Let me paint the picture for you. Image, if you will, a VERY large parade. I mean many thousands of people lining the streets near Times Square. And, despite the fact that the sky was ice blue and the sun was out; it seemed to be snowing very hard anyway. As a small child, standing there shivering in my little cowboy boots, I was very puzzled. Where is all the snow coming from? I later learned that it was paper falling out of sky scrapers to make the parade a more festive occasion. Something about tradition.
Well, in this case, the special occasion was the hostages being freed from Iran. All the former hostages and their families were packed like sardines in these convertible limousines that endlessly rolled by. NYPD mounted on horseback rode up and down the throngs of people for security reasons. I personally thought the parade would never end and I honestly thought my little toes were icicles. I would have enjoyed the parade much more had the arctic blast not been so overwhelming.
However, all good things must come to and end (yes even parades). The mob eventually began to disperse and my mom grabbed my frozen little hand. We headed straight for the subway system underground. It was always cool to ride the subway. You walk down there in that tunnel and stand there in the quiet and wait. Silence. Then, you can hear the low rumble off in the distance. It gets louder and louder until it reaches a near deafening pitch. (At least for me as a kid)
Then the entire subway seemed to come flying out of one of the tunnels and suddenly made a rapid stop. There was a loud hissing and high pitched screeching when that happened. Then the doors flew open and all the people came pouring out while we tried to pile in. I held my mom's hand tightly as all kinds of people crowded into that small subway car.
My dad grabbed a pole above his head and my mom held onto my dad. The doors suddenly slammed shut and there was a sudden jerk and a feeling of movement. I stood up on my frozen little tippy toes and looked out the window where I could see we were moving. As the subway accelerated into the darkness of the tunnel I sat down on the bench next to where my mom was standing but she still held onto me very tight.
Then, I saw something that I have never forgotten. I saw a man wearing a baseball cap with a green button and yellow words pinned on it. There were only two words on that button. I knew for certain the last word said "IRAN". I had seen news and newspapers about Iran for over a year. But I had never seen the first word on that man's button before or ever heard it. I know it started with the letter "F" and had as many letters as Iran.
I can actually remember sitting there completely puzzled at the meaning of that word. It didn't make sense to me. So, I actually sat there, in the bustling crowded atmosphere of that subway car, and quietly began to mutter that phrase. Hmmm. That sounded silly. I began to contemplate harder and kick my little legs that were dangling off the side of the bench, cowboy boots and all. I said it again. I must have looked cross and in deep thought. I said it one more time. Whack!! "Stop kicking your legs"! said my mom.
Well, I don't remember much else. However, I was shocked when I went to school that following Monday because it seemed that all those little kids knew that word and they used it for almost anything. They used it for words like, "That, you, him, school, and even Billy Joel." I remember one kid using that word with Ozzy Osbourn and a big fight almost started. Oh well, I apparently was in the process of being educated. :)
Saturday, August 21, 2010
The Night I Faced One Of My Inner Demons...Literally
As a child I was a very sweet and sensitive boy. I was very tenderhearted and very quiet at times. I always preferred to play alone in solitude rather than in a group and I preferred artistic pursuits over the rough and tumble ways of athletics. Consequently, I was very imaginative and very creative. I was drawn to things that personified my creativity.
Sometimes, this interest manifested itself in very dark ways. Halloween was one of my most favorite times of the year. I loved going to the stores and seeing all the masks that were on display. I could only dream of owning one of those hideous rubber monstrosities because, even then, they were quite expensive. I loved the whole concept of dressing up for Halloween. Later, when I was in Chattanooga, I would participate in two really large haunted houses that drew people for miles around. It was such fun!
Years earlier I would watch Movie Macabre with Elvira Mistress of the Dark. I always loved those bizarre European vampire and werewolf movies Elvira had on that show. Of course I will never forget the Steven King thriller Salem's Lot where the vampires were your friends, family, and neighbors who all knew your name. One could even call my interest in the darker side of pop culture as unhealthy and even morbid.
Not surprisingly I used to have this recurring dream which lasted for quite a few years. I would be running down a hallway of a giant castle or even a school because I just knew I was being chased by a terrible monster. It was a creature that I dared not look at lest I be utterly paralyzed with sheer terror. I could hear it getting closer and closer and no matter how fast I ran the sound of it's low, hollow, groaning howl grew even closer and closer. Finally, when it was almost upon me I would turn and look. Then, I would bolt awake. Ahhhahaah!! My room would be quiet as a tomb with only the soft sound of the clock on my wall. Tick, tick, tickety, tock.
Sometimes, in my dream, I would look and actually catch a glimpse of this hideous creature. It was very human in form but almost like a three dimensional shadow and I could barely make out two beady eyes where it's head should have been. The sound of it's awful howl was almost deafening as it walked slowly towards me with it's form jiggling inconsistently with every step. As it's heavily pixilated shape lumbered even closer I could almost see what looked like static electricity pulsating throughout it's abominable shady silhouette. Then, that terrifying howl, "Whhoooooooowwooooooooooohoooooowwwww"!!
One time in particular I jolted awake as I normally did. However, this time I could still hear a loud roaring sound. I slapped my hands over my ears so hard I hurt my ears. When I naturally let go of my ears because of the pain I realized the loud sound was actually that of a train engine not far away. I breathed a huge sigh of relief. I eventually drifted back to sleep to the faint sound of tick, tick, tickety, tock.
But as the years went by the nightmares I had of this hideous demon from the netherworld became more and more infrequent. And one day they were gone forever. Call it age, maturity, or some really good antidepressants. For whatever reason the dreams ceased. Then came that fateful night when I would once again meet up with the tormentor and invader of many childhood dreams. This time, I would be wide awake!
Typical scenario right? I just got off of a long day at work and just got home from another part time job at night. I was exhausted and sitting in my huge chair just chilling and feeling fresh and clean from a recent shower. Ahhh, the smell of dial soap, aftershave, and the feeling of the air conditioner on full blast.
Well, a night like this isn't complete without a huge glass of icy Diet Coke and a large bowl of ice cream. Any kind will do. Oh yes, and the remote controller. So, I am flipping through all the channels so I can try to find something worth watching. I finally come to the Sci-Fi channel which so happened to be playing some old black and white reruns of the show The Outer Limits. I always loved this show as a kid. I loved Classic Star Trek as well.
Something suddenly grabbed my attention however. I noticed that I quickly recognized one of the leading actors. I had seen him in Star Trek in one of my favorite episodes there too. I had always heard that the writers of Star Trek also wrote for The Outer Limits so it took me no time at all to assume there was a connection. The actor was Michael Forest. He played the role of the Greek god Apollo in the 1967 Star Trek Episode, "Who mourns for Adonais". I still think these kind of connections are really cool so I thought I would enjoy my ice cream and be entertained.
Anyway, I keep watching and this particular episode is about a scientific institute with a small nuclear reactor that is used to try to harness the electromagnetic currents in the atmosphere. Well, a cleaning lady somehow gets vacuum cleaner dust in the chamber of this reactor and it creates this dangerous intelligence that wreaks havoc throughout the show even killing off some of the actors. Yes, even the charachter played by the illustrious Michael Forest died a horrible death.
Anyway, back to the main point. When this monster was first created it made a hollow low howling noise that nearly sent chills down my spine. THAT is the same noise I used to hear in my dreams as a child and now, that I got a good look at this electromagnetic diablo from atomic hell, I realized that THAT was the monster I saw in my dreams! UNBELIEVABLE! I literally glared at the screen in utter shock. It was like I had almost seen a ghost but on television.
For years I thought that the dreams I had as a kid were part of my own disturbed psyche playing tricks on my subconscious mind while I slept. No, not at all. Apparently the source of all those terrible dreams were right out of the fertile imagination of a Hollywood screenwriter! That creature didn't come from hell! It came from a typewriter!! I just sat there laughing quietly to myself. Apparently I had seen this episode when I was very small and it traumatized me so bad it gave me nightmares for years! Maybe I should sue? I'm sure I could find some parasite trial lawyer who could use the money. Well, I doubt I could afford the retainer.
Sometimes, this interest manifested itself in very dark ways. Halloween was one of my most favorite times of the year. I loved going to the stores and seeing all the masks that were on display. I could only dream of owning one of those hideous rubber monstrosities because, even then, they were quite expensive. I loved the whole concept of dressing up for Halloween. Later, when I was in Chattanooga, I would participate in two really large haunted houses that drew people for miles around. It was such fun!
Years earlier I would watch Movie Macabre with Elvira Mistress of the Dark. I always loved those bizarre European vampire and werewolf movies Elvira had on that show. Of course I will never forget the Steven King thriller Salem's Lot where the vampires were your friends, family, and neighbors who all knew your name. One could even call my interest in the darker side of pop culture as unhealthy and even morbid.
Not surprisingly I used to have this recurring dream which lasted for quite a few years. I would be running down a hallway of a giant castle or even a school because I just knew I was being chased by a terrible monster. It was a creature that I dared not look at lest I be utterly paralyzed with sheer terror. I could hear it getting closer and closer and no matter how fast I ran the sound of it's low, hollow, groaning howl grew even closer and closer. Finally, when it was almost upon me I would turn and look. Then, I would bolt awake. Ahhhahaah!! My room would be quiet as a tomb with only the soft sound of the clock on my wall. Tick, tick, tickety, tock.
Sometimes, in my dream, I would look and actually catch a glimpse of this hideous creature. It was very human in form but almost like a three dimensional shadow and I could barely make out two beady eyes where it's head should have been. The sound of it's awful howl was almost deafening as it walked slowly towards me with it's form jiggling inconsistently with every step. As it's heavily pixilated shape lumbered even closer I could almost see what looked like static electricity pulsating throughout it's abominable shady silhouette. Then, that terrifying howl, "Whhoooooooowwooooooooooohoooooowwwww"!!
One time in particular I jolted awake as I normally did. However, this time I could still hear a loud roaring sound. I slapped my hands over my ears so hard I hurt my ears. When I naturally let go of my ears because of the pain I realized the loud sound was actually that of a train engine not far away. I breathed a huge sigh of relief. I eventually drifted back to sleep to the faint sound of tick, tick, tickety, tock.
But as the years went by the nightmares I had of this hideous demon from the netherworld became more and more infrequent. And one day they were gone forever. Call it age, maturity, or some really good antidepressants. For whatever reason the dreams ceased. Then came that fateful night when I would once again meet up with the tormentor and invader of many childhood dreams. This time, I would be wide awake!
Typical scenario right? I just got off of a long day at work and just got home from another part time job at night. I was exhausted and sitting in my huge chair just chilling and feeling fresh and clean from a recent shower. Ahhh, the smell of dial soap, aftershave, and the feeling of the air conditioner on full blast.
Well, a night like this isn't complete without a huge glass of icy Diet Coke and a large bowl of ice cream. Any kind will do. Oh yes, and the remote controller. So, I am flipping through all the channels so I can try to find something worth watching. I finally come to the Sci-Fi channel which so happened to be playing some old black and white reruns of the show The Outer Limits. I always loved this show as a kid. I loved Classic Star Trek as well.
