ESCAPE - Chapter 3

     I went out to my car and drove to the hospital. I found the room number for Deborah Wrangle and went up to that floor. As I passed the nurses’ station, a nurse stopped me.

    “Where are you going?”

    “I would like to see Deborah Wrangle.”

    “Are you on the list?”

    “What list?”

    “There is a list of people who can visit her. Are you her minister?”

    “I don’t know where she goes to church. Her husband called about an hour ago and asked me to come to the hospital and visit her.”

    The charge nurse hesitated. A nurse behind her said,

    “Let him go ahead. He has been a minister in this town for years. He’s honest. If he says Mr. Wrangle called, probably Mrs. Wrangle asked for him. Goodness knows that she needs help from above.”

    The scene in Mrs. Wrangle’s room looked all too familiar. She looked just like Laura had looked for the past week or so. My stomach tightened and my breath caught. How can I endure this? I am only human. I need to be grieving for Laura. Instead I am faced with a rerun of her agony. Mr. Wrangle greeted me with a nervous handshake and a tortured look on his face. I approached the bed and Mrs. Wrangle’s eyes brightened.

    “Thank you for coming”, she whispered.

    I read a Psalm and then placed my hand on her hand and prayed. My heart poured out as I prayed. I believe that the Lord directed me there by His gracious providence. I felt my soul stir with the conviction that He intended to work powerfully in her and that He wanted the Wrangles to know that it was the Lord who had worked. I left the hospital convinced that she was going to begin improving. I don’t remember ever feeling that way after a hospital visit.

    It was lunch time. I stopped at the Chinese restaurant and ordered a meal to take out. The clerk took my money, handed me a takeout container, and pointed to the buffet.

    At home after I ate, I bolted to my study. The visit to Mrs. Wrangle had inspired my sermon for Sunday. I wouldn’t look for an old sermon. There was a sermon that was fresh and was overflowing from my heart. I sat at my desk and the message seemed to pour onto the computer screen. I have a Bible program that I run simultaneously with the word processing program. As Bible verses would come to mind, I would use the search function in the Bible program. When I found the reference, then I would paste the verse into the sermon. 

    The sermon that formed itself was “THE POWER OF GOD”. I had three main points God’s Power To Overcome Sin, God’s Power To Overcome Pain and Suffering, and God’s Power To Overcome Death. I was at the computer for over five hours, but at the end of that time I had a sermon for Sunday. I printed it out and put the pages in my Bible on the desk.

    It was dark outside when I left the study and went to the kitchen to make a cup of instant decaf coffee. While I was drinking it, the phone rang.

    “Dad, this is Philip. We just checked in to the motel. Have you had supper yet?”

    “Hey, Philip, it is so good to hear your voice. No, I haven’t eaten yet. I worked all afternoon on my sermon for Sunday. I had just finished and came out of the study to make myself a cup of coffee.”

    “Good. We’ll pick up a couple pizzas on the way and be at your place in a half hour or so.”

It was reassuring to hear Philip’s voice and to know that he was in town. Philip, the first born. The Bible speaks of the significance of a man’s first born son, the strength of his youth. I had always thought that if I had big trouble that Philip is the one that I would turn to for help.

    When Philip and Molly came through the front door, carrying sleepy Billy and Polly in their arms, my loneliness was swept away. I showed Phil and Molly back to my bedroom so they could lay Billy and Polly on the bed. Both of them went to sleep immediately or maybe they were already asleep.

    We went to the dining room table and opened the pizza boxes. I retrieved my coffee cup and asked if they wanted tea, coffee or soda. They both opted for cold water. I retrieved a couple bottles of water from the refrigerator. After we had eaten our fill of pizza, we retired to the living room.

    “Dad, we need to talk about a looming problem. As soon as the motel clerk saw my name, she asked if I was related to Reverend Sterner. She then proceeded to tell me what she thought I ought to know. She said that the preacher’s wife was calling for help and ringing her bell, but the preacher just slept on through it, or maybe deliberately didn’t help her because he wanted her inheritance. I know that she is repeating malicious gossip, but we have to decide how we are going to deal with it.”

