A Man With the Right Stuff

   Note: This is a story that was previously published in The Baptist Standard and now rewritten for my blog. The Standard went out to thousands of Churches across the U.S. so if it seems familiar to some of you, that's why.

     A hero can best be described as an "ordinary person put into extraordinary circumstances, who rises to the occasion".  Because we spent twenty one of our forty year marriage in the U.S. Air Force, my ordinary husband was presented with some very extraordinary opportunities to be heroic.

Laura and Ted Gehrke - 1970

     We had been married less than a year and were stationed in Victoria, Texas when I realized that Ted Gehrke was made of the right stuff.  He was an Airman First Class then and we were very poor, but he was able to make up for our lack of income by securing a part time position off base. He got off work at the base then went directly to a gas station, where he worked until midnight.  Then he got up the next morning at six o'clock to repeat the cycle.
     Ted worked two, sometimes three, jobs for the first ten years of our marriage.  The  first Christmas after we married he worked seventy-two hours straight at the gas station so he could buy me a Christmas gift.  I knew right then that he was hero material.
     But these are things one might expect of a good husband and provider.  It wasn't until we were sent to Key West, Florida that an incident happened that showed his courage.  We had two small children by then, with another on the way and it had become even harder to make ends meet.  Ted soon went to work at another gas station in Key West.
     It rained every afternoon in Key West.  Sometimes the storms rolled in off the ocean with howling winds and pouring rain.  The sky would be so dark that the street lights came on in the afternoon.  On one such day while I was home with napping children and Ted was at the gas station the phone rang.  The voice on the line said, "Hello, Mrs. Gehrke?"
     I answered, "Yes." and he continued, "I'm a reporter for the Miami Herald and I wonder if I could get a statement from you regarding your husband's act of heroism?"
     I gasped, "What!  What has he done?"
     The reporter proceeded to tell me the story.  It seems a loaded gasoline truck had turned over on the rain slick street in front of the gas station where Ted worked, spilling its contents onto the highway.  The crash had taken out an electric pole and live wires were lying across the street.  The driver lay unconscious, overcome by gasoline fumes and pinned inside the cab.  Ted rushed out into the street, wading ankle deep in gasoline, pulled the man from the truck and carried him to safety.
     After the reporter finished his story I experienced a jumble of emotions...fear, anger, pride and gratitude to God for the safety He had granted.  For this act Ted was given the keys to the city of Key West from the mayor and awarded the Airman's medal, the Air Force's highest peace time award. 
     Shortly before the end of the Viet Nam War, we were sent to Spain.  During that time many of us wore bracelets for the P.O.W.'s and M.I.A.'s in Viet Nam.  The war ended while were there and it was only then that I learned that Ted had volunteered to exchange himself for a P.O.W.  I was astonished and upset when I heard it.  When I asked him why in the world he would do such a thing, his answer was,  "I've been memorizing scripture for several years now and I think I could make it through it.  Many of these guys die while they are there, not from their injuries but from giving up."  We heard from his commander that he had looked into the matter when Ted volunteered for the exchange and was told by the "higher ups" that there were high level talks going on that would end the war, so they wouldn't consider it at that time.
      But that wasn't the end of his valor.  Also while we were in Spain, he received the Air Force Commendation Medal.  His quick action in the control tower saved the life of a pilot who had crashed into a mountain.  Ted was in the tower when he heard something in the pilot's voice that "didn't sound right", so he hit the crash phone that scrambled the rescue choppers so fast that they were able to pick the injured pilot up within fifteen minutes after he crashed. This quick action saved his life. Ted had actually scrambled the choppers before the plane hit the mountain. As a side note, the night before we left Zaragosa Air Force Base to return to the states, Ted had to go to the NCO club as part of his checking out of the base. While sitting in the office, filling out paper work, a young officer walked in and looked at him.  Ted stood to greet him and the man asked, "Are you Sgt. Gehrke?" 
     "Yes," answered Ted.
     "I've come to shake your hand because you saved my life.  I was the pilot who went down in that plane last year."
     Now all of these things were heroic, but in my estimation the best years of Ted's life came when he retired from the Air Force and became a pastor of a small rural church.  For twenty-one years he faithfully ministered to people.  He taught them the Bible, counseled with them, married them, welcomed their babies into the world, watched by their sick beds and prayed for them and many times buried them or their loved ones.  This faithfulness and devotion to his calling, was to me what showed his true grit.  The bible says that men are also valiant when they are willing to simply stand by the stuff!  This hero died in 1996 of a sudden heart attack...with his running shoes on!  Had he lived, we would have been married for fifty seven years on April 7.

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Home Is Where the Heart Is

Will you come and follow me,

If I but call your name?

Will you go where you don't know,

And never be the same?

Will you let my love be shown,

Will you let my name be known?

Will you let my life be grown

In you and you in me?

(Borrowed from the Tribute to Dr. Edward Lepley)

     One of my grandsons called me before he proposed to his wife and asked me a question.  He said, "I want to propose and I think she loves me but I'm going to be going into the military and I don't know if she knows what she's in for. How can I ask her to follow me all over the world and embrace the life of a military wife?"  I told him I'd get back to him with an answer.  The following is the story I wrote for the two of them.

Ted and Laura Gehrke - April 7, 1957

     The year was 1957 as our car rolled across the panhandle of Texas, just north of Amarillo.  My eyes began to cloud up with tears.  Ted and I had been on a three week honeymoon in Ohio.  It had been an exciting, glorious time for me and I hadn't once been homesick... until now.  As strange as it seems, I apparently didn't know what I missed but now it hit me, that I was leaving my home, my parents, my friends and all that was familiar to me, to follow this man, to God only knows where for the rest of my life.  (He was in the U.S. Air Force and his feet had wings!)  As I gazed out across the barren landscape of west Texas and saw the sun sitting like an explosion on the horizon, it fairly took my breath away!