Something suddenly grabbed my attention however. I noticed that I quickly recognized one of the leading actors. I had seen him in Star Trek in one of my favorite episodes there too. I had always heard that the writers of Star Trek also wrote for The Outer Limits so it took me no time at all to assume there was a connection. The actor was Michael Forest. He played the role of the Greek god Apollo in the 1967 Star Trek Episode, "Who mourns for Adonais". I still think these kind of connections are really cool so I thought I would enjoy my ice cream and be entertained.
Anyway, I keep watching and this particular episode is about a scientific institute with a small nuclear reactor that is used to try to harness the electromagnetic currents in the atmosphere. Well, a cleaning lady somehow gets vacuum cleaner dust in the chamber of this reactor and it creates this dangerous intelligence that wreaks havoc throughout the show even killing off some of the actors. Yes, even the charachter played by the illustrious Michael Forest died a horrible death.
Anyway, back to the main point. When this monster was first created it made a hollow low howling noise that nearly sent chills down my spine. THAT is the same noise I used to hear in my dreams as a child and now, that I got a good look at this electromagnetic diablo from atomic hell, I realized that THAT was the monster I saw in my dreams! UNBELIEVABLE! I literally glared at the screen in utter shock. It was like I had almost seen a ghost but on television.
For years I thought that the dreams I had as a kid were part of my own disturbed psyche playing tricks on my subconscious mind while I slept. No, not at all. Apparently the source of all those terrible dreams were right out of the fertile imagination of a Hollywood screenwriter! That creature didn't come from hell! It came from a typewriter!! I just sat there laughing quietly to myself. Apparently I had seen this episode when I was very small and it traumatized me so bad it gave me nightmares for years! Maybe I should sue? I'm sure I could find some parasite trial lawyer who could use the money. Well, I doubt I could afford the retainer.
The day Ronald Reagan wrote a letter to my dad.
.Seriously, no joke. This happened in New York when dad was pastoring and had his own radio show. Anyway he received a letter (don't know why) from the government addressed: "Dear Mr. God". He pastored a Church of God so I guess the computer made a mistake of some kind. Dad was even interviewed on the nightly news at the New York NBC affiliate and the reporters came to the church etc. His 15 minutes so to speak.
So dad, apparently wrote Reagan about it and Reagan , being one of the most prolific correspondents since Thomas Jefferson, actually replied. It is mentioned in this book mentioned below. Also, the link I have provided goes to the exact pages. Thanks to Linda Trott Dickman for this bit of info.
Reagan: a life in letters - Page 682
by Ronald Reagan, Kiron K. Skinner, Annelise Graebner Anderson, Martin Anderson - Biography & Autobiography - 2003 - 934 pages
Reverend Doyle Daugherty Commack, New York March 11, 1982 28 Dear Reverend
Daugherty: I've just received a news clipping regarding the campaign
solicitation ...
Limited preview - About this book - Add to my shared library - More editions
http://books.google.com/books?id=sIQzbBBcsgcC&pg=PA682&lpg=PA682&dq=Rev.+Doyle+Daugherty&source=bl&ots=9LOQTEUIq6&sig=f8vUpRcAz3fg3EbuptY1-1fD7L8&hl=en&ei=QKzISaKHJ4mMtgfpnoWgAw&sa=X&oi=book_result&resnum=2&ct=result#PPA683,M1
So dad, apparently wrote Reagan about it and Reagan , being one of the most prolific correspondents since Thomas Jefferson, actually replied. It is mentioned in this book mentioned below. Also, the link I have provided goes to the exact pages. Thanks to Linda Trott Dickman for this bit of info.
Reagan: a life in letters - Page 682
by Ronald Reagan, Kiron K. Skinner, Annelise Graebner Anderson, Martin Anderson - Biography & Autobiography - 2003 - 934 pages
Reverend Doyle Daugherty Commack, New York March 11, 1982 28 Dear Reverend
Daugherty: I've just received a news clipping regarding the campaign
solicitation ...
Limited preview - About this book - Add to my shared library - More editions
http://books.google.com/books?id=sIQzbBBcsgcC&pg=PA682&lpg=PA682&dq=Rev.+Doyle+Daugherty&source=bl&ots=9LOQTEUIq6&sig=f8vUpRcAz3fg3EbuptY1-1fD7L8&hl=en&ei=QKzISaKHJ4mMtgfpnoWgAw&sa=X&oi=book_result&resnum=2&ct=result#PPA683,M1
Sometimes there is no closure and no happy ending...
Warning: This one is kind of dark. So, if you are in a good mood, feeling optimistic and hopeful then, you may NOT want to read this. However, this story is indeed true......
Many years ago, and towards the end of my fathers tenure as a pastor, a young married couple began attending Sunday morning services. Their names were Tommy and Janet Castillo. Tommy was a rather rugged looking guy. It seemed he worked outside in the sun a lot because his skin was an almost ruddy complexion. He usually had his hair slicked back and he was a rather stocky man of an average height.
He had a particular suit that he wore almost every other Sunday that I saw him. It was a bluish grey color with a burgundy shirt and was always accompanied with the same paisley tie. Tommy looked kind of Guido in this suit. However, I liked the suit because it seemed to have a distinctive flare of originality. That is, unlike the plain slacks and white button down shirt I usually wore.
Janet was a brunette with a slim build and a bit shorter than Tommy as well as a bit younger. I was to learn later that she was only a year older than myself. She and Tommy had both met in high school and were high school sweet hearts. Tommy's father had a very lucrative business and he was about to retire and entrust it all to Tommy. Tommy had obviously, at least to some degree, proven that he was very motivated and a hard worker capable of such a task. So needless to say Tommy and Janet had a bright future ahead of them. As of that time they had no children.
A few months later my father transferred his pastorate to another church about twenty miles away in another county. However, a few loyal members followed my parents to their new church despite the distance. Two of them were Tommy and Janet Castillo. Although they attended my parents previous church, for a few months, it wasn't until the transfer of this pastorate that I became rather acquainted with the Castillo's. I liked them immediately. I guess it was because I was at the age where I was now an adult and I found myself getting along better with the adults than many in the singles class at times.
Because my parents were new to this church they needed to immediately organize people together to help them. Tommy and Janet were immediately chosen to help with the young singles and teens. They happily accepted the task.
My dad had always pastored very small churches that ran around seventy or eighty every Sunday. Sometimes dad would hold events that would draw a much bigger crowd (like gospel music events) but the actual weekly attendance was always rather small. As a young teenager I was always frustrated with this because there seldom was ever a solid youth group to hang out with. However, when my parents went to this church, that all changed. Tommy and Janet Castillo really helped out tremendously with that change.
Looking back on the whole situation I have to almost admit that the first few months at that church were some of the best I have ever experienced in any church my dad pastored. And, I must admit, he pastored quite a few churches in my lifetime. We finally had a large group of teens and young adults and even a spot for me as the drummer for a Christian rock band, which back in 1990 was somewhat cutting edge for a church; especially a Church of God church where the red book hymnal reigned supreme.
That summer was a great one. Not only was my family on somewhat of a "honeymoon" with their new church but I was in my first Christian rock band with the youth pastyor and other church members. Also an elder of the church helped me purchase my first vehicle that I was so proud of. I was making new friends with the youth and young singles and we went out every Sunday and Wednesday night to Pizza Hut or Shoney's. Woo hooo!
I know that's not much now but it really was twenty years ago. It was especially a big deal for me because I remember when there were so many other times when parents pastored other churches and the only ones to go out anywhere were my immediate family and a few elders of the church. I would always see these large church groups come in and wish that ours was like that. Now, however, I could rightfully make that claim; especially with Tommy and Janet helping as much as they did.
Anyway, Tommy and Janet Castillo took to everyone very well. I clicked with them almost immediately. We had some really good times together after church too. The entire youth group, with Tommy and Janet in tow, would always go to the Pizza Hut there in town. We usually reserved a table for at least thirty and always managed to tip well. Me, Dayron, and a guy named Mark would take turns playing an arcade game called, "Attack of The Robot Monsters".
It was such a cool game because it had such a vintage generic 50's horror movie title, not to mention feel, and was easy to play too. Mark, being the huge Metal fan that he was, would also throw down a bunch of quarters into the jukebox. Next thing we knew songs by Faith No More and the metal band Slaughter (Up All Night Sleep All Day!!) would be blasting out of the speakers. Let's also not forget Tesla as well. " Little Susie's growing up"! Hey, it was the summer of 1990 and Metal wasn't dead yet.
I was also pleasantly surprised to find out that Tommy and Janet lived just a few miles down the road from where I lived in Stockbridge. So, they gladly invited me over a time or two for some grilled steaks and all the diet coke I could handle. They had a cool house. The evening I went over Tommy was already out back with the grille fired up. Those flames were just broiling those steaks to sizzling perfection. We had a great dinner together and I left that house that night glad I had friends like them. That was truly a tremendous summer for me. However.....like all good things......it came to an end.
One of the things that the youth group did was attend teen conferences held by Precept Ministries International in Chattanooga, Tennessee. (My mother saw to it) It was always a great experience. We would get up there Friday night, go to classes, and then head back to the hotel and hang out all night. Then, with just a few hours sleep we would all pile in the vans and head back over for some good breakfast and morning classes. I always had so much fun with this group because there was never a dull moment.
I will never forget the time we had come back from a Teen Conference late one Sunday evening in the spring of 1991. I can remember being glad we got back so late because I didn't have to play drums in church and I could finally take a break for once.
I unloaded my luggage from the van and walked into the fellowship hall. I was ravenous so I made a b line straight for the table with all the junk food. I happily grabbed a small paper plate and piled it up with cookies, cake, corn chips, and other finger food. I just sat there and stuffed my face. I mean I was really hungry!
Then, I noticed my sister Sherdonna slowly walking in my direction. She stopped in front of me and simply asked, " Did you hear about Tommy Castillo"?
"No, I didn't. What about him?" I simply replied.
Sherdonna just looked at me and quietly said, "He hung himself".
Tommy hung himself? I just sat there stone faced. I didn't know what to say or even how to act. I just felt emotionally blunted, without feelings really. However, had my reaction been more reasonable, I probably would have dropped my entire paper plate full of goodies right in the floor. It was truly horrible news and it took us all by surprise.
Everyone liked Tommy and he seemed to have a lot of friends. I didn't even realize how quiet the place was and how everyone was talking in low voices when I walked in. I was so focused on the fact that I didn't have to play in church that evening and I could sit and enjoy some cake and cookies. I didn't even notice everyone was in a somber mood. Then, I thought of Janet. I felt so bad for her. Shortly afterward I heard someone say she wasn't handling it very well. But who would have?
I must say that I have known more than my share of people who have decided to take their own life for one reason or another. However, when Tommy took his it affected me differently than most. He was just a few years older than me and was just about to inherit his father's business. And, he honestly was the kind of guy that one would have never suspected to do such a thing.
What a senseless waste. That was the thought that kept ruminating over and over in my mind shortly after Tommy's death. I believe I spent the next day or two in a daze. I just couldn't believe Tommy was gone. I also felt really bad for Janet.
I never will forget the funeral either. There literally must have been hundreds of people there. I was stunned. I mean family, friends, business associates, neighbors, and acquaintances all came to show their respects. There were even a couple of guys I saw at the gym often who showed up. I used to see these guys alot and never had any clue they and Tommy were friends. I couldn't help but wonder what Tommy would have thought if he had seen all that. He died, by his own choosing...alone. However, in reality, all one could do is witness the large turnout to his funeral and know he was anything but alone.
