THE DAY FROM HELL? Today marks the 26th anniversary of my lovely wifes having been run over by a log truck. It was a Monday and a holiday, Columbus Day. Sandy had traveled with a friend over to DeRidder, and as they came back through the back roads, they came to the Calcasieu River Bridge near Hineston. It was the old bridge, with two, narrow lanes and guard rails on either side. As they approached the bridge from the west, an empty log truck entered from the east. Then its rear tandem axle broke loose and came straight for them. There was nowhere to go, and the eight wheels rode right over the top of their small Toyota pickup truck. The other woman received a neck injury, but it appeared that Sandy had been killed. The following Sunday the other woman was annointed with oil and prayed for by our elders: her neck was healed as she got into the car with her husband a couple of minutes later. Sandy, on the other hand, went into a coma, and she had multiple fractures in her pelvis and a nerve severed in her brain. It was another terrible fall event: In the fall of 1985, my only sibling dropped dead of a heart attack. In the fall of 1986, our congregation split. In the fall of 1987, my father died and my mother moved into our home. And now this. But this wasnt the last thing: early in 1989, I told my elders that I was willing to request that presbytery remove me as the pastor of our congregation because I was convicted that I no longer met the criteria for being an officer in the church: my family was out of control, and I asked them what they wanted me to do. Looking back on that terrible day, it seemed like the Day from Hell. Merrill had gotten a disturbing telephone call about a bad wreck that Sandy was in, but the person did not give him more information. I came and sat in his office, having called our local hospitals but being told that they knew nothing about this. I am not sure how much time passed in Merrills office before we finally got the call that Sandy was being flown to Cabrini. Lydia was a senior at Alexandria Senior High, Andrew was four years old, three children were in between, and my mother was in the grips of senile dementia -- I was overwhelmed. The wreck was on KALB-TVs 10:00 p.m. news that night, and a friend recorded it (). When Sandy came out of that coma near the end of the week, she came back a profoundly changed woman -- and she had no pain from the wreck -- discomfort, yes, pain, no. Before that wreck, she was easily frightened; after that wreck, she became fearless. And she came back a woman on a mission, with a sense that time was short and much was left undone. Our marriage was changed, too. With months of recovery -- our family ate Thanksgiving dinner in the hospital -- Sandy and I grew increasingly distant. Before dawn, I knelt down in our den all alone and cried out to God and asked him for help. It was a cold January morning, and I was in despair that we would ever know romantic love again. We were friends living under the same roof but with a great gulf fixed. Mere friendship doesnt cut it when it comes to managing a home and raising children. God answered my prayer that cold, dark January morning: he put the thought into my mind, Go hold her hand and pray outloud with her and keep doing this. I did just that. I made a cup of coffee and took it to her and brought one for myself. I climbed into bed and sat next to her. As she sipped her coffee, I took her by the hand and began to pray outloud. She prayed, too. And something happened: our coldness began to melt and the distance began to end -- not all at once, but in the weeks and months that followed. Oh, we had prayed before, of course. I had my private prayer life, and she had hers. We prayed with our children and had family worship, too. But she and I did not pray together privately except for serious emergencies. That morning we set about to pray together daily, and that changed our marriage. Within a very short time, the romantic love we had once known returned, better than before, and God gave us a marriage that we could not have imagined before that wreck. That Day from Hell was ultimately the Day from Heaven. Bad things do happen. I have no guarantee that bad things wont happen to me or those whom I love today. But I do have a promise that no matter what happens, God will turn it into a blessing: And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose. For whom he did foreknow, he also did predestinate to be conformed to the image of his Son, that he might be the firstborn among many brethren (Romans 8:28-29). Bob/Robert Benn Vincent, Sr.
Posted on: Fri, 10 Oct 2014 13:32:24 +0000