As I Recall

Short Devotionals from a Long Career

Guys, this is the Best Day of My Life! (Galatians 6:9-10)

 I was managing a group of highly experienced and highly technical sales representatives operating across four states in the Midwest. We were a tight group with strong interpersonal relationships but were located in half a dozen different cities. I wanted us to get face-to-face for team building. Stretching my marginal budget authority I planned a three-day sales meeting in El Dorado, Kansas. Not exactly a hot spot for corporate conferences, but it suited us on this occasion. The guys from Oklahoma and Arkansas could travel by company vehicle; the Kansas fellow was local, and the St Louis people had little choice but to fly.

To crimp the budget down we stayed at an inexpensive local motel; they let us use their modest conference room (tattered furniture, threadbare carpet, uncertain HVAC) at no charge.

To more-or-less justify the expense of bringing the group in, I invited a local customer, Rod, to meet with us and present an hour-long discussion of his perception of doing business with our enterprise. He was honest but fair and I knew he would give us a good assessment. It was a worthwhile conversation, and we all came away the better for it.

Rod was also an avid shotgunner, and it played into my ulterior motive.

We all have ulterior motives, and sometimes it’s best to come clean with them.

The El Dorado motel was a 20-minute drive from our family’s recreational Flint Hills acreage. The farm was small, a quarter-section including our land and that of a close neighbor, making the total available area a little under a half-mile square. It boasted a few tillable acres of crop, lots of open pasture, and – the big attraction – a dry creek bed lined by a considerable stand of oak trees that ran east-to-west through the middle of the land.

The group traveled in Wednesday morning; we met that afternoon and the following morning, and around noon on Thursday we adjourned to the farm for outdoors team building. My neighbor and I had three Arctic Cat ATVs; two of the attendees brought trailers with a total of five ATVs. That made eight machines, exactly the number of our party, including Rod.

Some hiked the trees looking for deer sheds and we all practiced a little clay pigeon shooting with shotguns – an especially entertaining diversion for one of the city slickers attired for the farm in neat slacks and penny loafers, and who had never held a firearm of any kind. But everyone was looking forward to running the forest trails on the ATVs.

Rod himself was a champion shotgunner, having spent years hunting pheasant and quail, both plentiful in Kansas, and competing in trap shooting events.

He was also a paraplegic, confined to a wheelchair since a high school car wreck.

Rod drove a mid-size pickup and was expert at flinging the driver’s door open, deploying his folding chair from behind the seat with one hand and levering himself into it with ease. His upper body strength was more than impressive.

When the four-wheelers came out, he gazed at them with longing. I wasn’t sure how this would work, but I suspected he was enough of an outdoorsman that he could guide us.

He saw that one of the visiting bikes was a Polaris. “Does that one have an automatic transmission?” he asked.

The owner replied. “Sure does. No foot controls required. You want to ride that one?”

Without apology, Rod seized upon it. “Absolutely!” he said. Then to two of us, he added, “Just lift me up and set me down astraddle of it.”

We hoisted him, one on each side, carrying him to the Polaris and positioning him in the saddle. He beamed, turned the ignition key and fired it up.

The group rode for the next hour, singly or in smaller groups, exploring the limits of the trees and pastures. Later, one of the Oklahoma boys grilled steaks for us, to go with grocery store potato salad, bottled water and baked beans warmed over the fire. I made peach cobbler in a Dutch oven.

When we pulled Rod off the bike, he was nearly overcome with emotion. While he occasionally got to spend time afield, and he loved it, very rarely did he have the opportunity to roam freely in easy company like this. That Polaris made all the difference, because it could be operated with hands only, no footwork required.

When Phill and I put him back in his wheelchair, he was close to tears, as we adult men are from time to time. “Guys, I want you to know,” he said, voice breaking slightly, “this has been one the best days of my life!”

The two of us each looked quickly away, suddenly interested in some distant distraction that hid our faces from one another.

It was indeed a good day.

Theological Contemplations

Sometimes we find ourselves in a position to do something good for someone else. Most of our days are rightly taken up with providing for self and family and serving our employer or our customers. But on occasion, we can offer service to someone completely outside our envelope. This event with Rod was one of those times.

We didn’t have to invite him – or any customer, for that matter. But we liked him, we knew he would fit well with the group, and we figured he had only limited opportunities like this one. (He also had a very sweet 12 gauge. It was a pleasure just to see him use it.)

The apostle Paul urges us to seek out situations like this to serve others. Selfless service is the mark of a mature Christian, and he writes of it in Galatians 6:9-10. Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. Therefore, as we have opportunity, let us do good to all people, especially to those who belong to the family of believers.

Do good to all people… that week, it started with Rod.