today so shall we reap in the future. Not all blessing are easily recognizable especially if we are too busy asking and waiting for our demands on life. Most of the times, the key to contentment is just a simple change of perspective or a conversion to a new paradigm in life.

Let me share to you yet again another inspiring story from the book “Dare to Fail” written by Billi Lim:

“God Has Been Good to Me”

For 25 year I watched him fight cancer of the face. First, just a small speck that began to grow larger, then, year after year, I watched him go to the hospital and have bit more cut out each time. As the years went by, his face was hardly a face at all as more and more was cut away. But always when he returned, with was left on his face, he tried to smile and never once uttered a complaint or seemed to be downhearted.

He was a skilled mechanic and finished carpenter, recognized as the est in all surrounding Ozark hills.

When he did a job he seemed to stand back and survey to see if there was anything left out that could be added to make it as nearly perfect as possible. Then he would see some little place that the averahe person would pass up and he would be touching up this and that. Then when he has done his best again, he would look it over and a smile of contentment would come over his face.

I suspect he often said to himself, “My work will be my face and my life.” I doubt if the often looked in the mirror and noticed that damaged face where each day the cancer bit a mite deeper.

No matter how humble the place he worked in, or how small the job, or how crude the other work around and about, it never seemed to bother him at all. This was his work, and it had to be done right. He appeared never to give a glance at the work of others; a shoddy job done by someone else was not his concern. His work seemed to be all that mattered. Nevertheless, I suspect when the job was done he had an inner sense of pride and joy when he saw how outstanding it was but never once did I hear him boast about it.

As the years went by, he became weaker and weaker, his step was less sure, and his hands did not move with the confidence and speed that he had so characterized him. He was however, no matter what the work or pay, he always had an insatiable desire to do a good job.

The help he was able to get was not able to catch his vision; they thought he was cranky to try so hard to complete each and every detail. So more and more he worked alone. He did not complain or bitterly rail at the inefficiency of the other fellow. He would just appear the next morning by himself with no explanation of the absence of his helper.

During the latter days when he had only the shambles of a face, he would wrap it up in a red bandana handkerchief, leaving only his eyes showing..

When you met him on the street, there was always a cheery greeting. As time went on and he found it more and more difficult to say words, often his greeting would be given with a move of his walking stick. This stick, too, was a thing of beauty, carved out by his skillful hands.

His life seemed to be filled with contentment and peace. I am sure many times he thanked God for those hands and for the fact that they were marred in no way.

He often would be missed about his usual haunts for weeks, or perhaps months, as he would make his journey to the hospital for the surgeon to cut away a little more. Then you would see him again – a bit more gruesome. There would be no complaint, no telling of his operation or pain. He would just quietly go about the work that was always awaiting his return.

In all this quarter of a century, I never knew him to come back with any complaints or mention in anyway about the pain. You would think there was nothing to matter if you did not see his face.

When his days of labor seemed to be coming to an end, his grief concern was that his tools might be in good hands. He sent for me one day and told me that he wished I would find him some young man who would appreciate and properly use them.

When I took a young man to see him about the tools, there came over his face a look of contentment and satisfaction. His work was finished and he was ready to cash in.

A few days before he died I went to see him. He was walking in the yard. His face was nearly completely covered with bandages and only his eyes were uncovered. As he hobbled about the yard he said to me. “I am going to keep young just as long as I can.”

The day he died I went to see him again. The odor in the room was so offensive you could hardly stay there. What was left of his face was a mass of scars and there was really no longer anything to cut away. You could tell he was in great pain and had many sleepless nights. But still there was no word of complaint.

I shall never forget his last words. Ever afterwards they have made me ashamed whenever I am inclined to complain. Still, day after day, they are vivid in my memory.

The words were: “God has been awfully good to me. I have never had any reason to complain.”

If we just open our eyes and see the beauty and blessing God is giving us every day indeed, there is no reason to complain. If we are too busy complaining we lose track of the people we love and lose the few opportune moments that we can share and touch lives.

The character in the story suffered for 25 years and yet for the people around him whom he inspired his life will be immortal. Sacrifice and pain is part of our life it is how we accept and carry our cross that matters. Look what you have and be thankful.

The reason you are here is the same reason why all of us are here – to Glory God with our works and help one another