    “Philip, I have heard part of the gossip. This the first time I have heard Laura’s inheritance added to the gossip. Here are the facts. I slept soundly through the night when Laura died. I found her with her mouth wide open and her hand clutching the schoolmarm bell. Her body was cold and stiff. Mrs. Koontz, one of Laura’s aides came soon after that and when I told her that Laura was dead, she shoved past me and went into Laura’s room. She began to tell all over town that Laura had cried out for help and rung her bell for help but that either I was sleeping through all that noise, or else I wasn’t even in the house.

    “When Dr. Rumfeldt heard of that gossip, he left his office and came here to see me. He told me that Laura was much too weak to cry out for help, that she was probably trying to gasp for air, but her diaphragm and lungs had ceased to function. He said that even if she had rung the bell and I had come to help her, there was nothing I could have done.  Patsy Godwin, the hospice nurse, said that if I had called them, they could not have sent an ambulance. As part of Laura’s Living Will there was a Do Not Resuscitate order.

    “As for the inheritance: Of the original $250,000 there is slightly more than $30,000 left. The rest of it was spent on medical bills and paying for aides to be with her.”

    “Dad, I believe you. I am warning you that gossip is vicious and you are going to be hurt. You don’t deserve that, especially when you are hurting over Mom’s death.”

    Molly came and together with Phil hugged me.  They went to the bedroom for the children, put on their coats and hats, and left to go back to the motel. I put the remaining pizza slices in baggies and placed them in the refrigerator. Then I threw the pizza boxes in the trash. I locked the front door, turned out the lights, and went back to the bedroom.

**********

    At the motel Tom, Matthew, and Traci were venting. They heard the same story that Phil heard when they checked in. The three had driven to a neighboring town to an Italian restaurant that served mixed drinks with the meals. They had had drinks on the plane, had taken on more alcohol at supper. Now an open bottle of single malt Scotch was on the table in Matthew and Traci’s room.

    Tom - “We’re not going to let him get away with it. All the time when we were growing up, he was always too busy with his church work. It was Mom who was always there for us. Now we hear that Mom died because he neglected her just like he neglected us.”

    Matthew - “Not only so, but Mom told me soon after she got that inheritance that it was going to be for the children after she was gone. That inheritance belongs to us, not to him. I’m going to get it if I have to wring it out of him.”

    Traci – “With one of you being a lawyer and the other an accountant, you could really make life uncomfortable.”

    Tom and Matthew clinked their glasses together.

**********

    I went to bed and prayed that I would be able to sleep. A verse from the Psalms darted about in my mind. It says something about the bread of sorrow and then “…He gives His beloved sleep.” Almost as soon as I shut my eyes I was asleep. In my sleep I dreamed of Laura. I dreamed of happier times, of Laura smiling, laughing, and giggling.

    Saturday after breakfast and personal devotions, I checked my clothes to be sure that I had enough white shirts ironed for the public viewing this evening, the worship service tomorrow, and the funeral service. I had my sermon for tomorrow. I tried to plan Laura’s funeral service. I had the Scripture passages that Laura had asked to be used in her funeral and the hymns she had picked. I knew from long experience that family members often wanted to participate. One or more of our sons might want to speak about his memories of his mother. I doubted if any of them would want to sing or read a poem.

    The door bell rang. It was Mrs. Alfritz, president of the women’s society at Church.

    “Mrs. Alfritz, it is so good of you to stop by. I can’t invite you to come in because I am here alone and I don’t think it would be proper. It would look unseemly even though it is not. We can talk out here on the porch.”

    “Pastor, I just wanted you to know that the women’s society will have refreshments in the Fellowship Hall following the worship service tomorrow for the congregation to express their condolences to the family members. Please announce that in the service tomorrow.”

    “That is so gracious and thoughtful of you ladies, Mrs. Alfritz. Please express my appreciation to them.”

    She smiled and retreated down the steps.

    That brought another thought to my mind. I called the motel and asked for Philip.

    “Philip, this is Dad. After the funeral we will go out to Hazelwood Presbyterian Church for the burial. By the time that is over it will be close to 6 p.m. It might be nice for the whole family to go to some restaurant and have supper together. Would you get together with Tom and Matthew, find out where they would like to go and then make reservations at the restaurant for us? They might have a private room that we could use.”