     "It's beautiful." I whispered.

     "What's beautiful?" asked my new husband.

     I looked at him like he must be an alien and said, "...this country."  Then I hoped he wouldn't ask another question, because I was choked up.

     "I guess you'd have to live here." he said sarcastically.

     That made me angry.  "Are you telling me you can't see the beauty in that?" I asked pointing out the window.

     He pulled the car off the road and stopped, then he turned and looked out at the golden, sun bathed plane, the cactus, mesquite trees, tumble weeds and brush.  "It does have a certain beauty." he admitted,..."but it would be nice to see a tree now and then, but then I guess a tree would be out of place out there, wouldn't it?"

     "Yes, It's perfect just the way it is." I replied, wiping tears.

     "Why are you crying?" he asked suddenly.

     I hoped he hadn't noticed and I didn't feel like explaining because I wasn't sure myself.  I shrugged, hoping he'd drop it, but he didn't.

     "Have I done something to upset you?" he pressed me.

     "No."

     "Then what's wrong?"

     "Nothing!"

     "People don't cry for no reason. Are you mad at me because I said the countryside wasn't beautiful?"

     "You just said it is beautiful." I replied.

     "This is a ridiculous conversation." he said.

     "Ok, so let's quit talking."

     "Fine!" he said and started the car,

     "Fine!" I repeated as he pulled back on to the highway.

     We drove in silence for several miles.  The sun was down and I had stopped crying and could now talk about it, so I tried to put my feelings into words.

     "I guess I'm a little homesick and I didn't realize it until I looked out across this land that looks like my home.  I'm not mad at you.  Sometimes beautiful things make me cry and I thought that scene, with the sun going down on the prairie, was beautiful.  It reminded me of home."

     Ted sighed and said, "I guess it's really true that "Home is where the heart is." he said.  He paused for a minute, then added, "You're not going to be here much longer.  You're an Air Force wife now and you're home will probably change every year or so.  Are you going to be able to transfer your heart to all those places?"

     I looked at him closely and saw concern clouding his face.  We had talked about this briefly before we were married... about the fact that he was making a career of the Air Force and that meant that we would have to move around a lot and maybe even go overseas.  He had wanted to make sure that I was in agreement with that kind of lifestyle.

     "Not everyone likes it." he'd said.  "Some wives are so attached to their homes that they're miserable moving all the time."

     I had assured him that I would love the travel and I welcomed the adventure of living in new, strange places.  My ambition as a young girl had been to become an airline stewardess just so I could travel.  But my reaction to coming home had spooked us both.

     I scooted across the seat and snuggled up under his arm.  "I guess you leave a little piece of your heart in every place, but you can be sure that my heart is now at home with you.  Wherever you are will be my home from now on."

     He pulled the car off the road and stopped again, but this time it was so we could share a tender, sweet kiss.  That's why our week's honeymoon had turned into three weeks... because of moments like these!

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"Ebenezer"

     "Here I raise my Ebenezer, hither by Thy help I've come..." 

(from the hymn Come Thou Fount of  Every Blessing)

