Catch of the Day

by Terri Conlin

Don Hunt and his best friend used to skip school and sneak across a farmer’s land to their favorite fishing spot on the Clackamas River. After one truant day of fishing, the two were caught with poles slung on their shoulders and a gunny sack full of fresh salmon. The farmer had been watching the boys for two years and would have let them fish freely had they only asked.

Twenty years downstream, a realtor took Don and his wife to look at 15 acres on a sweeping curve of the Clackamas River. Don walked the property boundaries and caught sight of a familiar farm. He had just bought his favorite fishing hole. Don’s tackle box and fishing pole lean at the back door of the home the Hunts built on the property, ready at a moment’s notice.

One day in the autumn on his way down to the riverbank, Don was surprised to find a handful of people fishing on his stretch of the river. His first thought was to shoo them away. But he has always considered that, while the land may be his, the fish belong to God. So while his son, Lucas and son-in-law, Robert cast alongside the other anglers, he was content to rest and take in the moment. Because a terrible construction accident still fatigues his broken body, he keeps a chair hidden in the bushes.

One time he noticed two men and a boy a stone’s throw from the others. He knew they were never going to catch a fish in that eddy with the wrong poles. Eventually one of the other fishermen went to give the trio a few tips on fishing. He came back with a heartbreaking story that drifted upstream to Don’s secret chair. The boy’s father explained that his twelve-year-old son had terminal cancer and all he wanted before his death was to catch a big fish. Two professional guides had donated their services to the boy’s dream, but they had come home empty handed. The fishermen stood in silence, poles in the water when Matt hooked the first fish. He looked at Don who had now come to the rocky shore and said, “Go get the kid!” Jose hesitated but, at his Dad’s prompting, he came running and reeled the fish in. Excitement erupted and a broad grin lit up his face.

The air was electric. Rob hooked a fish but lost it, then Patrick hooked a fish and it slipped away too. Don’s son, Lucas got a nibble and called Jose. This time he wanted the boy to play the fish. Jose went home that night with sore arms and his limit in fresh fish. Don couldn’t sleep that night. After fishing this same hole for thirty years, he finally knew why.

For he and all his companions were astonished at the catch of fish they had taken.
Luke 5:9

The Perfect Storm

By Cornelia Seigneur


Gerry Pruyn calls it the Perfect Storm.

“We all were able to do what we needed to do. We had the worst storm in 40 years with so much snow and on top of that, it being Christmas and we hardly had enough volunteers and we could hardly drive. I personally broke five tire chains, two on the church’s vans and three of my own.

“Where we weren’t ready on our organization, somehow God provided it.”

Some volunteers were there 12 of the 15 nights.

“One of the ladies was brand new to the church. I had just met her at the singles group, and I put her in charge of food. She was the perfect person for that job.”

On Christmas, Papa Murphy’s had donated six pizzas and Rolling Hills housed 14 people. “We prayed over the pizza and we had enough pizza for two nights. If God can multiply loaves and fishes, he can multiply pizza.”

During the 20 days of the perfect storm, another miracle came in size 33 pants.

“A man needed a pair of size 33 pants and I was really tired and needed to get people home. There were 50 bags of clothes to go through, and I did not want to go through 50 bags of clothes looking for a pair of size 33 pants. So, I prayed that God would help me find a pair of size 33 pants, and at the top of the first bag I opened I found a pair of pants and guess what: they were size 33.”

People do not realize there are homeless people in the suburbs. During those 20 cold days, there were 100 individual homeless people in the 10 church homeless shelters in Washington County, and Rolling Hills housed 20 of those people.

“One of the reasons we are doing this is because there is nothing out there for homeless singles in the suburbs, specifically Washington County,” says Gerry.

“At the end of two weeks (and we saw some of the men for 15 straight days), some of our homeless guests really became changed. They became great friends of ours, and we see them now in downtown and in Tigard. We are trying to get them jobs and one of our team leaders, Gregg Creighton, got one of them a job for a day.”

“We are trying to be more than just a warm place to stay and offer warm meals. We want them to feel we care for them as human beings. So many people do not look at them eye to eye. Some of these people are living in tents. We give them a warm meal and watch movies with them, and we just come along side and talk to them and discover their stories. We are showing them Christ without hitting them over the head with the Bible.”
-------------------------------------
Reach Gerry Pruyn at g.pruyn@verizon.net
Reach Cornelia Seigneur at www.corneliaseigneur.com

Nothing is Impossible

by Terri Conlin


Judy Miller is a willowy brunette who sings in church on Sundays, but her song of hope carries beyond the walls of the sanctuary. Often you can find her downtown serving Portland’s homeless youth. Her heart for the homeless is a rare note of harmony from a childhood of discord.

As a little girl Judy helped around the house, played piano and completed her schoolwork on time. Even so, she remembers running from the fury of her pastor-Dad and hiding her little sister in the closet. The swinging leather belt with its bruising buckle always found its mark.

This summer Judy seized an opportunity to take her music to street kids at Royal Ridges Camp. Despite severe allergies, she spent three days in the woods, slept in a moldy cabin and mingled with homeless kids around a smoking campfire. For three days, she was allergy free. One night after devotions a young man sat alone on a log around the fire. While her sad story is not her first choice for conversation, this night she shared it with Nathan. He was stunned. He was living on the street as a result of a childhood similar to Judy’s with the haunting fear of becoming his own abusive father. Until he heard a new song in the timbre of Judy’s life, Nathan thought he was simply keeping time until the inevitable refrain repeated.

Judy sang to Nathan a medley of forgiveness, hope and a ligature of love. At 22 she had approached her Dad in overtures of truth and mercy and while he owned nothing and didn’t ask for it, she left him with forgiveness. This marked her life with a Christ-clef and changed the key of all notes to follow. Judy met and married Todd, her perfect duet. Still, parenting two little ones revealed Judy’s deep childhood scars which Todd soothed with a patient and tender heart. It was music to her soul. Nathan listened in awe to the tinkling sound of chain breaking free. He left the campfire that night asking for prayer.

The next morning Judy awoke to birdsong. Nathan desired the melody of Judy’s life for his own. He was one of seven homeless kids baptized in the river that summer day. Today Nathan sings his own song of impossibilities. He is a clean and sober church-going man living in a house with a steady job. He is lit up from the inside by the conquering love of his Savior and more recently his fiancé. He and Judy just celebrated their close-together birthdays with new shoes for Nathan. His walk has a new cadence, his heart a new beat.©

He has given me a new song to sing,

a hymn of praise to our God.

Many will see what He has done and be amazed.

They will put their trust in the Lord.
Psalm 40:3

Judy is the new coordinator of the clothing closet at Transitional Youth.
Contact Terri at whitepitchers.com