    “Sure, Dad, that sounds like a good idea. I’ll get right on it.”

    “While you are talking to them, find out if any or all of you want to have a chance to share your memory of your Mom during the funeral service.”

    “I know that I do.”

    “Thank you, Philip. Tell Molly that while she is here, if there is anything that was Laura’s that she would like to have, I’m sure Laura would like her to have it. Laura loved Molly like a daughter. She would want Laura to remember her.”

    “We aren’t leaving until Tuesday. Monday we can come over and discuss that.”

    I went out for a walk. I knew I should be at the house, but I just had to walk off all the tension and all the mixed emotions that had become tangled up in my mind. I wanted to grieve for Laura, but it seemed like there was a crowd of people conspiring to prevent me from grieving and feeling the loss of someone I loved very deeply.  I walked and walked until I was out of breath and becoming weak. When I returned to the house I ate a bagel and then fell asleep on the couch.

    I was awakened by a loud banging on the door. It was Nathaniel.

    “Nathaniel, it is so good to see you. How are you?”

    “Well, coming here I was just sad, and feeling bad for you. I know how much you loved Mom. When I got to the motel some flip mouthed broad began to tell me a bunch of vicious gossip about Mom’s death before I had even registered. I told her that if she was a man I would punch her in the face. As it was, I wasn’t going to stay in a motel that hired witches. With that I turned around and left the motel. If it is all right with you, I’ll crash on your sofa the next two nights.”

ESCAPE - Chapter 2

   The following year we decided to spend one week visiting with each of our sons and their families. We went to visit Philip first. Laura and Molly spent most of the time talking, and working in the garden and kitchen. I spent as much time as I could with the grandchildren. Billy and Polly both have small horses. They love to ride. Billy was trying to learn to lasso. He practiced on me. Polly is shy. She would work for a long time making a daisy chain necklace or hollyhock dolls and then would bring them to me for my approval and praise.

   When we went to visit Nathaniel, he was not able to sit still for long. He took us sightseeing most of the time we were with him. He put us in a motel and took us to eat in cafes and restaurants. We never saw his quarters. After several days he told us that he would be out on a field problem for about a week. We left and decided to go to Mobile, Alabama to sightsee for the rest of Nathan’s week.

   From Mobile it was an easy drive to Atlanta, Georgia where Thomas is a lawyer. Tom is shorter than the rest of his brothers. He is thin and wiry. Tom’s wife Ofelia is a Cuban-American. Her father was a lawyer in Cuba before Castro took over. After the Communist takeover, he had to work as a plumber’s assistant. They escaped to America when Ofelia was twelve. She went to high school and college in America. Ofelia is a very attractive woman. She has dark hair, dark eyes, and an attractive body. 

   Ofelia is a fervent Catholic believer and has insisted on their children being raised in the   Catholic Church and going to Catholic schools. Tom doesn’t attend the Catholic Church; he no longer attends any church. They have three daughters Claudia, Mariela, and Elena. Tom had wanted one of his daughters to be named Laura, but Ofelia refused because Laura isn’t Catholic. Our visit there was uncomfortable. The girls sensed their mother’s disapproval of us and were polite but not open and warm toward us. We had gone to the wedding and met Ofelia and her parents. Tom and Ofelia had never visited, so it was the first time the girls met us.

   Our son Matthew lives in Charlotte, North Carolina where he is an accountant. Matthew is the image of a successful business man. His suits and shoes look expensive. Matthew and his wife belong to a country club where he plays golf and his wife plays tennis. His wife Traci comes from a wealthy family and she had been a debutante. She is very attractive and dresses like a fashion plate. Traci was very warm and friendly to us but somewhat condescending. Their two boys, Frank - ten years old and Rudolf - eleven are rough and ready. We all went from Charlotte to the Outer Banks and stayed in a house Traci’s family owns. I enjoyed going to the Wright Brothers museum and to the lighthouses with Matthew and the boys. Laura and Traci visited the ornamental garden and went shopping.

   It was a tiring trip and we were glad to come back home. Laura had a garden that summer. It was her last year of happy memories. The next year her cancer returned.

