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Cups of Coffee Vernon and the River Well dear friends…I last left you with a young lad who was very mixed up concerning his walk with the Lord. He felt as though he lived in two worlds. Those worlds were the church world and the school world. He was confused and not sure of where he stood with God. And in view of the beliefs of his church, he wasn't sure if because of his imperfections, he might wake up in heaven or hell if he happened to be killed crossing a street or something of that nature. My friend, Vernon, was to play a tragic role in the extraordinary spiritual experience that removed from my head any doubt about my relationship with God and Jesus Christ. I think I was twelve that summer. It was a Sunday afternoon. I was a little bored and decided to take my new bow on a little river adventure. Mother had made me a quiver out of an old rag rug. It not only had a pouch for my arrows but also a place for the bow. Mother was reading the Bible when I went to tell her where I was headed. She smiled and said, "Gene make me one promise. Don't go to Vernon's this afternoon." Well going to Vernon's was the farthest thing from my mind. I wanted to show my bow off to Joe Oden and Jack Clapper. They were sure to be envious. So I told her what I had in mind. "OK", she said, "I just have the feeling that you and Vernon should not be together this afternoon." "Don't worry Mother. We won't." And away I went. Going south, the road followed the river about a half a mile. Then the river made a big bend south-east while the road leaned a little towards the south-west, and there began a little cluster of homes called North Jonesboro. Nestled in this group of houses was Wardwell's store, a very small grocery with a small living quarters behind for Mr. and Mrs. Wardwell. About a block down the road was McKee's filling station. It sat on the south-west corner of where the old Kokomo Road T'd into the River Road. My friends, Joe and Jack, lived between the store and the station. Well wouldn't you know it, neither of those guys were home. They were cousins and had gone on some family outing. There I was with no one to show my prized possession off to… I headed back to the river and decided that I would follow it south a ways and explore some of the bank that I had never covered before. But I found nothing to interest this would be adventurer, just river bottomland for truck farming and a skiff of brush here and there. Shortly I found I was at the Gas City Bridge. Wow! Just on the other side of the bridge was Vernon's house. If I went by road I was just a mile from home. I thought about mother's request not to see Vernon, but he had never seen my bow. Surely it wouldn't hurt just to show him the bow and then go home. I crossed the bridge and knocked on the door. We went to his room. I don't remember what for; but there, two boys and a bow conjured up great adventures for the future. Everything my mother had said to me was lost in our enthusiasm. We got permission from his parents and were off to play with the bow. Two boys with adventure in their hearts needed something akin to wilderness for their play. Across the road from Vernon's house was a huge field, and then Slick's Glass Company high upon a hill above with lots of trees and brush between it and the river. Beyond that nothing but 'wilderness'… We headed out with no destination in mind. The more we walked, the more we talked, and the greater the adventure became. We lost track of time and responsibilities. I don't remember why but we decided that we needed to cross the river. The footbridge in front of my place was a long walk if you followed the east bank of the river. On the other side there were short cuts. We decided to look for a log that we could float across. That way we could tie our clothes and gear onto the top side and gradually work our way across the river without getting things too wet. There had been several rains and the river was running high. We looked but we couldn't find the kind of log we needed. We found a sand and mud bar extending into the river. I decided that I would swim from there across the river and look back up stream for a log that I could float across and into the bar. So we stripped down to our shorts and I headed out across the river. The river was probably only eighty to a hundred feet wide there, but the current was very strong. I searched for a log several yards up stream before I concluded that I was not going to find what we needed. So I yelled to Vernon that I was coming back across. About half way across I began to feel considerable fatigue. Vernon must have noticed it for he had located a long pole like stick and was extending it in my direction. I was happy to grab it and let him help me on to the bar. I was really bushed. I looked around and found a place to sit while my exhausted body tried to recover its strength. I was sitting there with my body quartered towards up stream and away from whatever Vernon was doing when I heard his cry for help. I turned and saw, to my terror, that he was flailing out in the river's current. He had apparently slipped off of the bar while wading and into the swift current. I ran to the river and swam out to him. He, of course, grabbed hold of me and we both went under. I somehow struggled out of his grasp and tried to help him swim. I thought that if he could just float or dog paddle, we could work our way to shore as the river carried us down stream. But it wasn't working out and in his fear-racked state of mind, he grabbed me again. Under we went. I thought that I would never get loose from his grasp this time, but somehow I did. We were tiring, and I could tell that his strength was almost gone. I got him onto his back, and got as strong a