The Wings of Healing is an international ministry, with a world wide radio ministry, and also helps maintain Children homes, relief stations, churches, and Bible schools around the globe.

Monthly Archives: January2021

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Sharon Leann Wyatt’s autobiography


Across from me were nice looking fellows, one said he hoped to surf the day away in his rubber wetsuit. Near him were two others that had that tan-from-a-can look, a skin tone that set them apart from the pallor of the rest of us. I smiled thinking of this bus load of misfits going to the beach on a day like this, and then I almost laughed out loud when I noticed one of the tan-in-the-can guys had forgotten to do the tip of his nose. As yet I had been unable to see who occupied the back of the bus, that would require turning around, but the suspense was killing me. Surely someone who wasn’t a misfit had to be on this bus. I managed to maneuver a glance up the aisle, and there were those of the opposite sex, that looked a bit more “real.” There were other women on board, but as I lifted myself up so as to see the last two rows there were more of the “jet Set.” Oh, No!
The only other women on broad were many of those that had decorated the pillows on Burke’s Law, and pawed and fawned over directors and star. I would later designate these “ladies” in my own way as the “whores d’oeuores,” emphasizing the words in a poor French accent. Individually some could be quite nice and engaging, but as a cadre they could be, for my taste, a bit much.
We arrived at fog shrouded Malibu, and one could barely see the ocean. The bus door opened and a rush of cold air into the bus, “Close the door,” several disgruntled would-be sunbathers yelled out. Then a raft of remarks were made by an appalled crowd of disenchanted extras, now aware of the fact that this was not going to be a glamour job. Now one of the most frustrating of studio syndromes, that is waiting for weather to change, and I got up at 5 o’clock in the morning for this? The coffee truck finally arrived and we stood around holding either a styrofoam cup of coffee, or tea to warm our hands. The ocean had a gray foreboding look and the waves were not even a foot high.
A tall ruddy faced man with light sandy hair was pouring himself a cup of coffee. There was a glint in his eye as he said, “I don’t think we have worked together before.” “No!’ I don’t think so sir.” “Are you ready to play some volleyball in the sand?” he replied. Quickly I said, “Yes, as long as I can do so fully clothed.” “What is your name?” “Sharon Leigh, and what is yours,” I asked politely in my finishing school voice. “I’m Don Taylor.” “Oh, the director, how do you do.” He responded with a smile, “Better since meeting you.” That last remark had a certain ring about it that categorized Don, and I walked away knowing that there would be more from this man, and not for the better.
The conditions and moisture in the air had made what is my naturally curly hair now an unbelievable mass of the frizzes. I retreated to the ladies room to undertake some restoration, but gave up and just pulled my now hopeless curly mass of hair away from my face with a band.
There were also a good number of girls in this 1935 vintage lavatory, but they were doing what they could to make their bathing suits more daring without being censored. They pulled and tugged at every vestige of their bikinis using various items to achieve a deeper cleavage, a more pronounced bust line, and always to make their suits even smaller. Most were quite well endowed and their efforts increased things to a point resembling more some extreme caricature than anything natural. One girl wearing the then popular “Peek-a-boo” suit, where netting was used where material should be, and who was not so well endowed pulled her suit to her waist, and from her makeup kit pulled out a brown eyebrow pencil and began to draw a line an inch wide and five inches long between her breasts, shading this brown smudge into a ‘V’ shape, then with white eye shadow preceded to highlight this imagined cleavage.
(Continued next month)

After A Weary Year, What?
January 2021
My Gracious and Patient Friend:
This last month while singing the Christmas carol “O Holy Night,” I was struck by the phase, “A thrill of hope, a weary world rejoices.” This, from my perspective, is very much “a weary world.” And how much we need reasons to “rejoice!” I for one am exhausted by Covid19, “lockdowns” and more “lockdowns,” uncomfortable masks, my local eateries being smother, and yes, endless elections. Weary is a good description.
Despite this I’m praying to recapture that “thrill of hope.” It was Isaiah in one of his moment of soaring inspiration wrote, “…those who dwell in a land of deep darkness, on them has light shined. Thou hast multiplied the nation thou hast increased its joy.” (Isa. 9:2-3). He could say that because his prophesy would continue, “…to us a Son is given…and His name will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace…and upon the throne of David, and over His kingdom to establish it, and uphold it with justice and with righteousness from this time forth and forevermore” (Isa. 9:6-7). This is so true even today; despite our own darkness, maybe because of the darkness, the Light shines all the more. And the Son indeed reigns, “from this time forth and forevermore.”
Let us hear that carol, “and yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.” In our present weary world we should rejoice, we have just last month celebrated His birth, and in a few weeks we celebrate His “being lifted on high” on that cross and then His resurrection. And can we not rejoice that He seated at the right hand of the Father? He does reign. He is the Davidic King, and His purpose in and for us will be accomplished. This should be all that is necessary for that “thrill of hope.”
We can admit to being worn-out, drained by all this last year has brought about. It will take effort for this weary world to rejoice, but God will bring good out of all this mess. Even as is often the case God will take His own sweet time. It will take patience, and oh yes, faithfulness on our part, which is, to be honest, what our Lord always asks of us. When elections don’t come out as we might wish, masks are uncomfortable, we can’t do a lot of the things we want, and many are unable to attend church (mine meets in a parking lot under tents), we might view this as hard times. However, we have as yet not “suffered mocking and scourging, and even chains and imprisonment.” Have not been “stoned, sawn in two, killed with the sword,” or “gone about in skins of sheep and goats, destitute, afflicted, ill treated,” at least not yet (Heb.11:36-38).
That is just a few of the things our forerunner suffered for their faith, and still as the author of Hebrews states, “they did not receive what was promised, since God had foreseen something better for us, that apart from us they should not be made perfect” (:39-40). God has His ways, these ancient believers were not blessed to see God’s completed plan of redemption, and His Kingdom stretched out to receive countless Gentiles. We, however, have been blessed to witness that promised; that the “seed” of election would rival the stars in the heavens, or the sands of the seashore. Clearly, God has His own ways of doing things. Certainly His own timing, His own unique design in this all, and will certainly have His own timing, His own design in what we are now struggling with. None of this, however, is God’s doing. Like poor Joseph languishing in prison for years because his brothers acted out of envy and hatred, and only years later could he tell them “what you meant as evil against me, God meant it for good” (Gen. 50:20). We now are witnessing our own “evil,” as those only partly informed or misinformed submit, that power corrupts, and how the thirst for power, not to mention fear, can twist human institutions.
“God works for the good,” but are we too weary perhaps from are own personal battles? Exhausted by what our communities, our nations have had to battle through?
Good will arise, ultimately, but it will test our patience and faithfulness. Still, only Jesus brings the peace we need, and the hope that enables us to rejoice, even if weary. For it is He that has brought the Kingdom, and all that implies. A reality that brings meaning to our weariness, and despite all these things, makes our rejoicing possible

“A thrill of hope, a ——- world rejoices…”

Thomas Randolf Wyatt