   We went back to the A.D. Anderson Clinic in Houston. The doctors there told us that the cancer had metastasized. They had an experimental treatment which they tried. At first there seemed to be improvement, but it did not have any lasting effect. We returned to Arkansas. Laura tried to keep going. Everyone had some suggestion they had read about or a relative had tried. She had dark circles around her eyes. She lost weight and didn’t have an appetite. Still she kept trying to go on. She would put clothes in the washer and then sit down to rest. Sometimes food would burn on the stove because she just didn’t have strength to get up and go into the kitchen to turn off the stove.

   It reached the point where she couldn’t get out of bed. I signed up for an aide to come three times a week for two hours. As the cancer progressed she had more and more pain. The doctor prescribed pain pills. I gave those to her myself. I didn’t trust the aides. I had heard stories of pain pills being stolen from patients by aides who would sell them. Gradually I had to have aides to spend more time until they were there every day from 9 a.m. to 6 p.m. Even with the help of aides it was hard for me to keep up my work as pastor. It made it harder for me that every member I visited wanted to talk about Laura.

   In the beginning of July, Laura’s doctor, Dr. Rumfeldt said to me,

“In my opinion Laura’s condition is terminal. There is no more treatment for it. All that we can do now is keep her comfortable. Her pain has reached the level that she needs morphine. That has to be administered by a nurse. The nurse will teach you to inject the morphine, but that will only be necessary in unusual circumstances. Call the Delta Hospice Center. Tell them that I am authorizing hospice care for her. They will come to your house, explain their services and have you sign the necessary papers. I want you to understand that in authorizing hospice care, I am certifying that her condition is terminal and that she only has a matter of months to live. I’m sorry Reverend Sterner.”

   That was less than four months ago. The disease continued to eat away at her body and spirit. She was in pain and miserable all the time. She could barely speak and her mind could not compose what she wanted to say. Only her eyes spoke the depths of what she could not say audibly.

   The door bell rang. I went to the door. It was the hospice nurse Patsy Godwin. Patsy is quite chubby. She is always dressed neatly and has her nails done every week. Since it is near Hallowe’en, today she has her nails painted like little jack o’ lanterns.

   “Reverend Sterner, I am so sorry for your loss. I want to wash the body. Then I will collect our equipment. Meanwhile, you can be gathering up Laura’s medications, especially the morphine and other narcotics. I will give you a copy of the inventory of equipment I collect and a list of the medications and their amounts that you return. I will give you signed copies and you will have to sign my copies. Keep them in a safe place. If there is any question later on about either the equipment or the medications, you will have proof of what you returned.”

   I went into my study and got the medicines from a locked container. I returned to the living room and placed them on the coffee table. Patsy made several trips to her car carrying medical equipment from Laura’s room. In about a half hour she came into the living room. She had a form which listed all of Laura’s medicines. She counted each pill or capsule. She counted the number of vials of morphine and estimated the amount that remained in one vial that was half full. She signed both forms and asked me to sign them. Then she gave me a copy of each.

   “You are a preacher and I’m sure you would be able to say something comforting if you were in my place. All I can say is that I’d better not say any more or I’ll start crying. I’m sorry to say goodbye to Laura. She was so sweet.”

   She left the house with tears in her eyes.

   No more than ten minutes later Dr. Rumfeldt came to the house.

   “Rev. Sterner I left my office for a few minutes to come here to see you personally. I have a lot of respect for you. I have seen dozens of preachers come and go in this town. You are one of the best. The reason I left my office is that my nurse told me that gossip started by Mrs. Koontz has spread like wildfire. She has told it around town that Laura was screaming for help and ringing her bell, but you slept through it or maybe weren’t even home. She is telling that Laura died because you didn’t come to her aid. 

   "I want you to know that Laura wasn’t strong enough to scream. Her mouth was open because she was trying to breathe, but couldn’t. She reached for the bell, but died before she could ring it. You would have woke up if she had rang that bell. You have been very faithful in caring for her. I know you are going to be hurt by this gossip. That is why I am here to tell you that I don’t think she called out or rang the bell. If she had done both and you had run to her room, there is nothing you could have done to save her. She lived a lot longer than I expected. You did all that you could. I hope you can find comfort and peace in that.”

