A MAN CALLED
SEE YOU IN THE MORNING
Jesus said unto her...whosoever liveth
and believeth in me shall never die. Believest thou this?
John 11:25 -26
It was Monday, January 24, 1949. About
noon the telephone at the manse rang. The masculine voice at the other
end had a strange, Italian accent.
"Dis iss Toni Gallupi...Iss Missus
Immediately I spotted an unmistakable
trace of the land of heather and mist behind the "Italian."
"Peter, you goof."
I laughed, recognising one
of my husband's favorite tricks. Often he tried to deceive me with
various assorted accents.
"Kate, How'd you know it was I?"
"Darling, don't you know I'd know
your voice anywhere , anytime?"
"I've just gotten back from giving
the Senate prayer," Peter explained.
"I'll have a bit of lunch downtown,
write a couple of letters, and come home some time between three and
four. Remember, I have a date with Peter Dookums."
Yes , I remembered. Peter's date with
our young son was the promise of a trip downtown which had been fitted
into a busy schedule by a little boy's persistence. One of the engines
in the train set was no longer pulling its share of the load. The two
Peters had long considered the possibility of trading the locomotive for
a new one.
New York Avenue Church had no monopoly
on tradition; even the trains had tradition. The now-decrepit engine was
part of a train set that had been presented to their new minister by a
group of the church men on Christmas, twelve years before. hadn't Mr
Marshall said that all his boyhood he had longed for two things, a
bicycle and a train? the men figured it was a little late for the
bicycle, but they decided that an electric train would make a delightful
The men who gave the present
subsequently enjoyed it almost as much as the minister. Every Christmas
saw a few of them out at the Manse, down on hands and knees on the third
floor, setting up track, testing built-in whistles, building control
panels, talking and laughing, looking a trifle sheepish when they came
back down the stairs. later, when our son turned six and cared not one
whit for airplanes, but developed a little boy's passion for trains, his
father gave him the set for his very own.
On Monday, Wee Peter, armed with all
his well-marked Lionel catalogs, was in the lower hall, patiently
waiting. The green Oldsmobile had scarcely come in sight before he flung
open the door and was out on the porch, Jeff beside him, joyously
leaping and barking, as he always did when Peter came home.
Twenty minutes later, the realistic
worm-driven locomotive tender, with its eight drivers, the crane, green
gondola, and long red caboose were neatly packed in a brown suitcase.
The two boys gaily told me good-by and climbed into the car.
They headed for the Mayflower Electric
Shop down on L Street. The trains were on the second floor up a flight
of long, steep stairs, not an easy climb for a man with a tired heart.
It turned out that the man who handled
the trade-ins was in New York and would not be back for another week.
"Can you give us any idea what we'd
get for this?"
asked Peter, opening the little
The man behind the counter picked up
"Let's see. This is an 072 series
track, isn't it? Well, of course, I couldn't say exactly. probably -
well - maybe about $18."
Wee Peter's face fell. he had marked at
least $50 worth of equipment in the catalog.
His father turned to ask him,
"Peter, how do you like that?
Would it be a good trade?"
His answer was prompt; he was a son
of a Scotsman.
"I don't like it. Cripes - heck
-well, gee-whiz, I'd say we ought to get more than that."
"But you can never get as much as
you think on trade-ins. I doubt if we'd get a better deal any place else."
If you want to come back next
Monday," the clerk interposed,
"you could leave the stuff here,
packed just as it is.".
"Let's do that."
And the clerk handed him a tag to fill
But the next Monday Peter could not
come back. He was never to complete that transaction. As he wrote his
name and address in his neat, careful handwriting, the "P" with its
curlicues, the "M" with its flourish, he would have smiled a slow ,
whimsical smile had he known that even that little tag would some day be
precious to his son. Peter John would cherish that small soiled piece of
cardboard as a reminder of the last good time he ever had with his
father, For although we had no intimation of it then, the strength of
Peter's heart was fast ebbing away.
He had just fifteen hours left.
About three thirty on Tuesday morning,
Peter awakened with severe pains in his chest and arms.
He had only to speak my name once to
arouse me; for some reason I had been lying awake for some time.
"Catherine, I'm in great pain.
Will you call the doctor for me?
Immediately, I knew from Peter's tone
of voice that this was a major crisis. As I sat up and reached for the
bedside telephone, I could hear my heart pounding. The doctor answered
on the first ring, and agreed to come right over.
While we waited for him, Peter lay
there trying to pray, but he was in such great pain that he could
scarcely move his lips. Seeing his effort, I began to pray out loud for
him. Not only did I ask Jesus to take away his pain, but I asked Him to
bring good out of this, our latest difficulty.
"Lord will You overrule all this ,so
that one of these days both Peter and I will have reason to thank You
that even this happened."
It was a strange prayer to make at such
"What good could possibly come out of
this?" Peter asked quietly.
Sometimes in moments of crisis, our
spiritual eyes are open to realities usually hidden from us. After that
prayer somehow we both knew that our Lord, full of love for us both, was
standing there in the room beside us. Almost immediately the pain began
to subside. Soon it was completely gone, and Peter said softly,
"Thank you, Lord,"
"Catherine, you thank
By the time the doctor got there, he
found Peter's condition rather good. He sat by his bed awhile, watching
him closely. Meanwhile he made studied small talk in an effort to divert
Suddenly the pain returned. It was then
the doctor decided that Dr Marshall must be taken immediately to the
Peter frowned , then smiled wryly. "I
take a dim view of that. What a revolting development this is!"
