Parents, Are You An Angel? *Words From COVID 19 quarantine

 Parents, are you an angel? I was headed home from a friend's house when the crash on the big green bridge happened. The Summer was waning and I was soon to be headed to South Carolina for college and we wanted to hang out some more, but it had gotten late and it was pouring rain. The rain still couldn't dissuade my Krispy Kreme cravings for “Hot Donuts Now”as I had to drive right by the glass and brick sugar box. The big flashing sign was like an irresistible magnet for my car. The contents of the white and red KK boxes left a delicious sugar/grease film on the bottom from each donut that was lickable after the contents were gone. Inside said boxes were both high sucrose and lipid self-medication for my teenage anxieties/angst AND they also served as a peace offering for my parents as a sugar coated penance for coming home later than usual. But I digress (see June 23 post on KK). I had just gotten 2 new tires for my newly restored ‘67 convertible mustang and the wisdom at the time was to put the new tires on the front of the car. This made for disaster when the slicker rear tires hydroplaned as they hit the expansion joint of the old green steel bridge that spanned the Tennessee river, not far from the convergence of the Holston and the French Broad Rivers. The bridge had long connected Alcoa and Maryville (pronounced Mur-vul) to Knoxville. The baloney skinned rear tires no longer had traction and became like inner tubes floating up the river of water torrenting down the bridge. This sent the back of the car slowly around to overtake the front of the car in a clockwise rotation. When I realized what was happening, instead of turning into the spin like my friend, Driver Ed, had taught me, in my panic I had turned away from the spin, sending Mustang Sally into an uncontrolled vortex. The front left bumper hooked the side of the bridge sending the left side sliding down the bridge, then the rear of the car spun around just enough to make a solid impact, which catapulted it back into the middle of the bridge, coming to rest with half the pony car in the oncoming traffic lane and half in the passing lane. The left side of the car had a smashed headlight so any oncoming traffic would not be able to see it. It was very dark with no street/bridge lights anywhere. As the sound of wet skidding tires and crunching metal became silent, I peered out and saw just one beam of my right headlight shining eerily into the deluge of large reflective water droplets with pitch black beyond. Thank goodness at the time no cars were coming either direction. As it was happening, all I remember is hanging on to the steering wheel for dear life and seeing myself bounce around in the rearview mirror in this pre-seat belt era car. I was unsure what to do as I exited the car, but God had a plan… another car slowly came up to me and the driver asked if I was okay. I told him I thought so. He told me to get in his car, out of the rain, and away from danger. He said he would call the police. This was very strange to me, because very few people had what we called a “car phone,” which, at the time was a big box on the floor connected by a wire with an old fashioned, black banana shaped handset with a mouth and earpiece on the ends. So, we drove to the end of the bridge and pulled over with emergency flashers on. He then called the police on the phone tethered to the black brick on the floor. A wrecker was dispatched. I called my parents with the dreaded phone call… “Dad, I’ve been in a wreck, I’m okay, no one else is involved, but the car is not good”… I was able to tell him where I was and he and mom were there in no time. We found out that my early adopter, cell phone pioneer, mysteriously appearing, angelic rescuer, God messenger, was a pastor, whom we strangely never saw or heard of again, he apparently just happened to be in the area at that moment. Dad had the car towed to our house where it sat in the backyard, three sides smashed as a classic pony car convertible “planter, ‘ as he liked to call it. He finally sold it for scrap and parts when I left for college. I was glad to be alive, but didn’t fully understand what had just happened.

God frequently sends His messengers, sometimes called angels, to help His people. The Psalmist reminded God’s people of His extraordinary care for those who live “under the protection of the Most High.” He says, “For he will give his angels orders concerning you, to protect you in all your ways.” Psalm 91:11 (CSBBible) I don’t know if the mystery pastor who stopped to help me on the night of my crash on the big green Alcoa Highway bridge was angelic or human, but he certainly acted like one of God’s messengers that rainy, dark, and dangerous night. I do know that he saw a teenager in distress, changed his plans and joined in God’s work of providing a shaken up wet adolescent with a safe dry place to wait for help. He also used his very expensive 1981 cell phone minutes to call the police and let me connect with my parents. I’m currently studying Experiencing God again with a group of young professionals who weren’t even born when the study first came out. The Biblical principles of this study are so timeless though, it speaks to these young people just as much as it did for me 30 years ago when I first took the class. Some of the key principles are, God is always at work around you, He loves you, and personally invites you to join Him in His work. That pastor, messenger, angel joined God in His work and God used him to change a life. There are so many opportunities to join God in what He is doing right now. We can be His messenger/angel we just have to listen for His invitation to join Him. We can pray that God would show us where He's at work today.

Hang in there people! God is with us! I’m praying for us all!