ESCAPE - Chapter 9

   Tuesday morning I was in the office. I was looking on the internet for some material for my sermon for next Sunday, “Soli Deo Gloria”. I asked Diane if Mr. Bigelow left my check at the office.

   “No. He said that he was going to deposit it in your checking account at the bank.”

   “Why? He has never done that before.”

   “I don’t know. Just to aggravate you, I guess.”

   A middle aged man came to the office and asked to see the preacher and just barged right into my office. He was wiry, his face weathered and dirty and his jeans, plaid shirt, Levi jacket, and boots were grimy. He smelled of old sweat and grime. He was carrying a small bag. I asked him his name.

   “Corporal Wallace G. Simonton, Sarge.”

   He went on and on in some rambling dialogue about the Army and the Veterans Administration and then at times he seemed to be on a battlefield. I interrupted,

   “Hey, Buddy, have you had breakfast yet? How about some pancakes and coffee?”

   “Sarge, can you add some sausage to those rations?”

   “Yep, let’s go.”

   I said to the secretary,

   “Call Dr. Rumfeldt and tell him I am bringing him someone I want him to see, but the man probably won’t sit still in a waiting room.”

   I took the homeless man to the local pancake house and ordered pancakes, sausage, and coffee for both of us. Before I ate, I bowed my head and thanked God for the food and asked him to bless my new friend. When I finished praying the man joined me in saying “Amen”. We both ploughed into our food. I enjoyed the pancakes and sausage most of the time.

    Occasionally the man’s odor wafted over the table to me and I almost gagged. After we ate and as we were leaving, I said,

   “Why don’t I take you to see a doctor friend of mine and let him give you a quick check-up?”

   “Okay.”

   That was easier than I expected. We drove over to Dr. Rumfeldt’s office. As soon as we walked in the door, Nurse Nancy Friborg escorted us back to an examination room.

   “Sir, you’ll have to take off your jacket, shirt, and boots so the doctor can examine you. Reverend Sterner, you can wait out in the waiting room.”

   In about fifteen minutes Dr. Rumfeldt came out to see me.

   “Joshua, that guy is nuttier than a fruit cake. I called the Veterans Administration Hospital in Little Rock and told them that I was referring him to their care. If you will just take him up there, they will admit him.”

   “Thank you, Doctor.”

   A few minutes later, the Corporal joined me in the waiting room. It was obvious that someone, probably Nancy, had gone after his face, neck, arms, and hands with soap and water. His hair had also been combed.

   “The doctor wants me to take you to the VA Hospital in Little Rock where they specialize in treating military men.”

   “Yeah, I know all about the VA. See, I have a VA card in my wallet.”

   I took my new friend on the two hour drive to Little Rock. He did not seem as odoriferous, or maybe I was becoming accustomed to the scent. If I thought that I was going to drop him off and then head for home, I was badly mistaken. There was a room full of mostly men seated in front of a long reception desk. I walked up to it with Wallace and started,

   “I have brought this man here on a referral from Dr. Rumfelt.”

   “Take a number and wait until you are called.”

   We took a number and sat in chairs waiting to be called. Wallace’s number was 117. I heard them call 58. An hour went by and they were only up to 73.

   “Preacher, I’m getting hungry.”

   We left the room and looked for a cafeteria. We found signs pointing to the cafeteria and followed them. Wallace was carrying his bag. Even when we went through the cafeteria line, he carried the bag in one hand and his tray in the other. I couldn’t watch because his hand was trembling and I was sure he would drop the tray.

   Back in the waiting room they were just up to 100. We had been waiting about half an hour when Wallace got out of his seat and walked up to the front. He engaged in a heated argument with one of the women. Just then I saw a security guard coming in a door in the front. Wallace saw him too. He reached into his bag and came out with a large pistol.

   “IT IS MY TURN NOW! DO YOU UNDERSTAND? I AM TIRED OF WAITING!”

   He never pointed the pistol. He was just waving it around. The security guard knocked it out of his hand and threw Wallace to the floor. He put handcuffs on him and took him out of the room. I got up and left and went out to my car. It smelled of Wallace. Wallace was right, it was his turn now.

   I arrived back in town just as Diane was closing the office. She gave me the messages and I briefly recounted the story of Wallace.

   “You mean he had a gun in our office and in Dr. Rumfeldt’s office and none of us knew it?”

I went home, took a bottle of Febreze out to the car and sprayed it generously on the upholstery and the rugs. When I returned to the house, I took off my suit and put it into a bag to take to the dry cleaner’s. The rest of my clothes I took to the laundry room.

   When I looked through the mail there was an envelope with Molly’s name in the return address. Inside were a letter from Billy and a letter from Polly. I looked through my note cards for two with appropriate pictures. I picked one with a picture of an Indian teepee and a horsefor Billy. Polly’s card had a picture of a girl in pigtails running through a field of flowers. I wrote a letter to each one in their card. I put a dollar for ice cream money in each of the cards. I addressed the cards to them instead of their mother. That will make them feel grown up!