As I stood by the bed, holding Peter's
hand, I sensed his feelings. I ,Too. hated the thought of his being
taken to the hospital. It would be impossible for me to leave our son
alone in a big house and go to Peter in the ambulance. Somehow I could
not even bear to let go his hand. Peter understood, and relayed his own
little secret message of reassurance with his finger tips, while the
doctor was taking his blood pressure on the other arm.
"Is there anything you want me to do
for you -any plans? What about the Senate prayer tomorrow?" I asked.
" Call Mary, but don't tell anyone else
about it yet. I don't want to alarm anyone. They'll find out soon
enough. You might ask Cranny to take the Senate prayer tomorrow."
After the ambulance had gone, I went
upstairs and knelt by my bed. But before I could speak a word. there
surged through me, over and around me , as a great wave, an overwhelming
experience of the love of God. It was as if the Everlasting Arms were
literally enfolding me. It seemed unnecessary to ask God for anything.
I simply gave Peter and myself into the care and keeping of that great
love. At the time, I thought this meant that Peter's heart would be
healed on earth. Of course, God knew what I did not know. There in the
lower hall, just before the ambulance left, I had seen Peter alive for
the last time...........................................
Meanwhile extraordinary tributes to
Peter were appearing in almost every newspaper and periodical in the
country. There was something about him and about his story that had
captured the imagination of Americans everywhere. An editorial in the
Washington Evening Star said:
Living and working in Washington only
eleven years, the Reverend Dr Peter Marshall nevertheless has left his
mark upon the whole city. He was a man of contagious spirit, eager and
alert, quick to see opportunities of service and meet their challenge.
Within a few months after coming here he had made himself an influence
throughout the entire community. Wherever he went, whatever he is, the
result of his presence was constructive. In classic language, he was
a builder of the Kingdom of God on this earth.
Perhaps one explanation of Dr.
Marshall's power might be found in the fact that he was a son of the
people and kept his touch with them even when he had risen to high
station. Born and reared against a bleak and uncongenial
background, he earned his bread as a laborer in his youth. His formal
education was limited to a mechanical and mining college at Coatbridge
in Scotland and the Columbia Seminary at Decatur in Georgia. Most of his
scholarly achievements he owed to his inquiring mind. The magic of his
eloquence was a native gift which he shared with Burns and Carlyle, Hugh
Miller and John Buchan. But he was a great preacher because of an inner
genius, a force of faith which demanded expression in human ministry.
His decade at the [Abraham Lincoln] New
York Presbyterian Church was a period of progress which soon will find
fulfillment in a new religious centre on the site long ago hallowed by
the presence of Abraham Lincoln. Dr. Marshall will not see the building
program finished, but his association with its start will be an asset
always. He is certain of remembrance too, at the Capital. Able
interpreters of the Word preceded him in the chaplaincy of the Senate,
and he contributed notably to the tradition which they
His final prayer for government
"above party and personality, beyond
time and circumstance, for the good of America and the peace of the
was a masterful utterance which well
may be regarded as his testament to the country he adopted and dearly
Washington Evening Star,Jan.25,
[The book itself reveals to a much
greater extent the message of
A MAN CALLED PETER]
See you, Darling, see you in the
[These are the Last Words of a
[In 2007 in England in our island home
we look to a man of the same faith from across our northern border who
has the opportunity to remedy the mistakes of the past by giving equal
status to the political ambitions of ALL the nation-states which occupy
our island home.
As a God -fearing man we look for a
return to the values that any self-respecting nation and in
particular a group of independent nation-states must retain to be known
as nations of justice and fair-play in its dealings with the world
No longer can we ignore our past and
the religious foundation of the land of England and that of our
neighbours on our shared island home.
It is time for a return from the
twisted path that has been put before us over the last few decades and
find our way back to a well and trodden furrowed path that which we and
those before us have known and have grown to defend with their lives
over the long history since the implanted original nation-state of
England in common accord with our Scottish and Welsh dwellers.
Then and only then can we have a
stronger and greater Britain of a family of independent nation-states
united in their island home against all who threaten peace and
prosperity and able once more to show the moral leadership the world
desperately needs and which we had always a share.
Only a FREE people can obtain these
Rights and Liberties-Not a once proud independent nation-state enslaved
in a despotic -corrupt-unaccountable god-less police state calling
UNITED STATES OF EUROPE.
THE PEOPLE HAVE
SPOKEN-IS THE EU COMMISSION LISTENING?
Ditch the EU
TREATY after IRISH REJECTION
[Daily Mail-Wednesday, June
MORE THAN HALF of voters believe Britain should
drop the controversial European Treaty in the wake of its
rejection in last week's
The poll comes as the Tories launch a last-ditch
bid in the
HOUSE of LORDS
today to delay the
have signed a
within the past few days
, calling on the
NOT TO RATIFY THE BILL
[WHY DON'T YOU?]
Let the people speak!
[Latest Addition - June07]
Daniel Hannan - Forming an OPPOSITION
to the EU
GORDON BROWN WANTS TRUST-BUT WHY WON'T
HE TRUST YOU?
HELL ON EARTH IN IRAQ
67% want powers back from
EU-ICM poll-June 21-2007-95%
of British people want a
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