     Have I told you the story of Ebenezer?  Well even if I did,  I haven't said nearly enough, so here's more of the story.
     Ebenezer was a car.  The details of his origin, I never really knew, but the part of his history with our family, I'll always remember.  Only God knows the complete extent of his exploits, so I'll begin his story where we began it in 1971.
     We were stationed at that time in Zaragosa, Spain.  There we met an elderly couple.  They were husband and wife missionaries, who were connected with Pocket Testament League.  They came and spoke at our chapel on Zaragosa Air Force Base.  Their ministry was to travel around Europe, mainly the eastern block countries and distribute bibles.  At that time these countries were occupied by the Soviet Union, so in most of them the bibles had to be smuggled in and distributed undercover.  Their stories were numerous and interesting and the car they drove to complete their mission was a 1970 blue Volvo.
     The minute Ted saw that car he fell in love with it.  He talked about it for days, telling me how it was designed to last for eleven years without any major problems, how they were some of the best cars made in the world and how their classic design would never be out of style, etc. etc.
     After speaking at our base the couple left for eastern Europe.  They returned after a year and stopped by Zaragosa to check in with the Christians there, who had been supporting them.  They told us that they were headed back to the U.S. to retire and they had to sell the car.  They were eager to settle their affairs in Europe and be on their way, so their mission board had priced the car very cheaply.  Ted wanted that car so badly but of course we could never afford a car that new and reliable, so he urged our friend and Chaplin, Bill Mosher to buy it.  After considering it for a couple days, he did.  The happy missionaries collected his money, left the car and took the train back to Madrid.
     The following year, the Moshers rotated back to the states.  They were preparing to get out of the Air Force and go to England as missionaries.
     When we returned to the U.S. in 1973 we went to visit them in Alabama.  They still had the Volvo which Bill intended to drive on deputation as he raised funds to return to the mission field.
     Ted retired from the Air Force in 1975 and we moved to Grand Rapids, Michigan to finish college and attend Seminary.  There we found the Moshers preparing to go to England.  Bill was driving every weekend to Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, New York, Pennsylvania, Georgia, Alabama and the Lord only knows where else.  The faithful little bible toting, Volvo was  taking another missionary on his rounds.
     Just before the Moshers left for England they came to Butternut to visit us.  Ted was the pastor of Butternut Bible church by then and was driving back and forth to Grand Rapids every day to finish his education.  At that time the Moshers were selling everything they owned to lighten their load for their trip.  After dinner Bill said to Ted, "I'll sell you that car for $500.00."
     "Ted said, "I'll give you $1500.00 for it."
      Bill said, "I'll take a thousand!"  So we purchased the coveted little Volvo for $1000.00.
     I asked Ted later, "Do you think that car can make a round trip to Grand Rapids every day for very long?  That's 110 miles a day."
     He looked at me and asked, "Do you know where this car has been?"
     "That's my point." I said.
     After a few months we were able to purchase a second car so the kids and I could come home after school and leave Ted with the Volvo, so he could go teach Missionary Aviation at Lowell.  This was a great thing for us but it worried Ted during the winter to have us on the road every day, so to ease his mind he bought each of us a CB radio.  He didn't want me to end up in a ditch somewhere, with no way to call for help. (That was long before cell phones.)  At that time when you operated a CB radio you had to identify yourself with a call sign.  Ted picked the signs.  His was "Ebenezer".  That's when he named the car. He said he looked at that car and thought of the places it had been on this earth to do the Lord's work, and here it was still taking him to do the Lord's work and the words from that old hymn came to his mind, "Here I raise my Ebenezer, hither by Thy help I've come...".  It was the description of the life of that old car and the life of it's driver.   What was my handle? you ask.  Well Ted assigned that too.  I was "Ebenezer Squeezer."
      Somewhere along the way the Volvo blew a gasket in its oil line,  It was always expensive to replace any parts because it was a European car, but Ted soon solved the problem without replacing the gasket.  He was given the used oil that was drained from the airplanes at Lowell  daily to recycle through the Volvo.  He brought home a fresh supply of airplane oil every night then he poured it into the car to drive back to Grand Rapids the next morning.  He told me that the car peed a stream of oil all the way from Butternut To Grand Rapids then to Lowell every day and anyone who wanted to track him down would simply have to follow the stream.  He drove it this way for several years.  After we finished college it was time for three of our four children to go, so they inherited the Volvo.
      During that time Joel and Kelly wrecked it on a ski trip and put a couple dings in it.  Then Tim wrecked it at another time.  It was beginning to look pretty beat up when Steve Crouse went out one day and painted a racing stripe from the back all the way to the front.  One of our church members informed us that he was embarrassed for his pastor to be seen in it.  That really hurt Ted's feelings because he knew the car's history and it's faithful service.  When he heard what the man had said, he replied, "Oh well..."
     One Sunday evening after we had spent the afternoon at Diann Harlow's house, Ted drove the Volvo home early and left us girls to finish our movie.  He didn't want to be late for the evening service and had preparations to finish.  The girls and I came home about an hour later with Diann.  The congregation had begun to gather in the church when we got there and Ted wasn't there!  I was immediately concerned.  I found our son and asked him to go look for his dad but before he got out the door one of our young men came running into the church and yelled, "Pastor has been in an accident up the road." Then he quickly added, "He's okay but I think the car is totaled.  Someone is bringing him home."
      Ted came in several minutes later with quite a story.  He said that he had crept home after leaving Diann's house because the snow was blowing across the road and causing white outs.  Just before he got to the church he ran into a big one, so he pulled off the road and  "Bam!" he plowed into the back end of another car parked on the side of the road.  In the next instant the snow cleared enough that he could see in his rear view mirror and what he saw caused him to cry out.  Another car was barreling down on him  Unwilling to become a "car sandwich", he pushed open the door on the passenger's side, so he could dive out into the ditch.  But when he tried to open his seat belt it refused to budge.  He struggled with it for a few seconds to no avail then laid out as flat as he could in front of the seats to brace himself for the crash.  His head stuck out the door a little and in the next nano second of time he felt something scrape it.  It was only after he sat back up and was able to free himself from the seat belt that he realized that the top of his head was bleeding.  He looked around confused, then realized that the car that had been screaming down upon him had at the last second decided to turn into the ditch rather then rear end his car.  As it swerved past on the right side, it scrapped the top of Ted's head and knocked the door off the Volvo.  If Ted had been able to make it out just a couple inches more it would have decapitated him.  Or if he had thrown himself into the ditch he would have been run over.  The neighbor who brought him home said that he found Ted running down the road with his arms in the air praising God!
     The Lord had once again used Ebenezer.  Unfortunately he (the car) had to give his life this time because the next morning we hauled him off to that "great junk yard in the sky"!
     
     
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Wuffty Von Arfty Bark (This one is for the kids!)