   The coroner came shortly after Dr. Rumfeldt left. He was here such a short time that I didn’t catch his name and I don’t remember what he looked like. All I remember is that he said the cause of death was “Cancer resulting in multiple organ failure.” I called the funeral home and about an hour later they came to pick up the body. They told me that I could come down to the funeral home at my convenience to make the arrangements.

   Next, I called Mr. Fike, the Clerk of Session at the First Presbyterian Church. I told him that Laura died, that I thought the funeral would be Sunday afternoon at 4 p.m. at the Church. I asked him to have that notice put in the bulletin and to notify the other members of the Session.

“Sure Preacher Sterner. I sure am sorry to hear about Laura. Too bad you slept through it all.”

The doctor was right. The gossip had spread like wildfire. The thing about gossip is that it doesn’t require any proof. It just has to sound exciting, alarming, or shocking.

   I had an obituary which I had prepared after Laura went into hospice care. I filled in the date of her death and that she had died at home. I put down Saturday 7 p.m. – 9 p.m. at the funeral home as the time for public viewing and Sunday 4 p.m. at First Presbyterian Church as the time for the funeral.

   I took the obituary to the newspaper. This was the first time I had been out of the house. I noticed many people looking at me strangely. The gossip…..

   Back home I picked up the phone and called Philip, Thomas, and Matthew. I called the Red Cross to get the sad news to Nathaniel. This was Thursday. I told them all that we would tentatively schedule the funeral for Sunday afternoon. If it would take Nathaniel longer than that to travel home, we would have to move the day forward.

  That evening I heard from Nathaniel:

   “Dad, I got your message from the Red Cross today. The Army is making arrangements for me to fly home. I’ll probably fly into Memphis and rent a car. You can expect to see me Saturday sometime. Dad, I’m going to miss Mom. Even after she was bedridden she wrote to me every week. Every week, Dad! You can’t imagine how much that meant to me. I love you, Dad. You are a straight shooter – always have been. Mom said time and again that she married you because you are good and kind.”

   I walked around the house. It felt empty.

   Later that evening I received calls from Philip, Tom, and Matthew. Philip and Molly were the only ones bringing their children. Tom was coming alone. Matthew and Traci were coming, but were leaving their boys with the grandparents. They would all be in town Friday evening except Nathaniel who wouldn’t arrive until Saturday.

   I must try to contact Laura’s relatives. I’ll look through Laura’s address book and see if she has any of them in it.

   That night I went to bed but I couldn’t sleep. Why wasn’t I awake like this last night? The doctor and the hospice nurse told me that there is nothing that I could have done. My mind could accept what they said, but my conscience accused me in words similar to the gossip that Avril Koontz is spreading around town. I tossed and turned all night. I don’t know whether I slept or not.

   Friday morning I fixed some instant oatmeal and instant coffee for my breakfast. I went to my study and had my private devotions. Afterward I dressed in a suit and went to the funeral home. The receptionist took me back to Mr. Yarmouth’s office. I gave him the clothes that Laura had picked out months ago. I tried to order a funeral that was modest in cost. I chose one of the “inexpensive” coffins and told him that we would not need a family limousine since we all have cars. I told him the viewing would be Saturday 7 – 9 p.m. and that the funeral would be in the First Presbyterian Church at 4 p.m. on Sunday. Laura and I bought two graves at the cemetery of Hazelwood Presbyterian Church out in the country ten miles from town. That is where she will be buried following the funeral. I gave him a life insurance policy on Laura for $15,000 to guarantee payment for the funeral.

   When I returned home, I went to my study and looked for an old sermon that I could use on Sunday. In the midst of my search the phone rang. It was Mr. Wrangle. He was at the hospital.

   “Preacher, I’m here at the hospital. My wife Deborah is doing poorly. I sure would appreciate it if you would come over and read some Bible and pray over her. The doctor is doing all that he can do. I think he could use some help.”

   My duty as a minister over rode any personal feelings or needs. I agreed to come right away.