Sadly though, the one who was left to pick up the pieces was Janet. I had always heard, and believed, suicide was wrong but that reality never really hit me until I walked into that room at the funeral home and saw what I did. There was Tommy lying in that coffin. He was dressed in his favorite blueish suit with the burgundy shirt and paisley tie per Janet's wishes. He almost looked like he was asleep with the exception of the fact that his neck was still very swollen. I didn't stare very long. I couldn't. I just looked over at Janet sitting on that small couch opposite the coffin and she was absolutely hysterical.. And, it can be truthfully said, it was all Tommy's fault. He abandoned her in one of the worst ways possible.
Dad preached the eulogy at the funeral service. He didn't speak long because what could he say? I remember I felt completely numb that entire ceremony. After it was over the funeral procession made it's way to a large cemetery in Jonesboro. The procession itself literally stalled traffic it was so long. I just remember the small burial plaque that had Tommy's name on it was near a tall tree. That is where he was buried.
It just seemed such a senseless end to a life that could have offered so much to friends and family. Such a thing usually leaves people without any closure whatsoever and those who are left have no choice but to pick up the pieces and move on. Janet, however, did just that. At least that is what I heard even though I haven't seen her since. She, according to my knowledge, even got remarried and had children.
However, It wasn't long after that horrible incident that I had an interesting dream. I dreamed that I was in heaven and I had just finished partaking of my share of the Marriage Supper of the Lamb. Of course this was just a dream. I remember getting up from the table and walking in the direction of huge stacks of dishes up against a wall. I guess that's where I was supposed to put my dishes or something. I remember laying my dirty dishes on the tall stack of other dishes and suddenly two double doors nearby swung wide open.
They caught my attention and when I looked in their direction I was shocked at who I saw. It was Tommy Castillo! I couldn't believe it! He was wearing a hair net and an apron. His sleeves were rolled up and he was also carrying a bus pan. I stood in utter disbelief as I watched him race over to a large table and quickly clean the dishes off into the tray. He seemed to be working as fast as he could. I just know I was happy to see him. I ran up to him and tapped him on the shoulder.
Tommy turned around and immediately recognized me. His face lit up and turned into that usual toothy dimpled grin. I said, "Tommy! What are you doing here? I honestly didn't expect to see you here. I thought that...."
"I know Dave." Tommy said calmly. "Your surprised to see me here because of what I did. Well, the Lord is merciful and His grace was sufficient to cover even what I did. And, even though I am a busboy and a dishwasher in heaven I can be eternally grateful I made it home anyway".
That's all I remember about that dream. I know it was just a dream and maybe it was my minds way of playing out a scenario that I could deal with. Or, perhaps there is some truth to that story as well and I was just visualizing it in a way I could comprehend. I honestly don't know if Tommy Castillo is in heaven or not. I do know, however, that if he truly believed in the resurrection of Christ, despite the fact he obviously had a crisis of faith, I don't see why he wouldn't be. Ultimately though; only the Lord knows for sure.
John 3:16-17, John 11:25-26, 1 Corinthians 3:11-15, 1 John 2:1-2
Many years ago, and towards the end of my fathers tenure as a pastor, a young married couple began attending Sunday morning services. Their names were Tommy and Janet Castillo. Tommy was a rather rugged looking guy. It seemed he worked outside in the sun a lot because his skin was an almost ruddy complexion. He usually had his hair slicked back and he was a rather stocky man of an average height.
He had a particular suit that he wore almost every other Sunday that I saw him. It was a bluish grey color with a burgundy shirt and was always accompanied with the same paisley tie. Tommy looked kind of Guido in this suit. However, I liked the suit because it seemed to have a distinctive flare of originality. That is, unlike the plain slacks and white button down shirt I usually wore.
Janet was a brunette with a slim build and a bit shorter than Tommy as well as a bit younger. I was to learn later that she was only a year older than myself. She and Tommy had both met in high school and were high school sweet hearts. Tommy's father had a very lucrative business and he was about to retire and entrust it all to Tommy. Tommy had obviously, at least to some degree, proven that he was very motivated and a hard worker capable of such a task. So needless to say Tommy and Janet had a bright future ahead of them. As of that time they had no children.
A few months later my father transferred his pastorate to another church about twenty miles away in another county. However, a few loyal members followed my parents to their new church despite the distance. Two of them were Tommy and Janet Castillo. Although they attended my parents previous church, for a few months, it wasn't until the transfer of this pastorate that I became rather acquainted with the Castillo's. I liked them immediately. I guess it was because I was at the age where I was now an adult and I found myself getting along better with the adults than many in the singles class at times.
Because my parents were new to this church they needed to immediately organize people together to help them. Tommy and Janet were immediately chosen to help with the young singles and teens. They happily accepted the task.
My dad had always pastored very small churches that ran around seventy or eighty every Sunday. Sometimes dad would hold events that would draw a much bigger crowd (like gospel music events) but the actual weekly attendance was always rather small. As a young teenager I was always frustrated with this because there seldom was ever a solid youth group to hang out with. However, when my parents went to this church, that all changed. Tommy and Janet Castillo really helped out tremendously with that change.
Looking back on the whole situation I have to almost admit that the first few months at that church were some of the best I have ever experienced in any church my dad pastored. And, I must admit, he pastored quite a few churches in my lifetime. We finally had a large group of teens and young adults and even a spot for me as the drummer for a Christian rock band, which back in 1990 was somewhat cutting edge for a church; especially a Church of God church where the red book hymnal reigned supreme.
That summer was a great one. Not only was my family on somewhat of a "honeymoon" with their new church but I was in my first Christian rock band with the youth pastyor and other church members. Also an elder of the church helped me purchase my first vehicle that I was so proud of. I was making new friends with the youth and young singles and we went out every Sunday and Wednesday night to Pizza Hut or Shoney's. Woo hooo!
I know that's not much now but it really was twenty years ago. It was especially a big deal for me because I remember when there were so many other times when parents pastored other churches and the only ones to go out anywhere were my immediate family and a few elders of the church. I would always see these large church groups come in and wish that ours was like that. Now, however, I could rightfully make that claim; especially with Tommy and Janet helping as much as they did.
Anyway, Tommy and Janet Castillo took to everyone very well. I clicked with them almost immediately. We had some really good times together after church too. The entire youth group, with Tommy and Janet in tow, would always go to the Pizza Hut there in town. We usually reserved a table for at least thirty and always managed to tip well. Me, Dayron, and a guy named Mark would take turns playing an arcade game called, "Attack of The Robot Monsters".
It was such a cool game because it had such a vintage generic 50's horror movie title, not to mention feel, and was easy to play too. Mark, being the huge Metal fan that he was, would also throw down a bunch of quarters into the jukebox. Next thing we knew songs by Faith No More and the metal band Slaughter (Up All Night Sleep All Day!!) would be blasting out of the speakers. Let's also not forget Tesla as well. " Little Susie's growing up"! Hey, it was the summer of 1990 and Metal wasn't dead yet.
I was also pleasantly surprised to find out that Tommy and Janet lived just a few miles down the road from where I lived in Stockbridge. So, they gladly invited me over a time or two for some grilled steaks and all the diet coke I could handle. They had a cool house. The evening I went over Tommy was already out back with the grille fired up. Those flames were just broiling those steaks to sizzling perfection. We had a great dinner together and I left that house that night glad I had friends like them. That was truly a tremendous summer for me. However.....like all good things......it came to an end.
One of the things that the youth group did was attend teen conferences held by Precept Ministries International in Chattanooga, Tennessee. (My mother saw to it) It was always a great experience. We would get up there Friday night, go to classes, and then head back to the hotel and hang out all night. Then, with just a few hours sleep we would all pile in the vans and head back over for some good breakfast and morning classes. I always had so much fun with this group because there was never a dull moment.
I will never forget the time we had come back from a Teen Conference late one Sunday evening in the spring of 1991. I can remember being glad we got back so late because I didn't have to play drums in church and I could finally take a break for once.
I unloaded my luggage from the van and walked into the fellowship hall. I was ravenous so I made a b line straight for the table with all the junk food. I happily grabbed a small paper plate and piled it up with cookies, cake, corn chips, and other finger food. I just sat there and stuffed my face. I mean I was really hungry!
Then, I noticed my sister Sherdonna slowly walking in my direction. She stopped in front of me and simply asked, " Did you hear about Tommy Castillo"?
"No, I didn't. What about him?" I simply replied.
Sherdonna just looked at me and quietly said, "He hung himself".
Tommy hung himself? I just sat there stone faced. I didn't know what to say or even how to act. I just felt emotionally blunted, without feelings really. However, had my reaction been more reasonable, I probably would have dropped my entire paper plate full of goodies right in the floor. It was truly horrible news and it took us all by surprise.
Everyone liked Tommy and he seemed to have a lot of friends. I didn't even realize how quiet the place was and how everyone was talking in low voices when I walked in. I was so focused on the fact that I didn't have to play in church that evening and I could sit and enjoy some cake and cookies. I didn't even notice everyone was in a somber mood. Then, I thought of Janet. I felt so bad for her. Shortly afterward I heard someone say she wasn't handling it very well. But who would have?
I must say that I have known more than my share of people who have decided to take their own life for one reason or another. However, when Tommy took his it affected me differently than most. He was just a few years older than me and was just about to inherit his father's business. And, he honestly was the kind of guy that one would have never suspected to do such a thing.
What a senseless waste. That was the thought that kept ruminating over and over in my mind shortly after Tommy's death. I believe I spent the next day or two in a daze. I just couldn't believe Tommy was gone. I also felt really bad for Janet.
I never will forget the funeral either. There literally must have been hundreds of people there. I was stunned. I mean family, friends, business associates, neighbors, and acquaintances all came to show their respects. There were even a couple of guys I saw at the gym often who showed up. I used to see these guys alot and never had any clue they and Tommy were friends. I couldn't help but wonder what Tommy would have thought if he had seen all that. He died, by his own choosing...alone. However, in reality, all one could do is witness the large turnout to his funeral and know he was anything but alone.
Sadly though, the one who was left to pick up the pieces was Janet. I had always heard, and believed, suicide was wrong but that reality never really hit me until I walked into that room at the funeral home and saw what I did. There was Tommy lying in that coffin. He was dressed in his favorite blueish suit with the burgundy shirt and paisley tie per Janet's wishes. He almost looked like he was asleep with the exception of the fact that his neck was still very swollen. I didn't stare very long. I couldn't. I just looked over at Janet sitting on that small couch opposite the coffin and she was absolutely hysterical.. And, it can be truthfully said, it was all Tommy's fault. He abandoned her in one of the worst ways possible.
Dad preached the eulogy at the funeral service. He didn't speak long because what could he say? I remember I felt completely numb that entire ceremony. After it was over the funeral procession made it's way to a large cemetery in Jonesboro. The procession itself literally stalled traffic it was so long. I just remember the small burial plaque that had Tommy's name on it was near a tall tree. That is where he was buried.