grip as possible onto that long hair that usually lay in deep waves upon his handsome head. I started for shore with Vernon in tow. I was so tired…so weak. The shore seemed far away and never getting closer. I tried to float and renew my strength, but we would slip under and start strangling. So coughing and sputtering I would start to swim again - side stroking with my right arm, while holding to Vernon's hair, and keeping his head above the water with my left. I felt the strength leaving my left hand. I felt the strands of hair as they began slipping from my grasp. I was more than weary…I was becoming numb. I was too tired to panic. In my desperation, I became somehow resigned to our fate. I felt the last strands of Vernon's hair slip from my grasp. I saw him quietly go under, seemingly without a struggle. Then he was gone. My arms felt like two pieces of lead. They would no longer obey me. I tried to keep afloat. My mind cried out to God, about what? I do not know. I remember being astounded at how buoyant my body was beginning to feel. It was as though something was holding me up. I was no longer struggling and strangling. I became aware that the shore was getting closer. It was as though the shore was moving towards me. Finally my knees and hands found the mud of that shore. I didn't have the strength to even crawl out. I don't know how long I might have lain there, completely exhausted in those muddy shallows, waiting for enough strength to move. I do remember that when my strength began to return the first thing I did was to beat on that muddy shore with my fists, crying out to God, "Why…Why…Why!" Eventually I got to my feet. I stared at that raging river. Vernon was gone. How could I have been so stupid? How was I going to face Vernon's folks? What could I say to them? This can not be! It can't be real, but it was. It was very real. I made my way down the scrubby shoreline to where my clothes were. I quickly washed some of the mud from my body and dressed. I tried to run but was too fatigued. My mind plowed through a million thoughts as I made my way to Vernon's house. They were on the front porch, his mother, his father, his oldest sister and her husband. I stood in the front lawn and asked Mr. Lowe to come and talk to me. I shall never, never forget the sound of Mrs. Lowe's broken heart as Mr. Lowe explained to Vernon's mother what had happened. The afternoon seemed to go on forever as the search began for Vernon. They eventually found him about a mile from where I lost him. I saw them carry him out of the boat. He was wrapped in a blanket except one leg was dangling and visible; that picture will never leave my mind. It was at the bend just north of Wardwell's market. It was there that I saw my mother for the first time since I had told her not to worry and had headed out. She had heard that Vernon was lost and no one could tell her if I had survived. Dad was out looking for me. She was calm and quietly rejoicing that I was safe, but remained sensitive to the sadness I was feeling. She had spent the whole afternoon on her knees, praying, until the phone had rung. Someone had heard of the tragedy and called to see if I was safe. She of course didn't know and set out by foot to find out. We went to church that Sunday night. It all seemed so strange. I was burdened with a very heavy heart. Vernon's family was there. All the right things were said, all the correct prayers of thanksgiving were prayed, but I felt lost and deeply responsible for Vernon's death. After the church service Vernon's mother found me. I don't know how much my countenance betrayed of my 'lostness', but she took me in her arms and thanked God that my life had been spared. She was by nature a very sweet and a very gentle woman. She was able to convey to me by words and expression that I was in no way to feel responsible. I believed her, and I was so thankful for that moment. But significant moments are only mileposts that you pass and remember. The road leads on to other paths and we continually chose. As time passed I came to several realizations. I realized that my decisions had led to the circumstance that took Vernon's life. However, I also realized that I had done everything within my power to save his life. I became a reflective and withdrawn person. I thought a lot about the strange way I was removed from the clutching currents of that river. I came to realize that the supernatural power of God had extracted me from the river. But I continued to ponder why. Why me and not Vernon? I continued to feel responsible…but it became a different kind of responsibility. It was a responsibility to the future. I had to live for Gene and Vernon. I began to spend time with Vernon's folks and family (two sisters and four brothers as I remember). Vernon was musical and sang. I never could carry a tune, but I began to try. He felt called to preach. I wasn't brave enough to say anything before a group, but I began to try. The road wasn't easy and was often confusing. But I did now know that God was real…that he had heard my mother's prayers that fateful Sunday afternoon, and had reached down with supernatural power to save my life. I knew that he was interested in me and had covered me with his grace. It is strange that although all our 'whys and wonderments' might never be answered, understanding can just seem to seep into our beings. Well, dear friends…now you know the story of this young boy who was twice saved by He who is the great I AM - once from the mucky waters of sin, and once from the swirling currents of the Mississinewa River. And of course, this was just the beginning. The saga of his stumbling teenage walk with the Lord will continue in the next issue of 'Cups of Coffee'. GS 06/01 |
Copyright ©2001 Dale Freeman. All rights reserved.