Last Thursday I received a phone call from my Regional Director. It seems that someone reported to our Corporate Compliance Hotline that I carried a loaded pistol in my purse and that I not only carried in to our member's homes but I also gave it to the Case Managers to carry with them into homes.
First of all, let me say I do own a gun. I have been raised with a healthy appreciation and respect for guns. I have a permit to carry a gun.
Most of the time my gun resided in my glove box of my car. But, a week or so before everyone was out of town and when faced with a night alone I decided to carry my gun inside with me for the night....and I forgot to take it out of my purse and put it back in my car.
So, when I received the call I could not lie. Yes, I had a gun in my purse.
I have nick-named my gun "Little Bertha."
Many times when my Case Managers were heading out for a bad area we would joke about "Little Bertha."
That's all it ever was, a joke.
Our members have never been in danger and I would never be foolish enough to give something that potentially dangerous that is registered in my name, no less, to someone else to use.
I mean, really?
But, obviously we joked in front of the wrong person.
I truly had no idea it would be a problem to have my pistol in my car. But, it was a problem. At the direction of my supervisor I left work and immediately brought my gun to the house where it now resides permanently.
And, that is really fine with me. I am all about behaving ethically so if this is a rule, I will gladly follow.
When I received the call I was more upset that something like this may affect my record at work than the fact that "Little Bertha" could no longer ride along life's highways with me.
From the time I hung up the phone I could hear God whispering to me....."But as for you, ye thought evil against me; but God meant it unto good, to bring to pass, as it is this day, to save much people alive." (Genesis 50:20)
"OK, Lord," I thought, "I don't know what it is, but I know You are in control."
I left that afternoon on a little adventure with my daughter and one of the girls from our church. We were going to spend a couple of nights at an old hotel in a nearby town. This hotel is reported to be "haunted" and we were actually staying on a "haunted hall."
Across from our room was an old service elevator where almost 100 years ago a maid and her child were tossed to the bottom of the shaft to their deaths. The little girl supposedly still "plays" in the hallway.
About 2am that Friday morning we were awakened to a light knocking on our door. We all three sat straight up.
"What was that?" Denise asked.
"Sounds like someone knocking on the door," I said.
She got up and looked out the peephole.
She used the restroom and as she was coming out she began to joke about how it must be the "ghost children" playing in the hallway.
We all laughed.
About that time there was a huge THUMP on the door. Denise jumped into my bed leaving poor Alena alone in the other bed. We were all startled.
Again there was a huge bang on the door and I noted the top of the door bent in with the force of the blow. I jumped out of bed yelling "HEY!" while the girls began screaming.
We all began to call on Jesus as I looked out the peephole to find an enraged man standing on the other side of the door.
As I watched he backed up, put his shoulder down and rammed the door again. The door threatened to buckle under the blow. I placed my hands on the door and leaned my weight into it as Alena joined me.
Denise frantically called the front desk and in a shaking voice asked for help.
The man continued to ram.
Suddenly we heard another voice in the hallway speaking sternly to the man. I watched out the peephole as the desk clerk approached our door and knocked.
I opened the door while leaving the chain on. She apologized stating the man had too much to drink and was confused about his room. He was gone to his room now, per the clerk.
OK, we said.
Of course, we were all wide awake at this point.
But, I still felt uneasy.
I got up and looked out the peephole again, and there he stood, leaning against the opposite wall, peering down the hallway.
Then he came and stood in front of our door again. And he backed up, put his shoulder down and rammed. I yelled out, "You need to get out of here!"
Didn't faze him.
He backed up and headed for the door again. This time when he made impact I yelled through the door again.
"Sir! This is not your room! And if you continue to scare my girls I'm going to bust your face in!"
That seemed to get his attention because he immediately wandered off.
Of course, the girls thought that was hilarious after the threat was gone.
Denise reflected later that she wondered if it had not been the Lord who sent an angel by to knock on the door that first time to wake us up because there was no one there when she looked out, and as enraged as that man was he would have never just knocked.
We also wondered how this man who had just come from the bar could think his room was suddenly filled with women screaming for Jesus over and over.
And even more so.....how did no one else hear us? Why did no one else step out to see what was going on?
But, most importantly I heard His voice....
"But as for you, ye thought evil against me; but God meant it unto good, to bring to pass, as it is this day, to save much people alive."
What if I had not received that phone call? What if I had still been carrying my pistol in my purse when this enraged man with the strength of a bull came and began ramming my door at 2am? What if I had been able to count on the "protection" of my firearm as my girls safety was being threatened?
Would I have opened the door to show him I was armed? What if he had managed to break the door down and find me there with a pistol in my hand? Would he have been able to overpower me and take the gun from me and use it on us?
I will never know because although I believe someone may have meant to hurt me (when they could have simply approached me directly and pointed out my wrong-unless of course, they thought me **mad** enough to use Little Bertha on them?) what they meant for evil against me, God meant for my good.
He meant it to protect me from a potentially dangerous situation turning into a potentially deadly situation.
That's the way He loves me.
**As a side note: I am not sharing this to garner your response concerning the right to carry firearms. You are free to believe however you would like to believe. I am not trying to change your point of view, so show me the same respect. Neither am I excusing myself for having my gun on my person when it went against the policies of my organization. I am not. I was wrong and I have corrected it. Nor can it be said that I bear ill feelings against the person who reported it. How could I? This is not to illicit a political response, merely to illustrate His love for me. Period. So, I implore you to take it in the spirit it is written.**