It just seemed such a senseless end to a life that could have offered so much to friends and family. Such a thing usually leaves people without any closure whatsoever and those who are left have no choice but to pick up the pieces and move on. Janet, however, did just that. At least that is what I heard even though I haven't seen her since. She, according to my knowledge, even got remarried and had children.
However, It wasn't long after that horrible incident that I had an interesting dream. I dreamed that I was in heaven and I had just finished partaking of my share of the Marriage Supper of the Lamb. Of course this was just a dream. I remember getting up from the table and walking in the direction of huge stacks of dishes up against a wall. I guess that's where I was supposed to put my dishes or something. I remember laying my dirty dishes on the tall stack of other dishes and suddenly two double doors nearby swung wide open.
They caught my attention and when I looked in their direction I was shocked at who I saw. It was Tommy Castillo! I couldn't believe it! He was wearing a hair net and an apron. His sleeves were rolled up and he was also carrying a bus pan. I stood in utter disbelief as I watched him race over to a large table and quickly clean the dishes off into the tray. He seemed to be working as fast as he could. I just know I was happy to see him. I ran up to him and tapped him on the shoulder.
Tommy turned around and immediately recognized me. His face lit up and turned into that usual toothy dimpled grin. I said, "Tommy! What are you doing here? I honestly didn't expect to see you here. I thought that...."
"I know Dave." Tommy said calmly. "Your surprised to see me here because of what I did. Well, the Lord is merciful and His grace was sufficient to cover even what I did. And, even though I am a busboy and a dishwasher in heaven I can be eternally grateful I made it home anyway".
That's all I remember about that dream. I know it was just a dream and maybe it was my minds way of playing out a scenario that I could deal with. Or, perhaps there is some truth to that story as well and I was just visualizing it in a way I could comprehend. I honestly don't know if Tommy Castillo is in heaven or not. I do know, however, that if he truly believed in the resurrection of Christ, despite the fact he obviously had a crisis of faith, I don't see why he wouldn't be. Ultimately though; only the Lord knows for sure.
John 3:16-17, John 11:25-26, 1 Corinthians 3:11-15, 1 John 2:1-2
"Paw Paw Hancock always said, "Peanut, you can't scare ole' Duke. You will only wind up scaring yourself".
One time, when I was around twelve or so, Paw Paw Hancock and I were sitting on the screened in front porch at the farm house down in Gay, Georgia. He had just finished a long day's work tending to his garden, feeding the cows, and bush hogging the fields with the old 1977 Ford tractor. I was sunburned from helping grandma mow all the grass and rake all the magnolia leaves with aunt Elizabeth. So after those chores were finished, Paw Paw and I both sat there quietly in the shade of that porch and two giant magnolia trees. I was thoroughly enjoying an ice cold glass of southern sweet tea that my aunt Elizabeth had brewed up earlier that morning. Paw Paw was having a Marlboro cigarette.
He and I began talking about the farm, the work we still needed to get done, and eventually, as always, the topic rested on my two aunts. One of them, my aunt Elizabeth Cole, lived there in the farm house all by herself. Like my grandmother, and the eight other siblings, Elizabeth was born in that farm house and had lived on that farm her whole life. Elizabeth just lived a quiet and peaceful life there in that farm house in a small Georgia town with just a few hundred inhabitants.
So, my uncle John, who we all affectionately called Uncle Buck because of his avid deer hunting skills, left one of his dogs there with Elizabeth. The dogs name was Rebel. This dog was a mongrel looking mutt and had little or no practical use at all except to be an early warning system of sorts. It did, however, have a very loud and mean sounding bark so we were always alerted to the arrival of approaching company or unexpected visitors. I also remember Rebel missing about one third of his brownish orange coat because of the mange or something like that.
Anyway, for some reason, people in my family referred to aunt Elizabeth as "Duke". I had always heard that her older brother Roland gave her that nickname many years before I was born. I never knew why but the name stuck. Besides it sure was a lot easier to say than Elizabeth. Duke was a very quiet person and even at family events she barely spoke. She might have laughed a few times though.
So, as was their custom, my grandmother and grandfather always went down to the farm every Saturday to take care of the farm and to look after her youngest sister called Duke.This is something they had done consistently since 1978. Grandma would always make sure Duke had groceries and she would sometimes take her to a salon in near bye Woodbury when Duke needed a hair cut.
So, I began to relate to my grandpa that I would find living in that house all alone to be quite scary. Especially at night when the silence could literally be felt pressing in on ones ear drums. Down on the farm, and especially at night, sounds could be heard for long distances. Some of those sounds could not be immediately identified by a young pre-teenage boy like I was then. I would hear some of those sounds coming from way out in the fields or the woods and my highly creative imagination would run wild.
Anyhow, as the conversation progressed with Paw Paw, I began to tell him of some of the pranks and practical jokes I would play on Duke when I would come to visit. I told my grandpa how intrigued I was by the fact that nothing I did ever seemed to phase Duke one bit. She seemed, at times, to even be vaguely amused by my antics. I reiterated this point when Paw Paw and I were resting there on the screened in front porch. He just quietly turned to me and said, "Peanut, (which is what he called me) you can't scare ole' Duke. You will only wind up scaring yourself."
The old man spoke true words of wisdom. Unfortunately, I didn't see it that way then. I just thought what he said was funny. And with a slight chuckle and a swig of sweet tea I forgot all about it. That was indeed a big mistake.
You see, I was down there during my grandparents visit because my mom had dropped me off for the week. This old farm, especially during my turbulent years as a teen, was a place of refuge and solitude. It was a place where I could escape the anxiety and depression that haunted me most of my life. To me this farm was a giant time capsule remaining almost totally unchanged since at least the 1950's. There was so much to do here and to see; to explore and discover. Of course this annoyed my grandmother who rightfully accused me of rambling.
Still, after many years, old farm equipment remained in some of the old barns. My great grandfather's old 1948 Ford pickup truck still sat under the shed in the mule barn. In front of it sat an old machine that used to bail hay. The only time I ever saw these things in any useful capacity was in some old rediscovered family home movies shot during the 1950's. My mom and all her siblings were in these movies but they were all little kids.
However, all those wonderful opportunities for discovery and exploration came to a halt when the sun went down. When that happened, only a few lights remained on in the house and the dull roar of an old analogue television set with rabbit ears antennae could be heard with the back drop of the smell of Marlboro cigarettes.
Oh yes, my aunt Duke and I also found this to be a perfect opportunity to sit out on the front porch and listen to the crickets and the frogs. Occasionally we would hear the low roar of a cow mooing out in one of the fields. Again, I would be sitting there on that old rickety, rusty steel chair in my little bathrobe, swigging away at her sweet tea while Duke would be quietly enjoying a Marlboro cigarette.
So I remember one night in particular, and just an evening or two after my grandparents had gone back to their farm about 25 miles away, I was seized with a diabolical idea. Imagine that. I quietly stood up and made sure my little bathrobe was wrapped snugly around my chunky little waist. And with that I said rather nonchalantly, "Hey Duke, I'm going to go get some more sweet tea".
She just slowly took a relaxed drag of her cigarette and blew the smoke up into the air. Duke then just looked at me and slightly nodded. I then opened the screen door and walked into the foyer area. I walked straight back towards the kitchen but then headed for the tiny washroom near the back door. I quietly opened the back door to the back yard and made my way down the large cement steps that someone had painted green.
It was definitely night time and it was so dark here in the back yard that someone had a lone tiny street light mounted on a telephone pole opposite the tiny little path that ran beside the side of the house. I could see all kinds of little insects buzzing around in this light like a tiny swarm of angry bee's ready to attack. I could also feel that the grass had accumulated a significant amount of dew now. So, I quietly made my way down the side of the house, towards the front porch area, just out of reach of the small light hovering overhead.
I had almost made it to the front yard area where the century old magnolia tree's stood when I peered cautiously around the corner. There she was. There sat Aunt Duke all by herself on that porch quietly enjoying her cigarette. All I could hear were the crickets to my left and the dull roar of the old television from the large window just above me.
Now was my chance. I was going to top myself this time. This was going to be the best stunt I had ever pulled. I slightly grinned and pulled my bathrobe over my head. I began to slowly take steps towards the side of the front porch where Duke sat and when I got close enough I was going to make a roaring sound. I moved closer and closer. Then, right when I was close enough..........
Raaaarrrrrr!!! Wooof, wooof, woooof! Grooowwwll!1 RRRIIIPPP.
I suddenly jumped in fright and screamed in the process. All I could hear was the sound of an angry dog growling and barking and me, in my pre-adolescent voice, yelling and hollering in a shrill tone that sounded a lot like a girl I'm sure. I could remember feeling something tugging and pulling at the back of my bathrobe with quite a bit of force and even the sound of tearing fabric could be heard.
It was that stupid dog Rebel! I totally forgot about him lurking about at night. Rebel obviously thought I was some kind of intruder and, acting as an early warning system as usual, he grabbed my bathrobe with his teeth and began pulling and tearing; furiously growling and barking the whole time.
Now, playing a prank on ole' Duke was the least of my worries. I was terrified! I was dancing all over that lawn, by this time half undressed with my fruit of the looms exposed to the stars, under that small street light screaming, "Rebel no!! It's me Rebel! It's me! No! Noooooo!!!!!!
I must have resembled Gilligan, on Gilligan's Island, dancing around with his pants on fire just before he would jump into the lagoon and swim away.
I can only imagine how that sounded far off. Other people sat on their porches around there too and to them that whole incident may have sounded like a little girl getting mauled to death by a German Shepherd.
It was horrible. This was NOT part of the plan!
In an attempt to spare myself from the sheer emotional trauma of this event I must have blacked out. I would remember nothing else except waking up the next morning in the bed I usually slept in. The wonderful aroma of bacon, sausage, and waffles greeted my nostrils. The low roar of the television with the sound of the intro to The Price is Right greeted my ears. I slowly opened my eyes to notice a large window just in front of my bed near the old fireplace. A cool morning breeze slightly moved the large curtains that were draped about it and gently greeted me with a wonderfuly cool morning embrace.
It all seemed like a nightmare but that was the window that, just the night before, I stood under in the cover of darkness poised to outdo myself. Now the window glowed and radiated with the beauty of the morning sun. As I slowly climbed out of bed I heard the sound of that old dog Rebel barking not far away. This was followed by the sound of a pick up truck pulling up in the side yard. My grandparents had returned. Then the wise and endearing words of my Paw Paw Hancock suddenly came to mind: "Peanut, you can't scare ole' Duke. You will only wind up scaring yourself."
He and I began talking about the farm, the work we still needed to get done, and eventually, as always, the topic rested on my two aunts. One of them, my aunt Elizabeth Cole, lived there in the farm house all by herself. Like my grandmother, and the eight other siblings, Elizabeth was born in that farm house and had lived on that farm her whole life. Elizabeth just lived a quiet and peaceful life there in that farm house in a small Georgia town with just a few hundred inhabitants.
So, my uncle John, who we all affectionately called Uncle Buck because of his avid deer hunting skills, left one of his dogs there with Elizabeth. The dogs name was Rebel. This dog was a mongrel looking mutt and had little or no practical use at all except to be an early warning system of sorts. It did, however, have a very loud and mean sounding bark so we were always alerted to the arrival of approaching company or unexpected visitors. I also remember Rebel missing about one third of his brownish orange coat because of the mange or something like that.