ESCAPE - Chapter 1

   I awoke with a start. The sun was streaming in through the venetian blinds. I looked at the clock; it was 8:10 a.m. Jumping out of bed, I ran to Laura’s room. She was lying on her back, mouth open as if screaming, and her right hand gripping the bell. Her limbs were stiff and locked in place; her flesh was cold; she was not breathing. She literally had a death grip on the bell. The bell was a schoolmarm’s bell we had bought years ago in an antique store while on vacation in Maine. For years it had stood on the mantle among other collectibles. When Laura became bedridden, it became useful as a way for her to call for help. During the day time, if her aide or nurse was out of the room, she could call them with the bell. At night in bed I would hear the bell, even if I were asleep, and I would go down the hall to her room and find out what she wanted.

   I went back to my room and hurriedly dressed and shaved. I called the hospice offices. Laura’s nurse, Patsy Godwin, spoke to me.

   “I found Laura in bed stiff, cold, and not breathing. She is dead.”

   “Reverend Sterner, I am so sorry to hear that Laura has passed. I will be there soon to wash the body, collect her medications and equipment, and I will call the coroner. After he has pronounced her dead, you can call the funeral home to come for her body. As you know, according to Laura’s Living Will, there was a Do Not Resuscitate order. Even if she were not cold and stiff, if she just was not breathing, and if her nurse was right there, we couldn’t have tried to get her breathing again. Our role has been to keep her as comfortable and free of pain as possible. I will also call her physician. He may want to talk to you.”

   In the kitchen I toasted a bagel, put cream cheese on it and made a cup of instant coffee. While I was eating my breakfast, the door bell rang. It was Avril Koontz, one of Laura’s daytime aides.

   “Mrs. Koontz, I won’t be needing you from now on. Laura died in her sleep last night.”

   Screaming like a wounded person, she pushed past me and ran into Laura’s room.

   “Oh Mrs. Sterner, oh how can I bear to see you like this? It looks like you were screaming for help and ringing that bell and no one would come to help you. Did your husband go out and leave you by yourself, or was he sleeping so sound that he just didn’t hear you? I’ve been telling him for a long time that he needed to hire some aides to stay here at night. He just smiled and thanked me. Now, see what happened. A dear sweet woman has passed away because no one came when she needed help.”

   “As I said, we won’t be needing you. I’ll see you out now.”

   I took my bagel and coffee in the living room, sat on the living room couch, and tried to calm down after Mrs. Koontz’s outburst. I began thinking back over the years that Laura and I had been together. This year had been our thirty-fifth year of marriage.

   We met while I was in the Air Force. I wandered into a USO in downtown Syracuse, New York. There was a friendly young lady there who greeted me. We talked for a while and I told her that I was looking for a girl to take to the movies that evening.

   “That couldn’t be me. First, because we aren’t allowed to make dates with young men who come in here. Second, and more important, because I am married to a soldier who is in the Army overseas. Listen, you seem like a really nice guy, so  I am going to bend the rules somewhat. This is the phone number of a friend of mine, Laura. Call her up, tell her Madeline gave you her number. Ask her to go to the movies. Maybe she will.”

   Laura agreed to go out with me. I picked her up at her house. It was a shabby looking house in a run down neighborhood. Her clothes were old and tired but clean. She had such a sparkling personality and made me so happy to be with her that I never again noticed her clothes. We dated several times a week after that. She was a senior in high school, two years younger than me. I didn’t often have money to take her to movies or concerts. We mostly walked and talked about our hopes and dreams for the future. I wanted to go into the ministry, but I didn’t have the money to go to college. I was at Syracuse University, studying Russian on Uncle Sam’s nickel. I planned to continue my college work in night school courses while I was in the Air Force. When I finished college then I could go to seminary on the G.I. Bill. 

   Laura wanted to get married to a good, kind, Christian man, and be a wife and mother of three or four children. Her own childhood had been as an only child in a home where her father drank a lot, her mother was constantly complaining, and they both fought with each other almost every night. Laura had made it her goal in life to be happy, to be pleasant to others, and to make them happy. She dreamed of what it would be like for children to be raised by a father who was good and kind and a mother who was pleasant and happy.

