By
David L. Mulherin
Today more then ever I’m haunted by the memories of a little black
book that was given to me for Christmas when I was nine. That Christmas day in
1971 is still very clear in my mind. I have played that day back over in my mind
and it’s still as clear as if it where yesterday.
It’s strange how memories, good or bad, can stay with you for a
lifetime. Those same memories can bring joy or sadness. Sometimes they cause you
to search your innermost being to seek out who you are and where you are bound.
This is one of those memories.
I guess the first thing I need to do is talk a little about that
Christmas day and how it affected my life forever. Picture a happy 9 year-old
boy waking up to a room full of gifts! Gifts for not just me, but also for my
brothers and sisters. Joy comes with each new toy. Excitement builds with each
new outfit. What more could you ask for? However, this was going to be a special
Christmas. Not just because of the gifts, but because my dad’s older sister and
her husband were coming to have dinner with us. Happiness filled the house as we
prepared for their arrival.
I will always remember how long the dining room table was,
especially when all of its leafs were put in. This table was so long that it
took up the entire dining room and living room. When my aunt and uncle arrived,
everybody stopped what they were doing. We wanted to welcome my aunt and uncle.
As my aunt stepped into the room, she announced that she had brought gifts. I
don’t remember what she had brought for my older brothers and sisters. But I
remember clearly what she brought for my two younger brothers and I.
We thanked her as we rushed to open these gifts- that we knew
would bring us joy. But as I opened my gift, my heart sunk. The joy left. How
could someone be so mean as to give a nine year-old boy nothing more than a
little black book? I mean it’s Christmas day! You’re supposed to give a 9
year-old boy a toy truck- not a book! At least that’s what I thought. I did
however remember to take some time to thank my aunt and at least give her a hug.
I took that little black book and carefully placed it in a safe
place, just in case I was ever asked if I still had it. As I got older, I
started going on camping trips with Boy Scouts. Something caused me to take that
little black book on every trip. I always made sure to pack my little black book
so that it would not be damaged. I was always proud of myself for taking the
book with me. But I could never understand why. I think I opened that book maybe
once or twice. But that was all.
As I mentioned earlier, when I was young I took care to keep my
little black book in a ‘safe place.’ As I grew older, I began to carry a larger
version of the same book. Everywhere I went I kept that book. I felt safe
carrying it. However, just carrying the book meant absolutely nothing. But I
still held onto it. As time passed, I grew older and wiser. But still not wise
enough to read this ‘book.’
Then the day came when I finally started reading the book. By
then, more than 20 years had passed. My life was changing, but the changes were
coming ever so slow. In 1986, something happened that started me down a new
path, something inspired by this ‘book.’ But the words of that book eventually
fell on rocky ground again. The change did not last.
Once again time passed. My life was going through an evolving
process. However, this time the change would turn me completely around and make
me a new man. Twenty-seven years of prayers going up on my behalf. For
twenty-seven years the Lord waited patiently for me to hear His soft, tender
voice calling. All because one very special Aunt did the work she was called to
do, work that all Christians are called to do, work that builds treasures in
heaven bringing unspeakable joy.
I spent all those years searching for joy and peace. All that time
I never knew that I possessed the key to unlock the very joy and peace for which
I so desperately searched. That little black book, 3 inches by 4 ½ inches in
size held all of the answers. But I was too proud to think that something that
small could bring me the answers that I sought.
So you see, I am haunted by the little black book not because of
the book itself but because of how for twenty-seven years Aunt Earlene patiently
prayed and waited, trusting in the Lord to deliver. She knew that it would have
to be my decision to accept the Christ. Aunt Earlene did the work God called her
to do. She opened every door that she could, witnessing to me and praying
fervently. Now that I have given myself over to Jesus Christ, and having seen
others moved by Christ, I can tell you that Aunt Earlene was filled with joy
when I called her to tell her of my salvation. There is great joy brought here
on earth. But the joy in heaven is ever greater. The bible says that “all of
heaven rejoices when one of the lost is saved.” (Luke 15:7)
Today, I open the drawer. That little black book is ever so
carefully placed. As I take it out and hold it in my hands, the front cover says
it all. New Testament-Psalms. A bible small enough to carry in your pocket, but
large enough to bring a lost sinner to a saving salvation in Jesus Christ. The
simple inscription says “To David L. Mulherin for Christmas 1971 From Uncle Red
and Aunt Earlene. God bless you.” God has blessed me more then I could ever
tell.
Today, God has blessed Aunt Earlene beyond measure. Today she
received her just reward. The gates of heaven were opened wide. Jesus held out
his hand for her to pass from this world to eternal life with Him. I know in my
heart that standing behind Jesus were all of those that had gone before her,
those that had found a saving relationship with Christ through the work that
Aunt Earlene had done. She is gone from the face of this earth, but the memories
will never leave us. I look forward to the day when the gates are opened for me
as Jesus holds out his hand, knowing that standing right behind Jesus will be
Aunt Earlene with a smile on her face, her arms opened wide and softly saying “I
have been waiting for you.” We will have all eternity to reflect on how a
9-year-old boy’s pride got in his way and how it took twenty-seven years for me
to see the beautiful light of God shining through one of his saints.
As the seed falls from the plant and takes root to grow, so should
the seed fall from me so that it may take root in you. As you allow that seed to
grow, so hopefully will the planted seed of life be passed on so that others
will grow in Christ, laying up treasures in heaven for all eternity. Fight the
good fight, run the good race and win through Jesus Christ just as Aunt Earlene
has done. May God Bless You.
May 21,2003