Anyway, for some reason, people in my family referred to aunt Elizabeth as "Duke". I had always heard that her older brother Roland gave her that nickname many years before I was born. I never knew why but the name stuck. Besides it sure was a lot easier to say than Elizabeth. Duke was a very quiet person and even at family events she barely spoke. She might have laughed a few times though.
So, as was their custom, my grandmother and grandfather always went down to the farm every Saturday to take care of the farm and to look after her youngest sister called Duke.This is something they had done consistently since 1978. Grandma would always make sure Duke had groceries and she would sometimes take her to a salon in near bye Woodbury when Duke needed a hair cut.
So, I began to relate to my grandpa that I would find living in that house all alone to be quite scary. Especially at night when the silence could literally be felt pressing in on ones ear drums. Down on the farm, and especially at night, sounds could be heard for long distances. Some of those sounds could not be immediately identified by a young pre-teenage boy like I was then. I would hear some of those sounds coming from way out in the fields or the woods and my highly creative imagination would run wild.
Anyhow, as the conversation progressed with Paw Paw, I began to tell him of some of the pranks and practical jokes I would play on Duke when I would come to visit. I told my grandpa how intrigued I was by the fact that nothing I did ever seemed to phase Duke one bit. She seemed, at times, to even be vaguely amused by my antics. I reiterated this point when Paw Paw and I were resting there on the screened in front porch. He just quietly turned to me and said, "Peanut, (which is what he called me) you can't scare ole' Duke. You will only wind up scaring yourself."
The old man spoke true words of wisdom. Unfortunately, I didn't see it that way then. I just thought what he said was funny. And with a slight chuckle and a swig of sweet tea I forgot all about it. That was indeed a big mistake.
You see, I was down there during my grandparents visit because my mom had dropped me off for the week. This old farm, especially during my turbulent years as a teen, was a place of refuge and solitude. It was a place where I could escape the anxiety and depression that haunted me most of my life. To me this farm was a giant time capsule remaining almost totally unchanged since at least the 1950's. There was so much to do here and to see; to explore and discover. Of course this annoyed my grandmother who rightfully accused me of rambling.
Still, after many years, old farm equipment remained in some of the old barns. My great grandfather's old 1948 Ford pickup truck still sat under the shed in the mule barn. In front of it sat an old machine that used to bail hay. The only time I ever saw these things in any useful capacity was in some old rediscovered family home movies shot during the 1950's. My mom and all her siblings were in these movies but they were all little kids.
However, all those wonderful opportunities for discovery and exploration came to a halt when the sun went down. When that happened, only a few lights remained on in the house and the dull roar of an old analogue television set with rabbit ears antennae could be heard with the back drop of the smell of Marlboro cigarettes.
Oh yes, my aunt Duke and I also found this to be a perfect opportunity to sit out on the front porch and listen to the crickets and the frogs. Occasionally we would hear the low roar of a cow mooing out in one of the fields. Again, I would be sitting there on that old rickety, rusty steel chair in my little bathrobe, swigging away at her sweet tea while Duke would be quietly enjoying a Marlboro cigarette.
So I remember one night in particular, and just an evening or two after my grandparents had gone back to their farm about 25 miles away, I was seized with a diabolical idea. Imagine that. I quietly stood up and made sure my little bathrobe was wrapped snugly around my chunky little waist. And with that I said rather nonchalantly, "Hey Duke, I'm going to go get some more sweet tea".
She just slowly took a relaxed drag of her cigarette and blew the smoke up into the air. Duke then just looked at me and slightly nodded. I then opened the screen door and walked into the foyer area. I walked straight back towards the kitchen but then headed for the tiny washroom near the back door. I quietly opened the back door to the back yard and made my way down the large cement steps that someone had painted green.
It was definitely night time and it was so dark here in the back yard that someone had a lone tiny street light mounted on a telephone pole opposite the tiny little path that ran beside the side of the house. I could see all kinds of little insects buzzing around in this light like a tiny swarm of angry bee's ready to attack. I could also feel that the grass had accumulated a significant amount of dew now. So, I quietly made my way down the side of the house, towards the front porch area, just out of reach of the small light hovering overhead.
I had almost made it to the front yard area where the century old magnolia tree's stood when I peered cautiously around the corner. There she was. There sat Aunt Duke all by herself on that porch quietly enjoying her cigarette. All I could hear were the crickets to my left and the dull roar of the old television from the large window just above me.
Now was my chance. I was going to top myself this time. This was going to be the best stunt I had ever pulled. I slightly grinned and pulled my bathrobe over my head. I began to slowly take steps towards the side of the front porch where Duke sat and when I got close enough I was going to make a roaring sound. I moved closer and closer. Then, right when I was close enough..........
Raaaarrrrrr!!! Wooof, wooof, woooof! Grooowwwll!1 RRRIIIPPP.
I suddenly jumped in fright and screamed in the process. All I could hear was the sound of an angry dog growling and barking and me, in my pre-adolescent voice, yelling and hollering in a shrill tone that sounded a lot like a girl I'm sure. I could remember feeling something tugging and pulling at the back of my bathrobe with quite a bit of force and even the sound of tearing fabric could be heard.
It was that stupid dog Rebel! I totally forgot about him lurking about at night. Rebel obviously thought I was some kind of intruder and, acting as an early warning system as usual, he grabbed my bathrobe with his teeth and began pulling and tearing; furiously growling and barking the whole time.
Now, playing a prank on ole' Duke was the least of my worries. I was terrified! I was dancing all over that lawn, by this time half undressed with my fruit of the looms exposed to the stars, under that small street light screaming, "Rebel no!! It's me Rebel! It's me! No! Noooooo!!!!!!
I must have resembled Gilligan, on Gilligan's Island, dancing around with his pants on fire just before he would jump into the lagoon and swim away.
I can only imagine how that sounded far off. Other people sat on their porches around there too and to them that whole incident may have sounded like a little girl getting mauled to death by a German Shepherd.
It was horrible. This was NOT part of the plan!
In an attempt to spare myself from the sheer emotional trauma of this event I must have blacked out. I would remember nothing else except waking up the next morning in the bed I usually slept in. The wonderful aroma of bacon, sausage, and waffles greeted my nostrils. The low roar of the television with the sound of the intro to The Price is Right greeted my ears. I slowly opened my eyes to notice a large window just in front of my bed near the old fireplace. A cool morning breeze slightly moved the large curtains that were draped about it and gently greeted me with a wonderfuly cool morning embrace.
It all seemed like a nightmare but that was the window that, just the night before, I stood under in the cover of darkness poised to outdo myself. Now the window glowed and radiated with the beauty of the morning sun. As I slowly climbed out of bed I heard the sound of that old dog Rebel barking not far away. This was followed by the sound of a pick up truck pulling up in the side yard. My grandparents had returned. Then the wise and endearing words of my Paw Paw Hancock suddenly came to mind: "Peanut, you can't scare ole' Duke. You will only wind up scaring yourself."
Fangs with my name on them.....
I am sure we can all name something we have done that we deeply regret and that we are deeply sorry for. I know I can. In fact, many times over. However, there was one particular time that my actions were so out of line that it may literally haunt me the rest of my life. As always, let me share this story with you......
This particular night was sticky and humid. So I to took a shower before retiring to bed. As I stepped out into the hallway, wrapped in a towel, I noticed the ceiling fan just above me was on on full blast. Also, all the windows in the house were open and the fan was sucking the night air through the house. The hallway felt like a giant wind tunnel and by this time the temperature outside had cooled substantially. Ahhhh. It was wonderful. I felt like standing right there....wait....what was that?
Suddenly something flew past my head. It was something rather large but very silent as well. Whatever it was it flew right through my bedroom doorway and it began to circle around and around the light in my room. I quickly headed towards the doorway, pulled the door almost shut, and carefully peered in to investigate this nocturnal interloper. Then, it was like I almost had a flashback of sorts. In fact, my recall of this event was so vivid that I almost had a premonition as to what it was that flew into my room.
Years earlier, before I left home, I saw what I thought was a bird flying around in the living room downstairs. I remember my lovable but very dumb cocker spaniel kept trying to jump up into the air and grab this bird with his teeth. Each time he jumped he made a weird snorting sound. Pathetic. Anyhow, I suddenly watched in amazement as this bird flew right up and stuck to the ceiling. Then I realized in horror that was no bird but in fact...a bat!! And, it probably had rabies!
Well I can remember grabbing a broom and taking a few futile swings at this tiny beast and completely missing. Uh, Dave, it has radar sense...duh! And, even that night, the ceiling fan was on upstairs. Well, this bat eluded capture, or bludgeoning, when it flew right up into the ceiling fan vent never to be seen again.
Flashback! De ja vu! Here I was again, over ten years later, in nearly the same circumstance. So, when I peered through the tiny way between the door and the doorway I was almost not surprised at what I saw next. The little winged visitor seemed to have two little pointy ears and a flat face. I noticed this when It did a close fly by. So, that was my room with my bed already prepared for a good nights sleep. And now, there is a bat, probably with rabies, flying around in there. So what the heck was I going to do now??
Well, perhaps it was the after effects and delirium from a high fever I had a few days earlier? Or, maybe some intrinsic drive of self preservation? Who knows? All I knew is that I was still ill, very tired, and I would be darned if that thing was going to rob me of a good nights rest! So, I suddenly realized that this bat was flying around the light on my ceiling fan. The fan was turned off. The switch was just a few inches inside the room to the right of me.
An evil grin crossed my face. "Let's see how good your radar sense is now".
I quickly reached inside the doorway and threw the switch. I then slammed the door shut trapping the bat inside. Now, all I had to do was wait. I heard the low hum of the fan as it powered up. I could then hear the fan blades begin to turn faster and faster. This fan was also a little lopsided so the chord used to turn the fan on and off would shake back and forth hitting the glass on the fan light when the fan reached a certain speed. Tack, tack, tack, tack. Well, it didn't take long until I heard a very profound, "Thuddd'! I let out a triumphant, "Ahh ha ha!!"
So, just to be on the safe side I allowed the fan to remain on and I waited a few minutes longer to make sure the intruder was out cold. While I was waiting I also went out into my dad's office and found a steel baseball bat. I was going to make sure this rabies infected pestilence would never bother anyone again. I took the baseball bat upstairs and walked up to the door. I still couldn't hear a thing except the hum and spinning of the ceiling fan and the tack, tack, tack, of the chord on the glass. So, I slowly turned the door knob and gently gave the door a small push. I had no idea what to expect or what would happen next.
I carefully looked in the room. When I saw no sign of the little bat whatsoever I became even more brave. I opened the door entirely. Still, no bat. I did notice that my window was closed so it couldn't have gone out there. I looked on the floor. Nothing. I scanned all the walls, ceiling, and curtains. Nothing. Then....I noticed my closet.
I cautiously, with the baseball bat in front of me this time, tip toed over to my closet which was open. I used the baseball bat to sift though each individual article of clothing. Not a sign of the blood sucker. I couldn't believe it! Where did it go?? I then began to scan the room but I was pessimistic. That bat HAD to be in here somewhere. Flying though closed windows, doors, and walls seems to defy any physical law I know of. Therefore, even if I didn't see it, or find it, logically it was still here....somewhere.