   After my courses at the University and after Laura graduated from high school, we became engaged. I was stationed overseas for a year at a remote military post. We wrote to each other several times a week. When I returned, I was stationed outside Baltimore. We were married at South Presbyterian Church in Syracuse. We rented an apartment in a row house in Baltimore.      Laura worked in a dime store during the day while I was at work. Meantime, I continued my studies in night school. A year and a half after our marriage, our first son Philip was born. Then the same month that I graduated from University College, University of Maryland our second son, Thomas was born. I stayed in the Air Force just until the end of August after I received my college degree.

   Then I went to Pittsburgh Theological Seminary. Between part time jobs, supply preaching, and the G.I.Bill I was able to support our family. Laura was very thrifty and creative in making our tiny income go a long way. She sewed curtains for our apartment, made quilts for the bed, gave herself permanents and gave me haircuts. A lot of the wives complained about how poor they had to live. Laura was always happy with every little blessing that came our way. At the end of my second year of seminary, Matthew was born. I wondered how we were going to afford a doctor and the hospital. Laura had become friends with one of the other wives who was a nurse. This young woman had taken a midwifery course. She agreed to deliver our baby at home. Everything went just like clockwork. I suppose if anything had gone wrong, the nurse would have been in big trouble.

   The last year of seminary all of the students were scouting out prospects for churches. Most wanted to go to a large church as assistant pastor. That was the accepted way to move on up to being pastor of a larger church in the next move. I started looking at the multiple church fields and eventually was called to a three church field in West Virginia.

   We moved into a big four bedroom manse that was at least a hundred years old. It was the beginning of summer. One of the church members came over and plowed up part of the back yard for a garden. He said, “We’ll watch how that garden does and judge what the Lord thinks of our new preacher.” Laura took that as a challenge. She went to the store and bought a trowel, a spade, a hoe, and a rake plus a dozen packages of seeds. Then she went to the library and borrowed a book on gardening. Mrs. Moffatt, a jolly older woman who always wore an apron and a sun bonnet, came by one day and saw Laura in the garden. She was on her knees with a trowel in one hand and the gardening book in the other. That story soon spread all over the community and quickly endeared her to the hearts of the people.

   Throughout my ministry she was truly a helpmate. She was supportive when I was discouraged or under attack in my work. She was a wonderful mother. She remembered and made a reality of her dream to raise children in a home that was pleasant and happy.  I hope that I was the sort of father she wanted for her children, one who was kind and good. She stayed at home, preferring to be with the children full time over having more money but less time with the children. After three years in that parish, we had a fourth son, Nathaniel. All of the boys grew up to be well adjusted adults and good parents.

   After the boys were grown and away from home, we used my month vacation time to travel. We went to the Grand Canyon and Pike’s Peak on one trip. Another year we went to Texas and visited Tyler, Austin, and San Antonio. Another year we went to Boston and then on up to Portland, Maine. Laura was so fascinated with the lighthouses that the following year we went to the Outer Banks of North Carolina and saw five lighthouses there. No matter where we went Laura found flower gardens. She especially enjoyed strolling leisurely through formal gardens.

   At the age of fifty two important things happened in Laura’s life. An uncle, her mother’s brother, died. He had no children of his own and had always looked on Laura as the daughter he never had. We had visited him once or twice when we were near his home in Rochester, New York. The last time had been when we vacationed in Boston and Maine. We stopped at his home on the way back. He had a nice house, but nothing ostentatious. When Lyle Ferguson died, he left his home and the bulk of his estate to charity. He left $250,000 to Laura. We put the money in the bank in Laura’s name with my name to receive it in case of death.

    About two months later Laura was diagnosed with breast cancer. The doctor recommended a radical mastectomy and Laura agreed. It was found that some cancer had spread to the lymph glands. We decided to use some of her inheritance to go to the A.D. Anderson Clinic in Houston. There the doctors made the same recommendation that Laura’s doctors in Arkansas made – chemotherapy in conjunction with radiation therapy. They told her she could get both at C.A.R.T.I. in Little Rock.

   The chemotherapy and radiation took a terrible toll on Laura. It made her sick. Her hair fell out. Her happy spirit was not only dampened, but nearly extinguished. I tried to cheer her up, but I never was as good at that as she was. In time the treatments had the desired effect. The doctors pronounced her “cancer free”. She decided to have reconstructive surgery. After all the pain and discomfort of that surgery, it failed and the implant had to be removed. She had post-surgical complications the second time and then developed cellulitis.

