CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The next several days were filled with excitement. News about Elmhurst’s long lost hero spread quickly. Everybody wanted to see him and talk to him. Of course, they couldn’t see much of him without seeing his shadow, Arthur Hollis, as well. And, some of them didn’t get a chance to talk to Tom because they had to hear Arthur. Most folks didn’t mind, though. The two of them made an interesting couple to be around. One thing for sure, Arthur did not mind being the center of attention, even if he had to be standing next to his grandfather to get it.
Finally, Sunday morning came and Elmhurst Christian Church was buzzing with excitement. They had an overflow crowd and had to put extra seats down all three aisles. Some estimated that more than 1,000 people showed up. For a town of only 5,000 residents, that was a pretty good turnout.
By the time eleven o’clock came around, it took the worship leader three or four extra minutes to get everyone seated so they could begin worship. Tom was sitting in a reserved seat next to the aisle on the very first row. And who was that sitting next to him in his Sunday suit and hair slicked down? Was that Arthur Hollis? You’d better believe it was.
The worship was great. There was hardly a dry eye as the choir gave the most stirring rendition of God Bless America anyone could ever remember. Then, as the applause died down, the hot guitarist broke into an introduction to Victory in Jesus that brought the entire congregation to its feet as they all sang along with the choir.
Finally, the time came for Tom to give his testimony. Rev. Wallace gave the introduction and then sat down on the front row.
For the first ten minutes or so, Tom talked about his life in Elmhurst. He gave a brief history of his family. He went through his decision to join the army and explained his rationale in volunteering for the dangerous mission that left him with amnesia.
“I don’t know how some of you are going to take what I have to say next, but here goes,” he started as he stepped back behind the pulpit. “Life sucks” he said emphatically and just crossed his arms and waited.
As you might know it, that sent a little buzz through the crowd. The teenagers and the Army Rangers got a big kick out of it. A few guys in the back said, “Amen.” At this point in time, Tom had no idea whether they were regulars or stragglers.
He began in earnest, “Life, itself, sucks. Here is what I mean by that statement. All by itself, life will suck out all of your hope, all of your joy, sometimes your will to live, and sometimes your desire to be good. You try to be a good parent and your kids could drain you empty. You try to be a good kid and your parents could drain you empty. Try to be a good employer or a good employee, the same will happen. You could rattle off down the line with pastor and congregation, school and students, or any combination of things. The bottom line is that life, all by itself, does not seem to be fair.
“Then, you wake up one day in a village in a mountain jungle and in more pain than you can stand, and you look at somebody you don’t know.” With a little twinkle in his eye he quipped, “Come to think of I didn’t even know who I was.” He paused and let a few chuckles roll by. “And I wasn’t even drinking.” He raised his hand and looked around at the congregation and asked, “Know what I mean?” The laughter came on that one.
With a smile he went on, “Life itself sucks a whole lot. But, can you imagine having amnesia? Life sucks but you can’t remember what it sucks about.” That brought an applause mostly from the Rangers. Tom had spent several hours with them Saturday morning at Ed’s bakery. The rest of the town had to come in and listen in shifts.
Tom let the laughter die down all the way. His countenance got serious. “I can think about it but I really cannot say that I have any idea how two of those Filipino children felt. Pedro was seven and Tala was two. A couple of months before I got there the enemy had come in, took their father away to fight for them and beat their mother to death because she resisted.” His voice softened, “Those kids saw that. Some of you, especially you young people think you’ve got it bad. I’ve got one thing to say, and I’ll say it firmly. Get over it. You haven’t seen the bad part of life, yet.” Applause went up and several people stood up. Among them were a handful of teenagers. Tom saw them and gave the thumbs up sign.
“Those two didn’t want to live. They felt they had no reason to live. They kept wandering off into the jungle, hoping they would get killed and eaten by some wild animal. The little girl, Tala, refused to talk. She would walk around with her finger in her mouth and holding on to her brother’s hand.
“Well, there I was, not in the best of emotional shape myself. The explosion didn’t kill me. I couldn’t will myself to die. I didn’t know if I was married. I didn’t know if I had kids. I didn’t know who or where my mama and daddy was. Nobody spoke English but me and the pastor.
“Then, God pointed out Pedro, Tala and several of the other children that were orphans. It seemed like He said to me, ‘They’re without a daddy and you’re without any children. Go be their daddy. It beats sitting here feeling sorry for yourself, doesn’t it?’ You know, that made a lot of sense. So, from then on, I poured love into those children and did my best to help them get through life. And, you know what happened? They began pouring their love into me, and it helped me get through the things life had handed to me.
“Folks, that’s the love of Jesus for you. His love by itself is enough to help you get through the things that life dishes out to you. Then, when you start pouring God’s love into others, God will make sure that people will cross your path that will pour His love back into you. You’ll receive good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over. That is His promise to you.
“When my memory came back, I realized that my family was probably told that I was killed in action. Why should I go back? They think I’m dead anyway. I cried for weeks. Those kids that God helped me pull out of life’s gutter were able to hear God more than I could at that time. They pulled me out of mine.
“Remember Pedro? He was fifteen years old when my memory came back. Since he didn’t have a family, he and Tala stayed with me. He had always been my right-hand man. One day, he told me that he felt that he should accompany the tribesmen as they journeyed to the low-lands to barter for food. I was proud of him for taking on some of the manly duties of the tribe.
“What I didn’t know was that he and a couple of the tribesmen were going to run on ahead of the main caravan’s trading spot to get to the city of Cabanatuan. When they returned three days later, they were escorted by a squad of Army soldiers that had orders to carry me out.
“Pedro led the Army Captain straight to my hut and called me out. With the villagers gathered around him he told me, ‘You’ve healed us with God’s love so we can walk with our heads high. Now it is your turn to go back to America and make your crooked leg straight and your broken heart healed.”
Tom had to stop for a moment to settle down. Many in the congregation had taken out their handkerchiefs. Finally he managed to say, “I want the pastor, the elders and the worship team to come up now. Some of you out there are struggling with the ugly that life has handed to you. I’m here to tell you that you don’t have to struggle any more. God loves you with an everlasting love. And, if you want healing on the inside, you come up here right now and accept Jesus as your personal Savior. Then, find somebody that needs it and pour His love into their lives. He will flood through you like you have never felt before. Won’t you come?”
Before the worship team even got the first note out, a few people had made their way up to the altar. Rev. Wallace, the elders and Tom stood in front of the podium as the invitation was given.
Arthur bowed his head and prayed the best he could. He could hear several people coming forward and praying with the pastor and his grandfather. Then, he felt a tap on his shoulder. When he looked up, there was Ramon with big tears running down his cheeks.
“Arthur, come up with me,” Ramon whispered, “I……I…..don’t know what to say. I need your help.”
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nbsp; Arm in arm they made their way through the others at the altar until they got to Tom. Both were crying so hard that they couldn’t talk. But, explanations were unnecessary. Tom, Ramon and Arthur knelt down and Tom led Ramon in the sinner's prayer. Then, he prayed and talked with him until the joy of the Lord lit up his face.