     When Ted and I first married and moved away with the Air Force, we both left beloved pets at home.  We missed them and wanted a dog.  One day Ted came home with a Boxer puppy that some G.I. had sold him for $50.00.  For that price I might have sent him back, but I was in love after the first lick.
     Ted named him Wuffty Von Arfty Bark.  He said the name had to be German because Boxers are German dogs, hence the Von, and it had to be classy because he had papers!  I agreed if we could call him Wuffty.
     We naively thought the fifty bucks was the last of our doggy expenses but then came puppy shots, ear clipping (in those days you never saw a boxer with droopy ears), special food because of his allergies, leashes, collars and various doggie toys to keep him from eating the house.  He was one expensive pooch!
     One would think that with his classy, German bloodline, his lofty registered name, his AKC papers and all that he cost us, that Wuffty would have been more... well, genteel, but such was not the case.  Wuffty was a world class slob!
     Not only did he have skin allergies that caused an itchy, stinky rash but he also had the sneezing, slobbering, eye watering kind of allergy.  We never found the source of this so he just suffered from it and so did we.
     Wuffty slept on his back in an old chair with his legs spread apart, without the benefit of underwear!  He snored like an old man.  He dug up rotten things, ate them, then threw up his snack on the living room rug.  Every summer he had fleas and scratched all night.  His favorite chew toy was our shoes and his favorite game was dragging our dirty laundry outside for the neighbors to see. 
     Our 1955 Plymouth had a fancy air conditioner in the front floorboard between the seats.  Wuffty would plant his hundred pound body in-between us with his head on the air vents of this air conditioner.  There he'd sleep for miles, blocking the flow of air but still managing to disperse slobber and doggie smells throughout the car.  Since Ted did most of the driving and I couldn't move him, we just endured it.
     One time when we were visiting my parents, my mother cleaned her parakeet cage.  She always let her bird, Pitter Pat, fly around the house free, while she cleaned his cage.  But this time when she went to find her bird, he was nowhere to be found.  On one of her trips through the kitchen she happened to notice Wuffty sitting in a corner with his face to the wall, like a naughty kid.  She stopped and studied him for moment then asked, "Wuffty, what's wrong with you?"  (Mother always talked to animals like she expected them to answer her.)  When he glanced back at her she saw two green feathers protruding from his mouth.  Mother gasped, then yelled, "Wuffty, drop that bird!  Drop it!"  Wuffty ducked his head then obediently opened his mouth and the bird fell out, whole and unhurt, but traumatized and wet.  Mother grabbed the bird and headed for the sink to bathe off the dog slobber.  While she bathed him, she changed his name to Jonah!
     When we lived in Arizona, Wuffty ate citrus fruit that fell from the trees in our yard.  We had a lemon tree, an orange tree and a grapefruit tree.  He sampled them all then broke out in his disgusting skin rash.  He used to sit in our front yard looking longing across the street because he wanted to run across and explore the neighborhood.  I would then have to go find him and drag him home, scolding him all the way.  So one morning he sat at the edge of the yard gazing at "freedom" with a look that said it all. I was watching him from the window.  He looked over his shoulder to see if I was watching, then made a run for it.  I hurried from the window to the front door and flung it open just in time to see him crash into the side of a pickup truck in the middle of the street.  The concerned driver had stopped and was getting out of the truck.  "I'm sorry, ma'am, I couldn't stop in time and he just ran right into my truck!"  After examining his truck to make sure it wasn't dented, I assured him the dog was all right and began dragging his addled behind back to the house.
     Now before you judge him too harshly, I need to tell you the wonderful side of Wuffty.  To begin with, he was a great guard dog.  He could be trusted to stay by the side our our new baby, Joel for hours, refusing to move until one of us called him.  He walked by our sides without a leash when we went someplace, never chasing off after something.  He warned anyone who approached us, with a low growl and bared teeth, that we belonged to him and he was our protector.  He understood English as well as I did and was one of the most obedient animals we'd ever owned.  He was our loyal, lovable, affable, slobby friend.
     On our first tour of duty to Spain, we had to leave Wuffty behind with my parents.  By then they lived on the farm in central Texas, so he had lots of running space.  A dog could live the good life there and we knew he'd be happy on the farm.  He went with Daddy to herd the cows and chase rabbits.  At times he came home smelling like a skunk, then would be banished to the back yard for the next week until the smell wore off.  Mother dutifully reported all his doggie antics in her letters to us and we could tell that they had a mutual admiration going on between them.
