“Revelator – one who reveals the truth”…






I’m back from vacation (smiling).

In my inbox today was this missive by Michael Johnson (author of HEALING SHINE).

I thought it very inspiring for me right now and hope that it will touch some of you.

Have an incredible Tuesday!

REVELATOR:  ONE WHO REVEALS THE TRUTH…by Michael Johnson

THROWING MY LOOP…
Michael Johnson

REVELATORS

revelator – (rev-uh-lay-ter) Word origin: Late Latin 1795-1805.
Noun – revelator – one who reveals the truth.

What is it that makes us rise? What causes us – sometimes rather suddenly – to change our ways for the better, and to succeed where we failed before? I’ve been searching for answers to that question for many years, and I’ve found a few. When I ask successful people how they achieved their goals in life, one of the most common responses I hear involves a story of “righteous indignation.” There’s no counting how many tales I’ve heard about a particular person’s eventual success being caused by a cruel remark earlier in their lives. As in when their teacher said, “You’re just not college material,” or something like, “You are never going to amount to anything.” After hearing that, a fire begins to burn in the person’s soul, and he or she simply will not be denied until they prove that teacher wrong. And there are other reasons…
one being that sometimes we encounter a “revelator.”
When those who have changed their ways are asked to explain why the miracle in their lives occurred, this answer – by far – is the most frequent. And because I have met more than my share, I often consider myself the luckiest person in the world. Teachers, cowboys, strong women, and friends have picked me up, lifted me up, and when all hope seemed lost…saved my day. Here’s the story of one “revelator” in my life…
As a young man, I held the title of “The Worst Student on the Planet.” Because my father had died suddenly and my mother couldn’t handle the grief, I found myself alone. Maybe because of fear – and because I wanted to please my father – I began again. Tried this time, and my grades improved in school, but no matter how well-intentioned I might have been there was one demon I couldn’t defeat… the monster called “Math.”
After returning to college and taking all my “F” classes over again, there was one remaining mountain that blocked my path. I had intentionally put off math year after year, and now time was running out. With my last semester fast approaching, I confided my fear to a friend on Christmas Eve.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” I said. “I can’t pass math. As a matter of fact, I don’t think I’ve ever passed a math class.”
His wife sat over in the corner. A pretty woman and a person I never heard say a word.
Imagine my surprise when she said, “I know why.”
“You know why I’ve never passed math?” I said.
“Yes,” and after a slight pause, she said, “The reason you’ve never passed math is because
you haven’t had me!”
“You teach math?”
“Yes,” she said. “You enroll in my class next semester. The work will be difficult, but you can do it. I will see to that.” And so I did.
The first class was a nightmare. I was completely lost and I had no idea what was being discussed. I can remember all the other students – so young – laughing at something and I didn’t know what. “What’s so funny?” I asked a girl beside me.
“It’s this class,” she said. “It’s like…it’s like… so ridiculously easy!”
At that moment, the I looked up to see the teacher standing by my desk.
“How are you doing on the first assignment, Michael?” she asked.
“Not too well,” I said – feeling sick.
“Well, that’s no surprise,” she said. “You’ve only been trying for a couple of minutes. Things will improve. Keep trying.” She would say that over and over to me for four and one-half months. When I fell, she would invite me over to her house for dinner. She would prepare a meal for her husband and me, then we would work. She wrote me a note that said, “Call us or come over to the house any time you need help.” At the bottom of the note was her phone number.
I passed the class, and at graduation I sat on the stage gazing out at hundreds of people. I didn’t know anyone in the audience, but I knew my father was smiling in heaven.
And than I saw something in the back…a small fist in the air. I laughed thinking that must be some proud parent. It wasn’t. I kept staring and then realized that hand belonged to someone who had come to share my joy – that was the hand of my revelator.
She kept it in the air for the longest time.

– Michael Johnson



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