But if you think for one minute I was going to sleep in this room now? After this? Needless to say I slept downstairs that night in front of the 56 inch television so it wasn't all that bad. But, even the next morning I went upstairs to check the room and still no sign of the bat.
Well, I have to admit that it took several nights before I got comfortable enough to go back upstairs and sleep in that bed. However, I eventually did and that bed slept a lot better than the couch that's for certain. But I will never forget what I saw when I woke up the next morning. I remember my alarm clock going off and I reached over and smacked the snooze button. When I sat up in bed I just sat there a few seconds still feeling sleepy and lethargic. Then I noticed something way out of the ordinary.
On my alarm clock, less than a foot from where my head lay all night, were what appeared to be two or three little pellets of some kind of animal droppings. Those weren't there last night when I went to sleep or I am certain I would have noticed. It looked like someones pet mouse had relieved itself on my alarm clock. These droppings were very small and so small in fact they could have come from......a bat?? Yes of course! What else could have left those souvenirs there??
Gasp!! No! It was as if that bat was in the room all along, waited till I was sound asleep, and left those droppings so I would see them when I woke up. As if to say, "I know it was you! Know this: my fangs have your name on them and just when you least expect it I'll get you back!" Noooo!!! EEEE-EEEE-EEEE-EEEE!!!!!
This particular night was sticky and humid. So I to took a shower before retiring to bed. As I stepped out into the hallway, wrapped in a towel, I noticed the ceiling fan just above me was on on full blast. Also, all the windows in the house were open and the fan was sucking the night air through the house. The hallway felt like a giant wind tunnel and by this time the temperature outside had cooled substantially. Ahhhh. It was wonderful. I felt like standing right there....wait....what was that?
Suddenly something flew past my head. It was something rather large but very silent as well. Whatever it was it flew right through my bedroom doorway and it began to circle around and around the light in my room. I quickly headed towards the doorway, pulled the door almost shut, and carefully peered in to investigate this nocturnal interloper. Then, it was like I almost had a flashback of sorts. In fact, my recall of this event was so vivid that I almost had a premonition as to what it was that flew into my room.
Years earlier, before I left home, I saw what I thought was a bird flying around in the living room downstairs. I remember my lovable but very dumb cocker spaniel kept trying to jump up into the air and grab this bird with his teeth. Each time he jumped he made a weird snorting sound. Pathetic. Anyhow, I suddenly watched in amazement as this bird flew right up and stuck to the ceiling. Then I realized in horror that was no bird but in fact...a bat!! And, it probably had rabies!
Well I can remember grabbing a broom and taking a few futile swings at this tiny beast and completely missing. Uh, Dave, it has radar sense...duh! And, even that night, the ceiling fan was on upstairs. Well, this bat eluded capture, or bludgeoning, when it flew right up into the ceiling fan vent never to be seen again.
Flashback! De ja vu! Here I was again, over ten years later, in nearly the same circumstance. So, when I peered through the tiny way between the door and the doorway I was almost not surprised at what I saw next. The little winged visitor seemed to have two little pointy ears and a flat face. I noticed this when It did a close fly by. So, that was my room with my bed already prepared for a good nights sleep. And now, there is a bat, probably with rabies, flying around in there. So what the heck was I going to do now??
Well, perhaps it was the after effects and delirium from a high fever I had a few days earlier? Or, maybe some intrinsic drive of self preservation? Who knows? All I knew is that I was still ill, very tired, and I would be darned if that thing was going to rob me of a good nights rest! So, I suddenly realized that this bat was flying around the light on my ceiling fan. The fan was turned off. The switch was just a few inches inside the room to the right of me.
An evil grin crossed my face. "Let's see how good your radar sense is now".
I quickly reached inside the doorway and threw the switch. I then slammed the door shut trapping the bat inside. Now, all I had to do was wait. I heard the low hum of the fan as it powered up. I could then hear the fan blades begin to turn faster and faster. This fan was also a little lopsided so the chord used to turn the fan on and off would shake back and forth hitting the glass on the fan light when the fan reached a certain speed. Tack, tack, tack, tack. Well, it didn't take long until I heard a very profound, "Thuddd'! I let out a triumphant, "Ahh ha ha!!"
So, just to be on the safe side I allowed the fan to remain on and I waited a few minutes longer to make sure the intruder was out cold. While I was waiting I also went out into my dad's office and found a steel baseball bat. I was going to make sure this rabies infected pestilence would never bother anyone again. I took the baseball bat upstairs and walked up to the door. I still couldn't hear a thing except the hum and spinning of the ceiling fan and the tack, tack, tack, of the chord on the glass. So, I slowly turned the door knob and gently gave the door a small push. I had no idea what to expect or what would happen next.
I carefully looked in the room. When I saw no sign of the little bat whatsoever I became even more brave. I opened the door entirely. Still, no bat. I did notice that my window was closed so it couldn't have gone out there. I looked on the floor. Nothing. I scanned all the walls, ceiling, and curtains. Nothing. Then....I noticed my closet.
I cautiously, with the baseball bat in front of me this time, tip toed over to my closet which was open. I used the baseball bat to sift though each individual article of clothing. Not a sign of the blood sucker. I couldn't believe it! Where did it go?? I then began to scan the room but I was pessimistic. That bat HAD to be in here somewhere. Flying though closed windows, doors, and walls seems to defy any physical law I know of. Therefore, even if I didn't see it, or find it, logically it was still here....somewhere.
But if you think for one minute I was going to sleep in this room now? After this? Needless to say I slept downstairs that night in front of the 56 inch television so it wasn't all that bad. But, even the next morning I went upstairs to check the room and still no sign of the bat.
Well, I have to admit that it took several nights before I got comfortable enough to go back upstairs and sleep in that bed. However, I eventually did and that bed slept a lot better than the couch that's for certain. But I will never forget what I saw when I woke up the next morning. I remember my alarm clock going off and I reached over and smacked the snooze button. When I sat up in bed I just sat there a few seconds still feeling sleepy and lethargic. Then I noticed something way out of the ordinary.
On my alarm clock, less than a foot from where my head lay all night, were what appeared to be two or three little pellets of some kind of animal droppings. Those weren't there last night when I went to sleep or I am certain I would have noticed. It looked like someones pet mouse had relieved itself on my alarm clock. These droppings were very small and so small in fact they could have come from......a bat?? Yes of course! What else could have left those souvenirs there??
Gasp!! No! It was as if that bat was in the room all along, waited till I was sound asleep, and left those droppings so I would see them when I woke up. As if to say, "I know it was you! Know this: my fangs have your name on them and just when you least expect it I'll get you back!" Noooo!!! EEEE-EEEE-EEEE-EEEE!!!!!
The blind date that never occured....
Well, actually it was ALMOST a blind date. Here's the story.
Being single, you always hear, "Hey, I know someone I want you to meet". Now, in your twenties, that can still be intriguing. Thirties and forties? A nightmare. Well, a friend of mine knew a young lady he wanted me to call and he gave me her number. I called. She sounded very sweet and really cute. We must have talked a long time. We seemed to click very well. She attended a local college and had a good job. Why not?
So, I called her a few more times and I was very curious as to what she looked like. As for her personal life, well, she did have some issues but we all have them right? Actually, she had quite a few issues and the more we talked the more grim the situation became. I mean, I still liked her as a person but the prospect of their being anything between us romantically seemed very problematic.
So, in a desperate attempt to salvage the situation, I became very shallow and superficial. I said, " Hey I have an idea. I will mail you a picture of me and you mail me a picture of you". Pathetic. Smooth move Cialis.
She happily agreed, surprisingly. Well, a couple of days later I went out to the mailbox and opened up the pics I received in the mail. For a second, I just stared at them. Then, it hit me. "Oh God no! No!! What am I going to do now"!?! That poor girl was not the pick of the litter by any means. I can't say I was either but you have to find someone at least decent looking and that your attracted too right?.
Then I felt so bad. I was almost physically sick with utter disappointment, and now, I knew there was no way in a devils Hades I could call her back, and talk to her with a straight face. The trauma was just too great! I just sighed and shook my head. "Now she is going to think that because I didn't call her back I think she's......but it's true!! Oh God what am I going to do!?! Oh that poor girl! Why can't I be an insensitive jerk just for once??"
Well, it took a day or two to get over the utter shock and awe of the situation. Then, one evening, I went to work at the local pizza joint. It was a part time job. The night had been fairly busy, like any other night. But then it slowed down and I found myself folding pizza boxes. Then I heard our very friendly, sweet, lesbian manager say, "David, your up!"
I looked at the ticket as I picked up the pizza bag. Then, I froze in almost sheer panic. The last name on the ticket was the last name of the girl that my friend tried to hook me up with. "Oh god no I can't take this order! Please no! I can't go through with this! You don't understand! Out of all the addresses in this town!"
I could not deliver a pizza to this girls house. Heck no! I looked at the driver standing next to me. "Dexter please take this order. You have to please!"
He looked at the ticket and said almost immediately, "No way man! *&$# no! I'm not going there"!
I was puzzled, "Why not"? I asked.
"The last time I went there this big fat hairy guy came to the door in his underwear"!
God help me. Well, I had no choice. I had to swallow that grape flavored kool-aid and take that order to that house. When I knocked on the door, the young lady in question answered it. "Uh, that will be $18.75 ma'am." I said in my most redneck sounding, sling blade voice. I even had my Pizza Hut Hat pulled way down over my face. She gave me a twenty. I handed her the pizza. I doubt she even recognized me. What a disaster.
Being single, you always hear, "Hey, I know someone I want you to meet". Now, in your twenties, that can still be intriguing. Thirties and forties? A nightmare. Well, a friend of mine knew a young lady he wanted me to call and he gave me her number. I called. She sounded very sweet and really cute. We must have talked a long time. We seemed to click very well. She attended a local college and had a good job. Why not?
So, I called her a few more times and I was very curious as to what she looked like. As for her personal life, well, she did have some issues but we all have them right? Actually, she had quite a few issues and the more we talked the more grim the situation became. I mean, I still liked her as a person but the prospect of their being anything between us romantically seemed very problematic.
So, in a desperate attempt to salvage the situation, I became very shallow and superficial. I said, " Hey I have an idea. I will mail you a picture of me and you mail me a picture of you". Pathetic. Smooth move Cialis.
She happily agreed, surprisingly. Well, a couple of days later I went out to the mailbox and opened up the pics I received in the mail. For a second, I just stared at them. Then, it hit me. "Oh God no! No!! What am I going to do now"!?! That poor girl was not the pick of the litter by any means. I can't say I was either but you have to find someone at least decent looking and that your attracted too right?.
Then I felt so bad. I was almost physically sick with utter disappointment, and now, I knew there was no way in a devils Hades I could call her back, and talk to her with a straight face. The trauma was just too great! I just sighed and shook my head. "Now she is going to think that because I didn't call her back I think she's......but it's true!! Oh God what am I going to do!?! Oh that poor girl! Why can't I be an insensitive jerk just for once??"
Well, it took a day or two to get over the utter shock and awe of the situation. Then, one evening, I went to work at the local pizza joint. It was a part time job. The night had been fairly busy, like any other night. But then it slowed down and I found myself folding pizza boxes. Then I heard our very friendly, sweet, lesbian manager say, "David, your up!"