     He was usually a very friendly dog and would greet any visitor that came to the farm with a happy whine and gyrations of his backside and vibrations of his stubby little tail.  But he had a sixth sense about people.  He knew with a look and a scent when one wasn't to be trusted.  One evening as Daddy finished up at the barn, a pickup came into the front yard.  Mother didn't recognize the vehicle or the driver from her vantage point at the front window, but Wuffty was asleep on the porch so she just stayed inside waiting for the man to get out and approach the house.  Suddenly she saw Wuffty run to the pickup barking.  He jumped up onto the door of the truck, snarling, and barking like he wanted to eat the man up.
     Mother walked into the yard and up to the truck.  She grabbed Wuffty by the collar but he wouldn't stop.  He strained against his collar, snarling and barking and the man lowered his window a little.  He was afraid to get out and as she looked at him she didn't trust him either.  His eyes were glassy and his head bobbed as if he were about to pass out.  He looked drunk or high and Mother asked?  "Are you okay?"  The guy mumbled something and Wuffty went crazy again.  Mother could barely hear his slurred words over the barking and growling, so she said, "Mister, I don't know how much longer I'm going to be able to hold this dog off, so you'd better go on down the road."  He said something else, that she didn't understand, rolled up the window and backed out of the driveway, leaving her and her crazy dog.
     Wuffty slept in an old rocking chair in their living room.  It was the same old rocker that had rocked and squeaked and lulled me to sleep as a baby.  Like I said before, he didn't curl up to sleep like other dogs, instead he stretched his ample body across the chair from one arm to the other, lying on his back, legs spread apart, snoring like a buzz saw.  It wasn't a pretty sight.
     One morning he was taking his morning nap in the chair when the Pastor's wife and two Sunday school teachers stopped by for a visit.  Mother invited them in and they had to pass through the living room to get to the kitchen where they would be served coffee and cake.  As they walked through the room they glanced at Wuffty and began giggling.  One of the ladies pinched her nose and said, "I declare, Miz Stanely, I've never heard such noise or smelled such smells coming from an animal in my life!  How do you put up with that?"
     Mother was immediately offended.  She said, "I'm sorry.  He had leftover beans for supper last night.  We'll just go into the kitchen and let him finish his nap without us."  They left the room and Wuffty snored on, undisturbed.
     As he grew older, Wuffty began to lose some of his guard dog alertness.  Daddy decided to take him one night on his night watchman job.  He had a part time job guarding an oil well a couple nights a week to insure that the expensive equipment was safe.  There was a guard shack on the property with a couple cots inside for the nightwatchmen.  When they got to the site, Daddy laid down on one cot to read until he went to sleep and Wuffty stretched out on the other.  Daddy was depending on Wuffty to alert him if someone came onto the site.
     About 2:00 a.m. Daddy was awakened by a racket outside.  He knew someone was prowling around the well.  He whispered, as loudly as he dared and grabbed his rifle.  "Get up, Wuff!  We have company!"  He started toward the door then turned and looked at Wuffty.  The snoring hadn't stopped and the dog hadn't moved.  Daddy walked over to the cot and shook him and whispered again,  "Come on boy!  There's someone out there!"  Wuffty never opened his eyes.  Daddy kicked the leg of the cot then grabbed the dog's collar and pulled him off it. His body hit the floor with a thud and Wuffty stood up slowly, shook himself and without even looking at Daddy, hopped back up on the cot.  By the time Daddy got outside a truck was driving away.  Fortunately, the would-be thieves hadn't seen anything they wanted, so nothing was missing.  Daddy brought Wuffty home the next morning and talked for two days about what a worthless, lazy, good-for-nothing watchdog he was.  The story amused Mother and didn't seem to affect Wuffty at all.  By that time he was ten or eleven years old, about seventy something in dog years.  He was ready to retire.
     One morning just before we returned from Spain, Mother went out the back door, heading for the barn to milk.  She almost stumbled over Wuffty on the bottom step of the porch.  As she stepped over him she exclaimed, "Wuffty, you'd better move!  I almost stepped on you!"  He didn't look up, which wasn't too unusual because they had long suspected that he was losing his hearing.  But as she looked closely at him she realized that he looked stiff.  She bent to shake him and felt his cold body under her hand.  He had died in his sleep during the hot summer night... possibly of a heart attack.  He had gotten quite fat in his old age, eating my parents leftovers and not running as much as he did in his youth.  They buried him on the farm and grieved for him for weeks.  When we got home a month later they still cried when they talked about him.  Wuffty was a good friend who had blessed us for all the years of his life and I still miss him.

