Imagine

Imagine there's a heaven

It's easy if you try

And you don't get to go there

It makes me want to cry

Imagine all the people

dying in the world today

They a a a a they all need themselves a Savior

and you know there's only One

Someone who truly loves us

God's only begotten Son

Someone whose given

His    pure   life    for    yours

Oh oh oh oh

Oh you can try your hardest

to love your fellow man

Place flowers in a rifle

and lend a helping hand

And you may try to do it

all   on   your   very    own

Oh oh oh oh

Oh we all need a Savior

and you know there's only One

Someone who truly loves us

God's only begotten Son

Someone whose given

His    pure    life   for    yours

Oh oh oh oh

You may say that I'm a dreamer

but I'm not the only one

Come and know my Lord Jesus

So the world can be as one

Names

One of the people scheduled for me today was listed as Gage Wing Wing so I was quite surprised when the person showed up and he was not Chinese.  Young Mr. Wing was white but the listing of Wing Wing was an error.

I thought it was an error when I noticed earlier this week that someone had the first name XYZ, middle initial Z and the last name was Dutch.  Little blond, blue eyed XYZ arrived.  I introduced myself and then never used her first name, not quite sure if I should call her X Y Z, which seemed a bit awkward, or if I should call her Exwhyz, which would have embarrassed both of us if I was wrong.  Although I was dying to know why her parents had their grand idea I figured that she had to endure the confusion of her name forever so I gave her a break and didn't ask.

I also didn't ask the young man whose name was Mountain Whinery the origin of his moniker.  It would be kinda cool to see a big, raw bone and bearded lad climb out of his pick up truck but the kid was a skinny 5'3 and drove a Volvo.  His dad got out of the car, promptly went over and sat on our white plastic chair and played with his phone until we returned.  "I passed" said Mountain to his dad.  "Way cool" his dad replied.

Usually names are a dead give away for me to know what to expect before the person shows up.  About half the people in Vietnam have the last name of Nguyen, so that's the way the win blows there.  About 100 per cent of people from Punjab have the last name Singh and wear a little turban.  There was a Hispanic women last week whose first name was Doreteo.  Hopefully her chips will play better when I retest her tomorrow.

People from India have names like Rameshkumar Venkatachalam, a test subject last week.  "Call me Ram" he said, and I complied.  Hispanic people often have 4 names with hyphens in between but many countries apparently don't believe in middle names which I find somewhat disturbing.  Still trying to figure that one out.

A young black college student came today.  He was 6'7" tall and his first name was Aron.  Right off I remarked that if he played for the NY Yankees people would call him A Ron.  Aron responds, "Hmm, really?"  Not a baseball fan I guess.

OK, let me check my schedule for the rest of the week.  Last name Walker, black.  First name Doreteo, Hispanic, first name Phu, Vietnamese.  First name Chase, white.  Last name Diaz, Hispanic.  First name Jaliva, black.  First name Madison, white.  First name Nicole, last name Dutch, white.  First name Milagro, Hispanic.  First name Lyric, last name English, white.  First name Van, last name looks Indonesian.  First name Drew, white.  First name Brian, white.  First name Phong, Vietnamese.  First name Santhosh, Indian.  Last name Reyes, Hispanic.  First name Jesus, Hispanic (this is a retest.  Yes, I failed Jesus!)  First name Danielle, last name Dutch, white.



  

You Know The Test Might Not Go Well When . . .

From this week:

You know a test might not go well when the woman waves me over to the car window just before doing a  reverse parking maneuver using our rental car.  "Excuse me sir" says the Chinese woman, who is taking the test even though, according to her instructor who phoned me earlier, she is not ready to drive but her husband, a doctor at a downtown medical center, insists she take the test now because he needs someone to drive him around,  "This car does not want to move."  I look in the car and see that the gear is in reverse so I tell her; "Take your foot off the brake and put it on the gas."  The car jumps back about 4 feet.  My lady does not make it pass the parking lot portion of the test for which I thank God but she asks me as she leaves; "How soon can I take test again?"