I looked at the ticket as I picked up the pizza bag. Then, I froze in almost sheer panic. The last name on the ticket was the last name of the girl that my friend tried to hook me up with. "Oh god no I can't take this order! Please no! I can't go through with this! You don't understand! Out of all the addresses in this town!"
I could not deliver a pizza to this girls house. Heck no! I looked at the driver standing next to me. "Dexter please take this order. You have to please!"
He looked at the ticket and said almost immediately, "No way man! *&$# no! I'm not going there"!
I was puzzled, "Why not"? I asked.
"The last time I went there this big fat hairy guy came to the door in his underwear"!
God help me. Well, I had no choice. I had to swallow that grape flavored kool-aid and take that order to that house. When I knocked on the door, the young lady in question answered it. "Uh, that will be $18.75 ma'am." I said in my most redneck sounding, sling blade voice. I even had my Pizza Hut Hat pulled way down over my face. She gave me a twenty. I handed her the pizza. I doubt she even recognized me. What a disaster.
Sometimes total coincidence might God's way of remaining anonymous.
I heard someone say once that you should never regret any mistakes that you make in life. The reason is, because at that time, it was exactly what you wanted. I just wish that it were that easy...for me anyhow. Anyway, In this case her name was Rachael. I met Rachael in a different decade, a different state, and a different city. Since we went to the same church, shared close mutual friendships, went to the same singles class, (and we lived in the same apartment complex) so meeting this woman was almost not an option.
Anyhow, to make a long story short, and to avoid making the reader an unlicensed therapist, I moved on after that. Literally. I pulled up stakes and moved out of town just up the road about 25 miles where I stayed about eleven months I suppose. I reconnected with childhood friends, worked a full time job and made new friends. I lived in one of the nicest apartments in town. I also attended a decent church. It was truly a great time and I will never forget the people and friendships I made.
However, despite the fact this brief time period was a virtual "oasis" in my life, finances eventually convinced me to move to greener pastures. I found myself in the Atlanta metro area once again by the summer of 2001. I wasted little time. I got a full time job as a sales representative with great benefits that enabled me to travel a lot. I got heavily involved in the Atlanta music scene and I joined a new church and subsequently got involved in the music program there. The fact that I met a lot of new friends almost goes without saying. I even got back in touch with cousins, aunts, and uncles. By all intents and purposes Rachael was gone with the wind like Scarlett O'Hara and Tara Plantation. Banished forever in the wasteland of my past.
Then came that morning in September 2003 (or was it 2002)?
The annoying sound of my alarm clock FINALLY rattled me awake. It had been buzzing for nearly an hour and I knew now that I was going to be late for work. I almost never overslept this bad! It was 7:45 a.m. I frustratingly slammed down on the top of the alarm clock suddenly silencing it. Groggily and oh so reluctantly, I slithered out of bed. I called my job, told them I was running late, and got ready and headed out the door. "There goes my next raise." I mumbled out loud.
Morning rush hour was horrible and I got to work forty five minutes late. My supervisor wasn't pleased. So, I did the usual paperwork, ran out to the dock, loaded my truck, did more paperwork, and headed off towards I-85 as fast as I could. I was loaded down too. Those auto body parts were strapped down very tight........or so I thought. As soon as my tires left the exit onto I-85 it was pedal to the metal the whole way. However, it wasn't fifteen minutes into the trip that someone pulled up beside of me and yelled that a part had flown off my truck. I looked in my rear view mirror and sure enough there was a gaping opening where the net used to be strapped down. Man, that's never happened before!! I'm responsible for those parts and if I loose one; I PAY FOR IT OUT OF MY POCKET!! Written company policy! Just another headache.
I couldn't just stop and look on I-85, the second busiest interstate in Atlanta, for a missing auto body part. So, I had to take the nearest exit to turn around, go back, and hope I could find it or at least see it. Well, the nearest exit was Exit 111 to Lawrenceville-Suwanee Road in Suwanee, Ga. I was familiar with this ramp because I had customers off this road usually everyday. However, today I had none this far south. I came to a stop at the red light there atop the exit. I just sat there and I tell you, I was mad as h***. "I just can't afford to be buying auto body parts for my customers".
Well, as I sat there in that Ford F-150 flat bed something caught my eye off to my right. I turned slightly to my right to notice a small four door bluish grey car (possibly an Oldsmobile, Buick, or Pontiac but who really knows for sure.) come to a near sudden stop in the next lane right beside my truck. It came to such a stop that the little boy wearing a little baseball cap in the front seat nearly lurched forward and his mother reached out with her right arm to keep him from hurting himself. I glanced the car over momentarily. The car had to be more than a few years old with a lot of miles on it. The back seat was full of blankets, pillows, and other luggage and the license plate was registered in South Carolina.
'That poor woman from South Carolina must feel totally out of her element in this big city. Especially, being all alone with her little son', I thought. Very quickly my mind went to a time when I was that little boy and that woman was my mother. My dad was gone a lot being a traveling evangelist for the Church of God in Cleveland, Tennessee and mom and I would travel from Cleveland, to Jonesboro, Ga. to see her folks there. Many times we were all alone out on the road together just like this woman and her son were now. I couldn't help but feel for them both.
I glanced away momentarily but as I looked back in that direction I caught a glimpse of the woman's face. Her eyes were wide with apparent apprehension and both her hands were firmly gripped to the steering wheel. She was looking quickly back and forth across a busy intersection that, to her, I'm sure looked just a tad bit treacherous. When she looked toward my direction I noticed her eyes, and her hair. Then it hit me....HARD! What the h***"?!? I was absolutely stunned by what I saw. What were the odds? I almost couldn't believe my eyes but I didn't have much of a choice.
It was Rachael! I was positive of it! I'd know her face anywhere. How? What? I would have called to her but both our windows were rolled up. She looked a little more mature, but not by much and despite the fact my intellectual side kept telling me that it was all too wild and bizarre a coincidence to be true, and that I was just imagining the whole thing..... my heart said otherwise. Gone was the sporty black convertible she used to drive as well as the fashionable sunglasses. Now, she strongly resembled a struggling young everyday mother with her son trying to make ends meet by doing with less. I couldn't help but feel a twinge of empathy. She also had a slight look of desperation of her face. Now, she and her little son (about five or so) were both two strangers all alone in a big city just passing through. I suddenly found myself empathizing with someone I knew rather than just a total stranger. Suddenly, and almost in the blink of an eye, the situation took on a whole new meaning.
The light suddenly turned green and surprisingly, instead of going across the intersection and back onto the interstate, she took a left as I had too as well. I drove right behind her car trying not to follow too closely and hoping that she wouldn't look in her rear view mirror and recognize me. We drove all the way over the overpass. Then, it was decision time! The next left was approaching. I noticed she suddenly pulled into a gas station parking lot. Should I follow her in and offer to buy her some gas? Should I offer to treat her and her little son to a nice breakfast at that Cracker Barrel just down the road? I would have loved to do that! It most certainly was in my nature to do those things. And even God Himself knows, under most circumstances, I would have given her every dollar in my wallet and the jacket I was wearing if she needed it.
It's a very complicated story. However, as agonizing as it was, and as conflicted and as torn as I was about what to do, (Call it instinct, intuition....or past experience) I honestly came to the conclusion that Rachael probably wouldn't want to see me. I made my decision and hung a sharp left. As I accelerated down the ramp onto I-85 south to look for that part, I had this foreboding feeling I had just blown a major opportunity to make things right.
I just had trouble grasping the fact of what just happened and who I just saw. I might have well had just seen a ghost or been abducted by aliens. Needless to say I couldn't find that part that flew off my truck. But the reality, and the gravity, of the situation began to set in very heavily. Had I not been late for work that morning, (which seldom happened) and had that part not flown off my truck (which never happened), at that particular spot on that extremely busy interstate traveled by many thousands of people from all over the country in a single day: I would have had no reason to ramp off the highway onto that exit and wait at that light. I would have never seen Rachael on top of that ramp at that exact time and place just for those few moments.
And the Lord only knows why she ramped off the interstate when she did at that exact moment, place, and time as well. I asked an administrator/counselor friend of mine at Precept Ministries one time, (after relating this whole drama to him) if the chances of seeing Rachael on the Exit 111 ramp or an alien abduction were greater? We both jokingly concluded that an alien abduction was more probable.
Anyhow, I proceeded north once again only to realize that the auto body part I searched for was gone for good. As I came again to Exit 111 I, once again, took that exit just to see if Rachael was still at that station. I got to the top of the ramp, looked to my left and noticed....her car was gone. Oh well. Like Scarlet O'Hara and Tara Plantation; Gone With The Wind once again. As I proceeded north it began to dawn on me that with the Lord, who is all knowing and all sovereign, there are no such things as chance or "odds".
So I began to pray aloud asking God what was going on. Why did he allow me to see her at the top of that ramp? Was she in trouble? Did she need anything? Did she need help? Did the Lord present an opportunity for me to help her out and I just blow it? Why did the Lord allow me to meet her at all? What was the point or the purpose of all this anyhow?
I was confused and completely out of answers. But I guess that's right where the Lord wanted me I suppose. As I continued northward on I-85 I continued to ask the Lord similar questions. "Lord, if you spoke to me audibly about this right here and now; what would you say? I would really like to know".
Then, as I continued to ask the Lord the same questions over again, a song by the popular band Mercy Me, off the album "Spoken For" (INO records 10/02) came on the local Christian radio station and it really got my attention. It was a soft ballad with just piano for a few bars in the intro. The soothing piano and stringed instruments really accompanied the beautiful Braselton, Georgia scenery (near Chateau Elan) with all the vineyards, green rolling hills, and pine trees. It also reflected my extremely contemplative mood. The song was, "Word of God Speak" and the words went like this:
I'm finding myself at a loss for words And the funny thing is it's okay
The last thing I need is to be heard But to hear what You would say
"Word of God speak Would You pour down like rain
Washing my eyes to see Your majesty
To be still and know That You're in this place
Please let me stay and rest In Your holiness
Word of God speak....."
I was floored, flummoxed, or bamboozled. There was hardly a word to describe how I felt. I just remember that the whole time I felt as if I had gone to work in The Twilight Zone. Then, as I pulled up to the warehouse that evening another reality hit. Now, I had to go tell my supervisor I had lost an after market grille for a 2002 Jeep Grand Cherokee. This would not be cheap!. I just knew it!
As I told my boss that I lost the part I expected him to tell me to go see the accountant to make financial/compensatory arrangements. That's what always happened when other drivers lost merchandise. Always. Instead, he just looked at me and said, "Don't worry about it. We'll eat it this time". I about fell out in the floor like someone at a miracle crusade! That WAS a miracle!!
Several years later I still wonder as to why I met that precious young lady at all. It obviously wasn't for reasons that I so wrongly assumed. I guess, as Kidd Rock said, "Only God Knows Why". Even now I try to rationalize the situation and tell myself that it was all happenstance and random chance. Sheryl Crow put out a song not too long ago called, "My favorite mistake". If I didn't believe in the sovereignty of God and His control over the lives of those who love Him, I would definitely label Rachael as my favorite mistake and chalk this whole thing up to karma (the eastern law of fate) and bizarre coincidence.