   On Wednesday morning, I called Joe Sheetz and told him what the treasurer, Mr. Bigelow had done with my check. He said,

   “Give me the phone number of Mr. Bigelow and the bank. I’ll handle this.”

   In about an hour a sheepish Mr. Bigelow came to the office with my check. I found out that the bank had not deposited it, but had just held on to it. They were going to call me if I didn’t come in for it.

   I went back to where I left off yesterday looking for sermon material. I looked on the internet and then I used my Bible program on the computer. When I began in the ministry I used to have a thick concordance open on one side of the desktop and a Bible open on the other side with my notebook in the middle. I would write my sermons in long hand, then Laura would type them for me.

   After lunch I went to the hospital to visit a member, Mr. Harry Temple, who was having gall bladder surgery the next morning. We chatted. He was sorry to be missing out on deer season this year. He had killed a deer every year for ten years.

   “I always quit hunting, hang up my rifle, whenever I kill one deer. That is all the deer meat my wife and I can use. No sense being greedy, save some deer for the other hunters. That’s my notion.”

   I had prayer with him and was going down the hall. A gaunt woman in a worn dress and torn sneakers came out of one of the rooms.

   “Preacher, come in here and pray over my boy, please.

   “My name is Doris Hammaker. This is my boy Tommy.”

   “Hi, Tommy. You must be in middle school, at least.”

   “Yes, sir. I’m in eighth grade this year. I was hoping to play on the baseball team in high school. Now, the doctor says I may have to lose part of this leg.”

   He pointed to his left leg.

   “They found a ‘reckless’ spider crushed inside his jeans leg. I had gone to that Community Clothes Closet the Baptist Church has. It is only open on Tuesdays from 2-4 p.m. I went there as soon as it opened to try to find a pair of jeans in his size. His other pair was so ragged that he was embarrassed to wear them. When he came home from school and saw them, he was so excited that he ran into his room and put them on right away. They say the 'reckless' spider must have been hiding in the leg of the jeans. They only bite when they are trapped and being crushed. Their bite is like a rattlesnake. The doctors are going to look at his leg again tomorrow and then decide whether they have to take it off.”

   Tears came to my eyes. I prayed for Tommy Hammaker,

   “Lord, I know how much my Philip liked to play baseball. I pray that Tommy will have that same opportunity. Lord, you had pity upon that woman in Cain who only had her one son. Have pity upon Mrs. Hammaker. Please spare Tommy’s leg and Tommy’s life. Add Your blessing to the medicine he is receiving. Please I beg this in the name of Your Son. Amen.”

   “Thank you, Preacher, but I’m not a Missus. Tommy’s father left me without lookin’ back.”

   “Please let me know how things turn out for Tommy.”

   All the way home I thanked the Lord for bringing me to the hospital and letting me meet the Hammakers.

   There was still time so I went to the Assisted Living Center. There were several of our members there. One of them was Ruby Garnet. She had one son who lived in Little Rock. He came to see his mother a couple times a month. I wondered how she occupied her time. Sometimes she sat in a rocker on the porch when there was pleasant weather. Sometimes she sat in a rocker in a sort of lounge for the residents. When she lived at home she crocheted and quilted in addition to all the usual chores of keeping a house. Now she didn’t crochet, quilt, or do any other craft. She was a very interesting person to talk with.

   She remembered the old days and ways that have passed from the scene. The church had a Sunday School and there was a high school girl who drove a big wagon drawn by two horses to pick up kids from the various farms. Trucks were new. There were only several in the county. This girl would pretend she was driving a truck. When they would come to a hill, she would pretend to be shifting down in the gears. Ruby’s uncle was the postmaster of a post office in his country store. She remembers that bottles of whiskey and boxes of baby chicks would be sent through the mail.

   Lonnie Farrell is probably in his nineties. When he was sixteen, both of his parents died in the flu epidemic. There were twelve children including him. The county was going to take all the children and the bank was going to take the farm. Somehow, he was able to keep the children and the farm. He had a team of horses. During the day he would haul logs for the loggers, hay for farmers, and work the crops on his own land. At night he would go up and down the county roads and the town streets picking up the bodies of flu victims. The corpses would be out by the curb or on the side of the road. He would take them to the funeral home. He also helped the funeral director bury the bodies since no one else would touch the bodies. Lonnie raised all of his brothers and sisters before he allowed himself to get married.

   Lillian Parker is a minister’s widow. When her husband died, she started a career as a school teacher. She is a very intelligent woman. She knows Latin and has read many of the Latin classics. She is also very learned in the Bible. She reads my sermons (I mail them to the shut-ins). When I visit her she has questions about the sermons that are really hard for me to answer. She loves to play Bingo on Bingo nights at the Center.

   I went home very happy that evening.

   After supper I looked for a book to read. I spied The Hobbit on the bookshelf, took it down and was soon lost in the fantasy world created by Tolkien.