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All Things DO Work Together for Good!

"And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, 
to those who are the called according to His purpose." 

Romans 8:28

     When Ted was three years old and his brother, George five years old, they were put into St. Anthony's Orphanage in Toledo, Ohio. The year would have been about 1939. There are a couple of versions of this story that have floated around the family, about how they got there. One story came from Ted's mom, and the other version from the family of Andy Billis, his biological father. I'll start with his mom's version.
     She and Andy, a Toledo cab driver, had been divorced for some time and he had visitation rights. Every weekend he would come get Georgie and Teddy and take them to his aunt's home where he was living. There his aunt would care for them while he drove his cab and he could visit with them when he came home.  According to Mom, one weekend Andy came and picked them up for the weekend and when the weekend ended and he didn't bring them home, she began to look for them.  After some time she found out that they had been taken to St. Anthony's Orphanage. When she confronted Andy about it he said, "If I can't have them then neither can you!"
     She was dating Ernest Gehrke at the time and the two of them went to the orphanage to get the boys back. There they were told that they couldn't take them back until they could prove that they could afford to raise them. They were required to have a certain amount of money in a bank account before the boys would be released back into her custody. She and Ernest began to work and save their money. After three years they were able to ransom their boys from the orphanage.
     Andy's version of the story was very different. We heard it from his "other" family years later after he died.  His second wife told us that he had picked them up for their usual weekend visit and when he tried to return them Mom wasn't there to receive them, so he took them back to his aunt's home.  It was during the depression and times were hard.  Andy's aunt had several children of her own and he had to work every day. After several days, when their mother didn't come for them and he couldn't find her, the aunt took them to St. Anthony's and dropped them off. She knew they would be cared for there and that seemed to her and Andy like the best option.
    Now, no one knows for sure the truth of this story and we probably won't until we get to heaven. Ted did remember his dad bringing candy to them and visiting them on a regular basis and he also remembered his mom and his grandmother coming to see them there. When they went to court three years later, custody was awarded to his mother and stepfather because they had established a stable home and were working steadily and had a bank account.  No doubt they wanted the boys and the judge recognized this. My purposes here are not to try to cast blame or discern the truth of either story but to look at how it affected the life of Ted Gehrke.
     They were two frightened little boys left alone in a strange place with strange women who were sometimes sympathetic, sometimes sever, probably overworked and unthanked, none of them "mothers", doing the best they could for homeless, difficult, rag tagged, abandoned children. Ted was a toddler and George barely five.  They must have wondered where their mommy and daddy were and if they would ever see them again. They must have wondered what they had done and what would come next. It must have been a terrible experience because as young as he was, Ted had vivid memories of it until the day he died.
     One of his memories that he retold over and over was of the breakfasts they were given. They had oatmeal and hot chocolate every morning for three years. I'm sure the oatmeal was nourishing and filled their tummys. It had probably been donated by some generous person, but it was boring and bad!  Ted said it was lumpy and by the time they got his portion to him, it was cold.  He would gag on the lumps and was never able to finish his breakfast. The "hot" chocolate was also cold by the time it reached him and had a thick scum that had formed on the top. When they drank it, the scum would stick to their top lips and without napkins they had to wipe it off with their hands.  They did this, of course with great glee, then would fling it onto a neighbor.  He remembered, with delight, that one time George scooped the scum off with his spoon, took aim at a Nun and got her smack in the face. George later accepted his beating gladly because he was the hero of the day with the other kids. The two guys laughed together at this memory when they were old men.
     Occasionally someone came to adopt a child. To keep from being separated, the boys  made a pact that if one of them were "interviewed" by perspective parents, they would act out and be as bratty as possible, so they could remain together. It must have worked because they stayed there for three years.
     Ted remembered also how protective George was of him. He fought many battles over his little brother, both with other children and the nuns. "Little Teddy" never got spanked but "Georgie" got it almost daily. Ted was grateful to his big brother for that for the rest of his life.
     Then there was the memory of the "great escape"!   Their grandmother lived close by and George at least, thought he could find his way back to her house, if they could get over the iron fence that surrounded the orphanage.  His plan was that they would wait until night time and scale the fence, then run to Grandma's house. He would boost Teddy over the top then go over it himself. 
     It was summer time and all the children were dressed in overalls. They were the short legged kind made of duct cloth like the rail road men wore. They were very durable and could stand up to active children and frequent washings.  The boys snuck out of bed and into the playground at the back of the orphanage after they were sure that everyone else was asleep...including the sister who had tucked them in. When they reached the fence, George boosted Ted up and over the top of the fence. When Ted reached the top, one of the iron posts went through the leg of his shorts. There he was suspended between heaven and earth and couldn't get himself free. George encouraged him to pull until he ripped the leg of the shorts and thus free himself. Ted struggled for several minutes then began to panic when he couldn't pull free. He started to cry and make noise and George implored him to be quiet. Ted knew that George was angry with him so he started yelling louder. George was angry, as a matter of fact he got so angry and desperate to shut up his little brother that he began throwing rocks at him. Finally though, he had to go back to the orphanage and wake a sleeping nun to come rescue his dumb little brother. Ted said George wouldn't talk to him for a week after that.
     Sometimes events leave marks on a life that time doesn't erase. That was true for Ted and George and the orphanage. For most of their lives they were only told their mother's side of the story and they grew up hating their dad because they were sure that he abandoned them just to punish their mother. They thought that they were never loved by him so they resented him for years. They felt like they had been worthless to him.
      One night as Ted and I sat in our yard talking about his experiences for  at least the thousandth time. I suddenly realized that he still felt victimized by it. He had a tendency to revert back to the experience every time something bad happened to him in life. After listening to him for a while, I asked, "Ted, when are you going to stop blaming every thing bad in your life on your experience in the orphanage and your dad?"
     He stopped and looked at me with anger in his eyes. I waited for the explosion, but it never came. His look changed from anger to confusion to resignation and to my surprise he said, "I do that, don't I?"
     I held my breath as he continued. "Well, I'm going to fix that right now!" Then he bowed his head and began to pray. He asked God to forgive him. He expressed his faith in God's goodness and His Sovereignty in his life, then he did the most amazing thing I ever heard him do... he thanked God for the orphanage, it's care of them, the nuns and their hard work and his dad who had done what Ted now knew God allowed him to do.  I was simply amazed. The result of that prayer... he never brought it up again. Ted lived for at least another twenty three years after that and he never again mentioned the orphanage except to use it as an illustration in a sermon.
     Several years later we met up with the Billis children, Andy's second family. They all loved and respected their dad. He had died by the time we met them but they were eager to tell us how they grew up hearing about their two big brothers, George and Ted. They told us that their dad had fought to keep them but was not in a position to take them when they went to court. They told him how proud Andy was of Ted's football playing in high school and how he'd drive over on Friday nights to watch him. They told him of how Andy bragged about his boys military service in the Air Force. When Ted heard these things he began to see the utter chaos that the divorce had caused in all their lives. He saw a flawed but loving father who simply didn't know how to handle life and he truly forgave his dad.
     The experience at the orphanage built traits into Ted's life that would serve him well. First it made him a very protective person, one who was extremely alert to danger. This alertness enabled him to save the life of a pilot when he was a control tower operator in the Air Force. It made him a protective father who saved the lives of at least two of his children. He also saved the life of a truck driver who turned his truck over in Key West, Florida.  The Air Force recognized this in him and made him the safety NCO of almost every base he was sent to. The experience focused his attention on the marriages of his congregation as a pastor and caused him to hate divorce and the havoc it reaps in the lives of people, with a passion seen only in those who have suffered it. In short, it helped shape his life, both in the Air Force and in the ministry.
     So we concluded that "All things do work together for the good of those who love the Lord..." even things like cold, lumpy oatmeal and cold, scummy, hot chocolate. 

      

Another Big Fish Story

"When you make a vow to God, do not delay to pay it; For He has no pleasure in fools. Pay what you have vowed--  Better not to vow than to vow and not pay." 

