A Time Like No Other ~ Part 1

           May 1978. A month like no other!

          What excitement filled the air as Brian popped the question. “Will you marry me?”

          My answer? “Yes!”

          We sealed “the deal” with a kiss, then Brian put in a call to my dad asking his permission which Dad gave, then yelled, “Ruth, pick up the other phone!”

         When Mom got on the extension, Brian shared the news with my ear closely pressed to the earpiece and him so I could join the call.

          Mom added, “Are you sure you can afford her dental bills?” (Leave it to Mom to mention my rotten teeth at this glowing moment.)

          After the call, Brian and I said our goodnights, and he headed to his room down the road from where my Hope town house was.

          Hope Town. Where we met. Where we fell in love. Let me give you a little explanation of these surroundings and our situations within them.

          In 1976, I went as a home missionary to Hope Town Christian School for the disabled. The administration “tried me out” as a summer camp counselor before I could apply for full-time ministry. When I did, I received approval to come onboard as a houseparent at the year-round residential facility. I’d share this responsibility with another gal, together caring for up to 6 disabled children and teens.

          Brian applied to Hope Town a year later. He was assigned as a teacher’s aid in the school program and was given lots of odd jobs during after-school hours.

          So, that’s how we met and reached this day when the question came up in the merry month of May!

          It was Brian’s weekend off (ours didn’t mesh at that point), and he took his usual upstate NY trip to spend time with his folks and help in his home church. He’d return late Sunday night.

          That particular Sunday, I wanted to visit one of our Hope Town kids who was long-term in the hospital 35 miles away. Another staffer offered to go along to help get the rest of our “family” to Sunday School and church. So, I planned to drive to see Carol and make it back in time to rejoin the kids/teens in the dining hall.

          I’d need to hurry a bit to make it to the hospital, visit Carol, and be back for after church dinner; but it was doable. I grabbed my cassette player and a few tapes, got in my VW Beetle, and started off, forgetting to buckle my seatbelt. My mind was ½ on this journey and ½ on Brian. I hardly noticed it had rained and roads were wet. I popped a sermon into the cassette player. That would be “church” for me this particular day.

          I zipped along the wet highway that passed through a state park. As I attempted to turn the steering wheel left to follow a curve, my “bug” instead headed straight. The brakes didn’t work either. I flew off the road, over a ditch, and through brush while crying out, “Help, Lord!”

          The car hit a small tree causing it to tip partway over, and it landed, lodged between two other huge trees.

          My head hit the top of the car, and I stayed there stunned a moment before wiggling my fingers and toes to see if I’d broken my neck. (Yes, I’d read Joni.) They moved, and I cried, “Thank You, God!”

          What to do next. I heard a couple cars go by on the highway I’d left involuntarily, but I was below road level and pretty much out of view. Thankfully, my VW Beetle had a sunroof. When the car came to its abrupt stop, not totally up-side-down, there remained space enough for me (I was much thinner then) to crawl out the sun roof. I worked my way through the broken brush, up the embankment, onto the highway.

          It wasn’t long before a small truck came along. I thumbed the driver, and he pulled over. I explained I’d had a wreck and asked if he’d take me to where I lived—Hope Town. He was most obliging. (Phew!)

          Back at Hope Town, all the residents and staff were finishing dinner. My fellow houseparent took the kids home while I called a tow truck and got a ride back to where my “bug” was.

          At the accident sight, a policeman awaited me. “We won’t charge you for the damage you’ve done to the park.” (How nice.) “You were lucky, Miss.” He pointed to the accident sight. “Had your car gone to the left or right, it would’ve plowed into one of those trees. The outcome would’ve been very different.

           I shared how I had prayed as the car flew off the road, and God did help me.”

          Soon the tow truck I’d called earlier arrived, pulled the car out, and plopped it upright. Ironically, the car seemed only slightly dented above the passenger-side door. I was able to drive it back to Hope Town.

          I didn’t initially feel any pain in my head, but I did sport humongous bruises on my leg and arm. (Unbeknownst to me then, I’d fractured a couple ribs and also damaged the tippy-top of my spine, causing me life-long difficulty with migraines.)

           It had been a long, hard day.

          Monday was my scheduled day off. My boss suggested I head home to New Jersey for the week—to recover. How grateful I was for that gift! I’d be with my folks right after I’d become engaged, and we could “talk wedding” while I recovered some.

          Black and blue but happy! That was me as I headed home in my I-don’t-trust-you-anymore car! (I later learned what had happened was called hydroplaning, and I didn’t ever care to do that again!)

          During the week in Jersey, I called my best friend, Joan, to see about a visit.

          She hesitated then said, “Sarah Ann, Mike ran away.”

          Mike? Her son—the boy I’d known since he was 4. A kid I’d babysat—he and his sister!

          How totally broken Joan and her husband must be! “Maybe I’d better wait till next time?” I suggested.

          “No. I want to see you. Need to. It would help.”

          So, I went to visit this lady who was ever-so-dear to me. After long embraces and tears shed, I sat across the table from Joan, held her hands, and listened. At the end of the visit, we both pleaded with God to bring Mike home.

          Mike will come home, I thought as I drove back to my parents’. After all, his high school graduation is just around the corner. He wouldn’t miss that!

          But Mike didn’t come home. He couldn’t.

          He had died.

          So, the week of supposed-to-be recovery and sharing excitement over wedding plans ended, instead, grieving at the funeral home with Mike’s family and friends.

          A May like no other, that 1978 year. From one week to the next, emotions flying to the heights and diving lower than anyone could fathom—as wild as the needle on a Richter Scale during an earthquake!

          Years later, the Holy Spirit would use our friendship with these dear ones to carry out Scripture found in II Corinthians 1:3,4.

          Reader, have you experienced times like these? Times that made your knees buckle—and tear your heart? Has the Holy Spirit ministered to you through God’s Word? Through others who’ve hurt and understand your pain?

          Next blog post—Part 2.

Does Jesus Care?

 

Does Jesus care when my heart is pained too deeply for mirth or song;

As the burdens press, and the cares distress, and the way grows weary and long?

 

(Refrain) O yes, He cares! I know He cares! His heart is touched with my grief;

When the days are weary, the long nights dreary, I know my Savior cares.

 

Does Jesus care when my way is dark with a nameless dread and fear?

As the daylight fades into deep night shades, does He care enough to be near? (Refrain)

 

Does Jesus care when I’ve tried and failed to resist some temptation strong;

When for my deep grief I find no relief, though my tears flow all the night long? (Refrain)

 

Does Jesus care when I’ve said goodbye to the dearest on earth to me,

And my sad heart aches till it nearly breaks—Is it aught to Him? Does He see? (Refrain)

 

(from hymn Does Jesus Care? by Frank E. Graeff, 1901, public domain)

#love #engagement #caraccident #bestfriend #runaway #heartbreak #Godshelp

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