However, with the Lord being all knowing and all seeing, and in the much broader perspective; there are no real mistakes. God knew that everything would happen the way it did the day he brought her into my life those years ago.
I know as a Christian I am to be the salt of the earth, a light to the world, as well as an encourager to those believers who need it. With Rachael, personally; I seriously doubt if I was any of those things. Only the Lord knows for sure. I just know that God can take our mistakes, and our blunders, and use them to affect the lives of others in ways we may never conceive or understand until, "When we all get to heaven" as the old hymnal goes.
"For God causes all things to work together for good for those that love Him and are called according to His purpose." Romans 8:28
"It is true that a fellow cannot ignore women - but he can think of them as he ought - as sisters, not as sparring partners." Jim Elliot
Anyhow, to make a long story short, and to avoid making the reader an unlicensed therapist, I moved on after that. Literally. I pulled up stakes and moved out of town just up the road about 25 miles where I stayed about eleven months I suppose. I reconnected with childhood friends, worked a full time job and made new friends. I lived in one of the nicest apartments in town. I also attended a decent church. It was truly a great time and I will never forget the people and friendships I made.
However, despite the fact this brief time period was a virtual "oasis" in my life, finances eventually convinced me to move to greener pastures. I found myself in the Atlanta metro area once again by the summer of 2001. I wasted little time. I got a full time job as a sales representative with great benefits that enabled me to travel a lot. I got heavily involved in the Atlanta music scene and I joined a new church and subsequently got involved in the music program there. The fact that I met a lot of new friends almost goes without saying. I even got back in touch with cousins, aunts, and uncles. By all intents and purposes Rachael was gone with the wind like Scarlett O'Hara and Tara Plantation. Banished forever in the wasteland of my past.
Then came that morning in September 2003 (or was it 2002)?
The annoying sound of my alarm clock FINALLY rattled me awake. It had been buzzing for nearly an hour and I knew now that I was going to be late for work. I almost never overslept this bad! It was 7:45 a.m. I frustratingly slammed down on the top of the alarm clock suddenly silencing it. Groggily and oh so reluctantly, I slithered out of bed. I called my job, told them I was running late, and got ready and headed out the door. "There goes my next raise." I mumbled out loud.
Morning rush hour was horrible and I got to work forty five minutes late. My supervisor wasn't pleased. So, I did the usual paperwork, ran out to the dock, loaded my truck, did more paperwork, and headed off towards I-85 as fast as I could. I was loaded down too. Those auto body parts were strapped down very tight........or so I thought. As soon as my tires left the exit onto I-85 it was pedal to the metal the whole way. However, it wasn't fifteen minutes into the trip that someone pulled up beside of me and yelled that a part had flown off my truck. I looked in my rear view mirror and sure enough there was a gaping opening where the net used to be strapped down. Man, that's never happened before!! I'm responsible for those parts and if I loose one; I PAY FOR IT OUT OF MY POCKET!! Written company policy! Just another headache.
I couldn't just stop and look on I-85, the second busiest interstate in Atlanta, for a missing auto body part. So, I had to take the nearest exit to turn around, go back, and hope I could find it or at least see it. Well, the nearest exit was Exit 111 to Lawrenceville-Suwanee Road in Suwanee, Ga. I was familiar with this ramp because I had customers off this road usually everyday. However, today I had none this far south. I came to a stop at the red light there atop the exit. I just sat there and I tell you, I was mad as h***. "I just can't afford to be buying auto body parts for my customers".
Well, as I sat there in that Ford F-150 flat bed something caught my eye off to my right. I turned slightly to my right to notice a small four door bluish grey car (possibly an Oldsmobile, Buick, or Pontiac but who really knows for sure.) come to a near sudden stop in the next lane right beside my truck. It came to such a stop that the little boy wearing a little baseball cap in the front seat nearly lurched forward and his mother reached out with her right arm to keep him from hurting himself. I glanced the car over momentarily. The car had to be more than a few years old with a lot of miles on it. The back seat was full of blankets, pillows, and other luggage and the license plate was registered in South Carolina.
'That poor woman from South Carolina must feel totally out of her element in this big city. Especially, being all alone with her little son', I thought. Very quickly my mind went to a time when I was that little boy and that woman was my mother. My dad was gone a lot being a traveling evangelist for the Church of God in Cleveland, Tennessee and mom and I would travel from Cleveland, to Jonesboro, Ga. to see her folks there. Many times we were all alone out on the road together just like this woman and her son were now. I couldn't help but feel for them both.
I glanced away momentarily but as I looked back in that direction I caught a glimpse of the woman's face. Her eyes were wide with apparent apprehension and both her hands were firmly gripped to the steering wheel. She was looking quickly back and forth across a busy intersection that, to her, I'm sure looked just a tad bit treacherous. When she looked toward my direction I noticed her eyes, and her hair. Then it hit me....HARD! What the h***"?!? I was absolutely stunned by what I saw. What were the odds? I almost couldn't believe my eyes but I didn't have much of a choice.
It was Rachael! I was positive of it! I'd know her face anywhere. How? What? I would have called to her but both our windows were rolled up. She looked a little more mature, but not by much and despite the fact my intellectual side kept telling me that it was all too wild and bizarre a coincidence to be true, and that I was just imagining the whole thing..... my heart said otherwise. Gone was the sporty black convertible she used to drive as well as the fashionable sunglasses. Now, she strongly resembled a struggling young everyday mother with her son trying to make ends meet by doing with less. I couldn't help but feel a twinge of empathy. She also had a slight look of desperation of her face. Now, she and her little son (about five or so) were both two strangers all alone in a big city just passing through. I suddenly found myself empathizing with someone I knew rather than just a total stranger. Suddenly, and almost in the blink of an eye, the situation took on a whole new meaning.
The light suddenly turned green and surprisingly, instead of going across the intersection and back onto the interstate, she took a left as I had too as well. I drove right behind her car trying not to follow too closely and hoping that she wouldn't look in her rear view mirror and recognize me. We drove all the way over the overpass. Then, it was decision time! The next left was approaching. I noticed she suddenly pulled into a gas station parking lot. Should I follow her in and offer to buy her some gas? Should I offer to treat her and her little son to a nice breakfast at that Cracker Barrel just down the road? I would have loved to do that! It most certainly was in my nature to do those things. And even God Himself knows, under most circumstances, I would have given her every dollar in my wallet and the jacket I was wearing if she needed it.
It's a very complicated story. However, as agonizing as it was, and as conflicted and as torn as I was about what to do, (Call it instinct, intuition....or past experience) I honestly came to the conclusion that Rachael probably wouldn't want to see me. I made my decision and hung a sharp left. As I accelerated down the ramp onto I-85 south to look for that part, I had this foreboding feeling I had just blown a major opportunity to make things right.
I just had trouble grasping the fact of what just happened and who I just saw. I might have well had just seen a ghost or been abducted by aliens. Needless to say I couldn't find that part that flew off my truck. But the reality, and the gravity, of the situation began to set in very heavily. Had I not been late for work that morning, (which seldom happened) and had that part not flown off my truck (which never happened), at that particular spot on that extremely busy interstate traveled by many thousands of people from all over the country in a single day: I would have had no reason to ramp off the highway onto that exit and wait at that light. I would have never seen Rachael on top of that ramp at that exact time and place just for those few moments.
And the Lord only knows why she ramped off the interstate when she did at that exact moment, place, and time as well. I asked an administrator/counselor friend of mine at Precept Ministries one time, (after relating this whole drama to him) if the chances of seeing Rachael on the Exit 111 ramp or an alien abduction were greater? We both jokingly concluded that an alien abduction was more probable.
Anyhow, I proceeded north once again only to realize that the auto body part I searched for was gone for good. As I came again to Exit 111 I, once again, took that exit just to see if Rachael was still at that station. I got to the top of the ramp, looked to my left and noticed....her car was gone. Oh well. Like Scarlet O'Hara and Tara Plantation; Gone With The Wind once again. As I proceeded north it began to dawn on me that with the Lord, who is all knowing and all sovereign, there are no such things as chance or "odds".
So I began to pray aloud asking God what was going on. Why did he allow me to see her at the top of that ramp? Was she in trouble? Did she need anything? Did she need help? Did the Lord present an opportunity for me to help her out and I just blow it? Why did the Lord allow me to meet her at all? What was the point or the purpose of all this anyhow?
I was confused and completely out of answers. But I guess that's right where the Lord wanted me I suppose. As I continued northward on I-85 I continued to ask the Lord similar questions. "Lord, if you spoke to me audibly about this right here and now; what would you say? I would really like to know".
Then, as I continued to ask the Lord the same questions over again, a song by the popular band Mercy Me, off the album "Spoken For" (INO records 10/02) came on the local Christian radio station and it really got my attention. It was a soft ballad with just piano for a few bars in the intro. The soothing piano and stringed instruments really accompanied the beautiful Braselton, Georgia scenery (near Chateau Elan) with all the vineyards, green rolling hills, and pine trees. It also reflected my extremely contemplative mood. The song was, "Word of God Speak" and the words went like this:
I'm finding myself at a loss for words And the funny thing is it's okay
The last thing I need is to be heard But to hear what You would say
"Word of God speak Would You pour down like rain
Washing my eyes to see Your majesty
To be still and know That You're in this place
Please let me stay and rest In Your holiness
Word of God speak....."
I was floored, flummoxed, or bamboozled. There was hardly a word to describe how I felt. I just remember that the whole time I felt as if I had gone to work in The Twilight Zone. Then, as I pulled up to the warehouse that evening another reality hit. Now, I had to go tell my supervisor I had lost an after market grille for a 2002 Jeep Grand Cherokee. This would not be cheap!. I just knew it!
As I told my boss that I lost the part I expected him to tell me to go see the accountant to make financial/compensatory arrangements. That's what always happened when other drivers lost merchandise. Always. Instead, he just looked at me and said, "Don't worry about it. We'll eat it this time". I about fell out in the floor like someone at a miracle crusade! That WAS a miracle!!
Several years later I still wonder as to why I met that precious young lady at all. It obviously wasn't for reasons that I so wrongly assumed. I guess, as Kidd Rock said, "Only God Knows Why". Even now I try to rationalize the situation and tell myself that it was all happenstance and random chance. Sheryl Crow put out a song not too long ago called, "My favorite mistake". If I didn't believe in the sovereignty of God and His control over the lives of those who love Him, I would definitely label Rachael as my favorite mistake and chalk this whole thing up to karma (the eastern law of fate) and bizarre coincidence.
However, with the Lord being all knowing and all seeing, and in the much broader perspective; there are no real mistakes. God knew that everything would happen the way it did the day he brought her into my life those years ago.
I know as a Christian I am to be the salt of the earth, a light to the world, as well as an encourager to those believers who need it. With Rachael, personally; I seriously doubt if I was any of those things. Only the Lord knows for sure. I just know that God can take our mistakes, and our blunders, and use them to affect the lives of others in ways we may never conceive or understand until, "When we all get to heaven" as the old hymnal goes.
"For God causes all things to work together for good for those that love Him and are called according to His purpose." Romans 8:28
"It is true that a fellow cannot ignore women - but he can think of them as he ought - as sisters, not as sparring partners." Jim Elliot
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