Ecclesiastes 5:4-5

     When we left Spain in 1964 we were sent to Key West, Florida.  It was a beautiful, interesting place to live and although we were broke most of the time, there is so much to do and see in Key West that you don't have to have a lot of money to really enjoy the place.  There was deep sea fishing, swimming at the beach, water skiing, picnics, fish fries in the park (almost every week) for a nominal fee.  For that reason our friends and family loved to come visit us.  This was wonderful for us since we had been overseas for almost three years.  Also we had qualified for Navy housing.  Although we were in the Air Force we were stationed at Boca Chica Naval Air Station.  Our house was brand new and beautiful, probably the best place we ever lived in the Air Force.  It was a duplex separated by a large car port.  It had gorgeous terrazzo floors, tiled walls in the kitchen and bathroom, three bedrooms and a large patio that looked out on the Gulf of Mexico.  It was great for guests and we were very proud of it. Shortly after we arrived there we began begging our friends and family to "come on down". 
     The first ones to visit us was the Ezzy family.  Gregg and Suzanne Ezzy had been stationed with us in Constantina, Spain and were now in Aiken, South Carolina.  We were so excited when they said they would come and began planning a full week of fun things for us to do.  We borrowed a fourteen foot motor boat from the base so we could take them deep sea fishing.  We planned to take them on a tour of the Island, a picnic on the beach with the kids and shopping at the quaint little shops in town.
     They arrived, for some reason in the middle of the week and Gregg was eager to take the boat out.  Suzanne and I wanted to go shopping right away and the kids were clamoring for a picnic at the beach, so we were able to hold Gregg off until  the weekend.
     We started out early Friday morning, fishing gear in tow and lunch in a sack.  We had hired a baby sitter for their two little boys, and our two youngest kids, Kelly and baby Timmy.  The four of them were all under three years old and couldn't possible be kept safe on a fishing trip.  Joel, on the other hand was five and already a seasoned fisherman, so he went with us.
     Our house was built on a man-made canal that had been dredged up out of the Gulf so we launched our boat from the back of the house around 8:00 a.m. and set out into the Gulf of Mexico.  Suzanne was armed with her camera and Gregg brought along a World War II German rifle that he had purchased from an army surplus store on his way to Key West.  We assured him that he wouldn't need a gun on a fishing trip but he hadn't shot it yet and insisted on taking it along.  We were looking forward to our day's adventure and hopefully hooking a big one.  Deep sea fishing is one of the most exciting things we'd ever done.
     We had been out for about an hour just sightseeing, when some unplanned for excitement started.  It was getting on toward nine-thirty and we had already seen giant Manta Reys, several Portuguese Man-o-Wars, and a small hammerhead shark.  We had motored over beautiful coral reefs and had an argument over lunch.  Suzanne and Gregg were Catholic and Suzanne was very devout... apparently more devout than her husband because she wouldn't eat the bologna sandwiches I'd packed because it was Friday. At that time Catholics were not allowed to eat meat on Friday.  If I had been more thoughtful I would have packed some cheese or peanut butter sandwiches, or even tuna, because they were allowed to eat fish,  but it never occurred to me.  Gregg was hungry and had asked for a bologna sandwich.  "God will punish us if you eat that bologna, Gregg!" declared Suzanne.  He laughed at her but she was very serious.
     "Here, Gregg," I said, trying to be the peacemaker,  "have come potato chips."  I handed him the bag and he handed it back.  "No thanks, I really want a sandwich." he said.
     For some reason the salt air, sunshine and ocean breezes makes a person hungry.  I had experienced that myself so I'd made at least ten bologna sandwiches.  When I told them that, Gregg said, "Don't worry. I'll eat Suzanne's."  Of course that was like pouring fuel on her fire and she sat there with her arms crossed, smoldering.  About 9:45 Ted parked the boat over a coral reef so we could eat some of our lunch.  This was always a fascinating place to stop because there we could look down on the reef and watch sea creatures swimming around searching for their lunch... not to mention the beautiful colors of the reef itself.  One could look at it for hours.
     Ted had thrown a trolling line off the front of the boat when we first launched.  It was a rather large rope with a Jew fish hook on the end, baited with a large fish of some kind.  Gregg had asked him if he was fishing for a whale and he had replied, "You never know."  Jew fish are huge, spotted creatures that can weight up to a thousand pounds or more.  I don't think it occurred to any of us that if we hooked one, it could be a threat to our little vessel.  To a large Jew fish we would be shrimps!  (We don't know the guy in the picture above but this is an example of a Jew fish)
     As we sat eating our lunch and exploring the reef to see what we could see, Suzanne was in the background reminding Gregg of how they had "taken a vow" to abstain from meat on Friday and how he was breaking it and how she could exist on cookies and potato chips and she didn't understand why he couldn't.  Suddenly I had the distinct feeling that we were moving, ever so slowly, over the reef.  No one else was paying attention.
     "You're going to hell, Gregg!" said Suzanne and I interrupted her, "You guys... I think we're moving!"
     "Why do you think that?" asked Ted.
     "Because we're almost off the reef and there's a small wake being kicked up on both sides of the boat." I answered.
     Ted put his hand in the water and we could see it moving past his fingers.  "Maybe you forgot to anchor us." said Gregg.
     "No, I didn't." said Ted and showed him the anchor rope at the back of the boat.
     "Pull it up," suggested Gregg "and throw it out again."
      So he pulled it up and threw it over the side.  Now we were moving faster.  We were fairly skimming through the water.  Ted checked the trolling line and found that it was taut.  He began pulling it as hard as he could but couldn't budge it.  He called for Gregg to help and the two of them began to tug on it but to no avail.  "We need a knife!" said Gregg.  "Did anyone bring a knife?"  We all looked at each other and shrugged.
