Because of the circumstances, Ethel planned to just make a round trip, accompanying her friend to her destination, then immediately returning home.   

She traveled light, with only a large tote bag for the few necessities she would need on the bus. It was summertime. Good weather. The trip south went well and both enjoyed the scenery and the peaceful journey. In Tennessee they had to switch buses--not simply a bus switch, but a bus lines switch, which required them to walk just a city block from one bus station to the other.

After seeing her friend to her awaiting son, Ethel boarded the next bus north. She looked forward to another pleasant trip enjoying the passing countryside. Only the one bus switch was on the itinerary. She was able to take a good restful nap and entertain a few small children so their mother could do the same. 

But as the bus drew closer to Tennessee, the sky began to darken. Storm clouds were brewing. Dark storm clouds. She began to fret a little about the timing of the storm because she was not prepared with umbrella nor raincoat. She made a very specific prayer request, asking the Lord to please hold off the storm until after she had transferred to the next bus and was headed home. 

The bus pulled into the station as the wind kicked up and the clouds broke loose. It was a torrential downpour complete with lighting and loud thunder. Ethel was wearing summer-weather clothes and sandals. With no umbrella, she had only a light-weight sweater and one of those thin, folded plastic bonnets that women keep in their purses with which to cover their hair if caught in the rain. 

She had one hour until she needed to be on the next bus at the other bus station a block away. So she waited by the door, hoping for a break in the rain. But this was a real cloud-burst--it poured incessantly. Water was several inches deep in the street and the storm drains couldn't keep up. The rain was relentless.   

Finally there was no time left and she knew she would have to make a dash for it. So she donned her little folded plastic hair cover, buttoned up her thin sweater, pulled her tote bag close and dashed out the door. She no sooner started to run when she saw another lady, also without an umbrella, attempting to do the same. Ethel had noticed her in the bus station, alone. Now here she was trying to make the same sprint to the other bus station, carrying too many bags for one person.

Ethel immediately went to her aid, taking two of the larger bags from her. Together they hopped, skipped and jumped over and around the puddles, in a futile attempt to keep dry their shoes and feet. When at last they entered the next bus terminal, they pushed through the doors and found an unoccupied bench. As Ethel (then in her late 50's) leaned over to set down the bags, it was only then she noticed that they were grocery sacks--the plain brown paper kind. And they were each filled to the top with canned food!

For just a moment she wondered how much those bags must have weighed and how she could have run a full city block carrying two of them without noticing, and why the rain hadn't completely destroyed those plain brown paper bags. But there was no time to ponder as she had only a few minutes left before boarding her bus and her mind was racing to figure out how or if she could dry off a little first. She rushed into the restroom, untied and removed the little thin plastic hair cover. As she pulled the ends to snap it shut, water sprayed everywhere. She dropped it on the counter and took off the sweater she was wearing, she was thinking the only thing to do was to try to wring it out. But when she got it off, it was dry, bone dry, She felt her slacks. They were completely dry. She kicked off her sandals. They were perfectly dry. Her feet were dry. She was completely dry!

The bus was pulling into the station in Cincinnati by the time Ethel started to grasp what had happened to her on that dark stormy sprint in Tennessee. She had somehow -- supernaturally -- been strengthened, protected, covered and kept completely dry, as she cast aside her own need to care for the need of another. She had asked the Lord to hold off the  storm, but instead He kept her while she was IN the storm. 

This story is not fiction, but true. You see, Ethel is my mother.  I am telling her story because a few days before Christmas 1999, she had a debilitating stroke and was no longer able to speak or otherwise communicate. I know that the God and Father of our Lord Jesus the Christ gave my mother a very special blessing that night in Tennessee, a memory to hold on to, to always remind her that He IS and that He cares and that He is able to do exceedingly abundantly above anything we could ask or think when we willingly lay down our lives and trust Him. 

My Mom went to be with the Lord Sunday, September 2, 2001 at 8:45 p.m. 
See her memorial site.

  

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