You know a test might not go well when an 18 year old young man arrives with his mother and I thought at first his girl friend but later on realize that it was his sister and he freaks out when I ask for his permit.  "My permit!  I forgot my permit!" says Greg.  His sister calmly informs Greg that his permit is in his wallet.  "Where is my wallet?!!"  His sister calmly informs Greg that his wallet is in his coat.  "Where is my coat?!!!!!!!  His mother calmly informs Greg that his coat is in the back seat of the car.

"It looks like you need women in your life" I say to Greg to which he responds; "Women!  All they ever want to do is shop!"  Then actually stomping his foot on the ground Greg declares; "And all I want to do is to go bowling!"  We do the paperwork (his mom hands me the registration and insurance) and then begin the parking lot portion of the test.  As Greg sets himself up for the reverse parking he puts his car at a funny angle and then, without being instructed to, gets out of the car.  "What are you doing Greg?" I ask.  "Oh, I don't know.  Just stretching my legs I guess."

Greg gets back into his vehicle and actually passes the parking.  At the first left turn on the driving portion I have to keep him from turning left in front of the oncoming traffic so I start routing us back to go.  On our way I notice that Greg drives with his right eye closed.  A trick he must have learned bowling I suppose.  Greg did not have an explanation at our debriefing at the end for why he drives one eyed and I was going to ask Jackie today if he corrected that little problem but she informed me that today Greg did not make it out of the parking lot.

You know a test might not go well when Songoro signs the test sheet at the beginning and his signature does not match the one on his permit.  Both are one of those scribbly signatures that is more form than name. The permit also says his height is 5'2 and this guy looks at least 5'8.  I ask to see his Michigan ID.  The photo is this guy's and the signature on the ID is exactly the same as what he signed for me on the test sheet and the height is also listed at 5'2.  Sometimes people actually change their signature so I ask Songoro to match on the line above what he did on the driving permit.  When he has difficulty even beginning to do so I ask him to get out of his car and confirm for myself that he is no where close to 5'2.

I end the test at this point, tell him to go back to the Secretary of State and get a permit that matches his, get the usual protest that this is unfair and then Songoro informs me that maybe he will not come back here.  I've had these document conflicts before.  They never come back.    

Love

I know that love can be a cheap word. A movie ends with a guy saying to a girl, “I love you” and then everything is somehow OK. A slogan says “Make love, not war” which cheapens love to a physical act born out of lust. People assure us, “God loves you” and we have heard it so often that both God and love are out there in a void with no connection to reality. So we are cynical.

Yet we do need to hear that we are loved, that someone really cares when we are hurting, that people share our happiness and joys, that one will actually put our needs and desires ahead of theirs, that we are not judged for everything we do.

I've met two women recently who had almost the same stories. They were 21 and 18 years old and had been adopted. One had a birth mother who had children with multiple partners and who kept having children even when she knew she would never raise them. And that women was pregnant again. The other had three brothers and sisters who were mentally challenged and adopted out. But this girl was normal and actually seemed to me to be very bright. She didn't know why she was the lucky one.

Both had mothers who had adopted them, who loved them and whom they loved back. Both understood that they needed to forgive their birth mothers and that the bitterness they had toward them would only hurt themselves. Yet even knowing this they struggled to do so. The one with the challenged siblings had recently contacted her mother for the first time and said that her mother “just lied to her” so there was no sense talking with her again.

A thought then occurred to me. I shared with this woman that perhaps her birth mother never had anyone who would love her unconditionally, who would tell her she was loved without expecting anything in return, who would be there without judging. “Perhaps you can be that person” I said.

Love does not make wrong right but it always desires the best for us. It hurts when we hurt. It aches when we fall short. But it gets it's reward when we trudge through the mud and achieve those little victories.

There is One who loves you, Who wants the best for you, Who loves without conditions. He sent His only Son to die for you even though He knows that you are a liar and a rebel. You have done and can do nothing to earn that love.

His love will change you if you only soften your heart so it can go where you were always destined to go. His love will mold you and heal you and strengthen you to endure all of life's challenges. After all, you are not alone. He loves you.