   It took almost a year for her to get her strength back, her hair to grow back, her happy spirit to begin to sing again. The people in the church rejoiced at her victory over the BIG C. I had taken so much time off taking Laura to treatments and helping her in the home that we decided to forego taking a vacation that year. I encouraged the boys to come for a visit now that their mother was feeling better. We have seven grandchildren but we rarely have seen them. Philip and his wife Molly came all the way from Montana with their two children.

   Philip is a proverbial country doctor in a small town. He is a “bear” of a man – strong, rough hewn. His brown hair is always tousled and his face is leathery, but he has Laura’s eyes that sparkle when he is happy or when he is mad. Of all of our boys he fits the description “good and kind”. Most of his patients live in the surrounding countryside. He goes to their home or ranch when he is needed in an emergency. Many times he has driven as far as his four wheel drive Jeep Cherokee will go, then borrowed a horse to go the rest of the way. Molly is from Montana, a real country girl. She is a little bit plump, has rosy cheeks and a ready smile. Laura loves Molly and Molly loves Laura. They are kindred spirits. Molly seems to radiate warmth. Philip jokingly calls her “my Burnside stove”. She was raised in a family of boys and her happiness is hearty.

   Nathaniel also came to visit that year. He has made a career of the Army Special Forces. Nathaniel is tall and stands or sits ramrod straight. His face is weathered, his jaws are rigid, and his eyes are steely and alert. Nathaniel has never married. He says that he doesn’t want to leave a wife and children at home while he is sent from one hot spot in the world to another. He has been in more combat than a person should ever have to see. That, I believe, is the real reason that he has never married. His eyes have a haunted look. One time at night he woke up screaming and yelling. He got up and went out walking for hours.

TWO PROCESSIONS

But thanks be to God, who in Christ always leads us in triumphal procession, and through us spreads the fragrance of the knowledge of him everywhere.  For we are the aroma of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing, to one a fragrance from death to death, to the other a fragrance from life to life. Who is sufficient for these things?  2 Corinthians 2:14-16 (ESV) 

This is one of my favorite passages in the Bible. It is so descriptive. We can see the parade passing by with our triumphant Lord Jesus Christ leading a procession of His followers. Necklaces of flowers adorn some of the heroes of the faith. Petals are tossed on the ground so the feet of the troops marching by crush them and release their aroma. There are shouts of acclaim from the bystanders and flourishes by the bands. Each contingent carries a banner identifying their unit.

At the end of the end of the ceremonial promenade are the captured enemy warriors and leaders. The end of this march will bring them to judgment – death, imprisonment, or slavery. The crushed petal waft the odor of promised death to them.

I thought of this passage of Scripture when I read of Dennis Rodman’s trip to North Korea with some other former professional basketball players from the United States. They will play an exhibition game with a North Korean baskertball team to honor the birthday of Kim Jong-Eun whom Dennis Rodman calls his “friend for life.” 

When the current dictator of North Korea, Kim Jong-Eun led the funeral procession for his father, the previous North Korean dictator, Kim Jong-Il, there were seven other men walking alongside the hearse with Kim Jong-Eun. Their position in this procession declared their power and importance. This was in December 2011.

Since that time three of these seven have lost their power and importance. U Tong-Chuk the head of State Security, and Ri Yong-Ho, a leader in the People’s Army, the Workers’ Party, and the Political Bureau were driven from power. Then several weeks ago, the most powerful man of the seven, Jang Sung-Thaek, the husband of Kim Kyoung-Hui (who is sister of the late Kim Jong-Il) along with Ri Yong-Ho and reportedly eighty others were executed. Said Kim Jong-Eun, “There is no room for two suns in the sky.”

Those of us who are following the Lord Jesus in His triumphal march to present the prizes of His conquests to the Father, do not have to fear that we will be sent to the rear of the procession, lose our position as children of God, and be damned to perdition.

I give them eternal life, and they will never perish, and no one will snatch them out of my hand. My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all, and no one is able to snatch them out of the Father's hand.  John 10:28-29 (ESV)