CATCHING POTATOES
by
Voyle A. Glover
I
remember the day like it was yesterday.It was a blistering hot day and my
friend Dave and I were sitting on top of a box car in the middle of nowhere
somewhere in the state of Texas. We’d been sitting there for hours.
The train we’d hopped in El Paso was waiting for another train. There
was no shade and that Texas sun had us squinting as it grew to gigantic proportions
seemingly directly over our heads. We felt like we were its special target
and for respite, we reached into the huge box of ice on top of the box car
and wiped our faces with the cool, melting ice. (We'd pay a huge penalty a
few days later when our lips and face chapped and bled if we so much as grinned.)
While we waited, we broke into the box car we were riding. Inside, there was a veritable treasure trove of hundreds of crates of small, white potatoes. We took a case, slid the huge door shut, struggled our way back to the top of the boxcar with our treasure and began eating them raw. We’d been a day and a half without food and those raw potatoes tasted great.In a few minutes, we'd devoured enough to stop the gnawing hunger and were sitting with our feet dangling into the ice bin on top of the box car that kept the potatoes refrigerated when we saw a train coming in the distance. Our train was stopped on a curve and we could see the other train pretty clearly.
Suddenly, Dave punched me in the arm and said, “Look! There’s a bunch of guys in that one car! Let’s get ‘em!”
Well, I didn’t need any encouragement. We grabbed a bunch of those potatoes, stood up and waited. Dave stood about six feet to my left and I grinned in anticipation as he shook his throwing arm, loosening it in preparation for the most fun pitching he'd ever done.
Pretty soon, that train came whizzing by and in another minute, the box car with the hobos in it came into view. Several were standing in the open door staring out and I saw one point at us just before they got into range.
Whack! Our first volley took them by surprise. I don't know how fast those potatoes were traveling but that train had to be going at least 40 mph, so those potatoes packed a wallop, I'm sure. We were a pair of throwing machines, hurling potatoes as fast as we could. Potatoes bounced off their heads and against the bodies. They were dodging and gesturing at us (with very universal and decidedly unfriendly waves) and cursing us.
We had managed to get them inside the door as well and they bounced against the walls and bodies inside. It was delightful for us. But oh, those guys were mad. They were really hot. Even as they passed, they were leaning out the door screaming obscenities at us. And we just laughed and made some gestures of our own back to them.Dave had his hands on his knees bending over, gasping at the exertion and the convulsive laughter that had fallen upon both of us.
The train was still clackety-clacking its way past us when allof a sudden I spotted something that sent the excitement rushing back.“Hey man, look! There’s somebody sitting on one of those cars back there!” Sure enough, on top of a box car, near the end of the train sat a slim, older (we could see white hair) black man. He was sitting cross-legged.
We armed ourselves once more and stood waiting, grins spread across our faces.As soon as he got into range, we blasted away. Whack! I got the first one on him. It bounced against his arm and once more we were frantically hurling every potato we could as fast as possible.
And then to our astonishment, this old man began catching our potatoes and started eating one. Then he waved and it wasn’t an unfriendly wave, like the other guys had done. It was a genuine wave. He was smiling and gnawing on a potato. In his lap, he’d placed several more he’d caught. As he swept past, we could see him mouth the words: “Thank you!”
The contrast never hit me then. It did later. Recently, I recalled that story again and as I did, I also thought of a man I know who illustrates the lesson of that story better than anyone I know. This man had an experience that would bring up hate, anger, rage and bitterness in most men. He had some things thrown at him in life and would have had every right to be angry and bitter and rage over his plight. But he didn't.
This very unusual man was walking on the soil of a strange land some years ago. He was in the service of the United States of America in a hostile land, a place called Vietnam, a land filled with men who wanted to kill him. Enemies were all around and danger was something he dealt with every minute of every day. On this particular day, he was with other marines on a special detail.
In an instant of time of time, that man’s life exploded into a world of pain, agony and a nightmarish sequence of events. He’d stepped directly onto a land mine. His body fell back onto the ground already wet with his own blood which was gushing from his legs like a fountain as his life ebbed away. He had other serious wounds in his body as well.
There was a quick evacuation by helicopter to a hospital ship. Thirteen surgeries later, three inches remained of his right leg and only eleven inches on his left leg. The blast literally blew away most of his legs. For most men, it would have blown away the rest of their life.
But Tim Lee, the marine, did something remarkable. He refused to give in to bitterness or rage or anger. He refused to give up. But he did one more thing that is most remarkable. Tim Lee also gave his life to God. Indeed, he not only gave his life to God, he changed his service. Lee enlisted in a different army and became a soldier in a different army.
The man who now lives in a wheelchair most of his life, is an evangelist. And not “just” an evangelist. He’s a well known evangelist and has preached to many, many thousands, calling for them to enlist, to join the same army and fight the same war he fights.And he’s good at it.
Tim Lee was a good marine. But he’s a better soldier for Christ than he ever was a marine. He travels constantly, preaching the Gospel of Jesus Christ, calling sinners to repentance and salvation. He is a man to be admired, not merely because he is a well known evangelist or that he is an excellent speaker. He is to be admired because this man took a blow in life that was horrendous and instead of rebelling, instead of bitterness, instead of curses hurled toward heaven and earth, he chose to glorify God. And God then chose to elevate him to a position of service and honor.
Some folks take the rotten potatoes, the hard knocks, the explosions of life and realize they are opportunities to glorify God. No doubt, Tim Lee would tell you, if you asked, that he’d not go through all of that pain and anguish he suffered for a billion dollars. But he would not trade it, either, for it is the event that swept him away from the grasp of sin and into the arms and service of God.
Joseph no doubt would not have wanted to suffer as he did as a slave, wrenched away from family, imprisoned, falsely accused of a crime and abandoned in a strange land with no man to take up his cause. But he came to understand that while it was meant for evil by those who'd sold him into slavery, God meant it for good.
No human wants to suffer. None of us want pain. We shun it instinctively. But it comes to us. It is sometimes a part of our experience in life. How we react to those events that bring us pain is so very important. Will we acknowledge God in our life? Will we submit? Will we hand over the reins of our life to Jesus Christ? Will we trust God? Or will we be defiant? Will be shout obscenities? Will we be bitter? I learned a good lesson from that old black man. It wasn’t about catching potatoes, either.
And Tim Lee has epitomized that lesson.
In all things, give God glory.
The End
copyright 2002 Voyle A.
Glover