     "We've hooked something and it's not letting go." said Ted.  "We have to get this line freed.  Help me Gregg, maybe we can untie it."
     It was beginning to dawn on all of us that we were in trouble.  Our boat was a fourteen foot, aluminum motor boat and collectively we didn't weight over 600 pounds. That fish could take us all the way to Cuba or turn us over or dive and take us with it to the bottom.  We had been told not to go out very far and in fact we were still in sight of the Submarine Base at Key West.  We had been assured that we should be safe if we didn't go too far out.
     I heard Ted and Gregg discussing our situation and it really didn't comfort me much.  "What could it be?" asked Gregg.  "I don't know." said Ted.  "Maybe it's a Jew fish.  I don't think it's a shark because it's not surfacing."
     The whole time they talked and worked I kept my eyes on the wake being made in the water as our boat knifed through it.  "Ted," I said, "I think we're going faster!"
     He put his hand in the water again to feel the force and said, "We're definitely going faster."
     Suzanne began to cry and talk about how God was punishing us for Gregg's sin.  He said, "Shut up, Suzanne!  If your so concerned, pray!"
    But she wouldn't shut up. As a matter of fact, the farther we got the louder she got...
sermonizing to the top of her lungs and crying the whole time, but finally she did begin to pray.  That's when I knew that Suzanne was a real  believer.
     I quietly tried to comfort her.  "Suzanne, I don't think God would punish the rest of us for Gregg's sin, especially an  innocent child."  Joel was sitting as close to me as he could get and still maintain his five year old "big boy" status.  He was wide-eyed and silent but his bottom lip had begun to tremble a little.  He looked at her and said, "Don't cry, Suzanne."
     "Oh you poor baby!" she exclaimed and grabbed him.  She sat hugging him for the next half hour.  I think it comforted her but scared him half to death.
     I don't know how long we were pulled out into the gulf by the monster on our line, but the shore seemed to be getting farther away.  I was feeling a bit panicky too so I sidled up to Ted and whispered a question, "Do you think we could have snagged a Sub?  We're pretty close to the Sub Base."
     "Shh!" he demanded and looked at Suzanne.  Then he added, "That line was not long enough to hook a sub... and we were sitting on a reef, remember?"  That comforted me a little and I settled back to watch the two men try to cut the rope by rubbing it along the edge of the boat, however it was not even fraying.  Finally Gregg suggested that they try to slid it around to the back of the boat and hope that the motor would cut it.  I didn't know if it was my imagination, but the front of the boat seemed to be dipping lower into the water.  I think Ted thought so too because he instructed me to get in the back with Suzanne and Joel.
     I had just sat down at the back when suddenly the front went up abruptly.  Ted yelled,  "It let go!"  Gregg grabbed the line and began pulling. It was relaxed now and he pulled as fast as he could.  When he got it into the boat we all looked at the empty hook as the blood rose into our faces and we started to breath easier.  We never knew what took the bait.  We didn't see anything swim away, but whatever it was got our bait and gave us quite a scare... but not enough of a scare to send us home... yet.
     The guys were determined to catch fish so they turned to boat around and headed back closer to shore, this time without the trolling line.  As we neared the base again we began to relax and Ted cut the motor and threw out the anchor so we could fish.  Our little boat drifted around the anchor while we all fiddled with our lines and poles laughing about our "near death experience".  Even Suzanne was laughing, when suddenly we felt a bump and grabbed the sides of the boat.  Ted looked down and said, "Oh great! We're stuck on a sand bar!  Come on Gregg, we have to get out and push off this thing."
    Gregg was complaining as he threw a leg over the side, not wanting to get wet.  "Some sailor you are, Gehrke!"
     "Hey, I'm an Airman!...never pretended to be a Sailor!" said Ted with a smile.
     Suddenly Suzanne began to scream... "Sharks!  Gregg... sharks!.  We all looked at her in disgust, thinking that it was more of her histrionics, then we looked in the direction she was pointing.
     Ted grabbed Gregg's arm and yelled, "Get back in the boat.  There are sharks coming toward us!"
      Gregg threw himself back into the boat and it was a good thing he did because just as he landed in the bottom a big one swam close enough that we could have touched him.
     Now Ted and I had seen a lot of sharks in the short time we'd been in Key West, but never anything like those.  They were at least ten feet long and there were six of them.  They began circling our little vessel, staring at us with their big, black, glassy eyes.  
     "Will they attack the boat?" asked Gregg when he could finally speak.
     "I don't think so." said Ted.  "I hope they're just curious and they'll give up and swim away soon."
     Then Gregg delivered the funniest line of the day... "Well, I just hope they're better Catholics than I am and will only eat fish on Friday!"  Ted and I laughed.  I think we were all a little hysterical, but Suzanne started crying again.
      We watched in silence for a few minutes then Gregg said,  "I don't think they're losing interest but I think I know how to get rid of them."
     "How?" asked Ted sounding a little nervous.
     "I'm just going to have to shoot one of them." said Gregg as he reached for his German rifle.
     "Gregg, I don't think you should do that!" I protested.  Ted looked a little dubious but didn't say anything.  Suzanne just cried and clung to Joel.
      Gregg stood up in the middle of the boat, took careful aim at the closest shark and pulled the trigger.  We heard the bullet plop through the water and saw the fish immediately head for the deep, leaving a stream of blood in its wake.  Then the most gruesome thing happened.  I'll never forget it.  It was like something out a Steven King movie.  All the rest of the sharks in the school ran after him.  They caught up with him about an eighth of a mile from us and we watched as the water churned red, while they feasted on the body of their brother shark!
     Ted yelled at Gregg as he went over the side of the boat.  "Get our quick, and help me push the boat off this sand bar!"
     Gregg jumped out and the two of them freed us.  They climbed back in and Ted started the motor and headed for home as quickly as he could.  We'd had enough adventure for one day.  We went back to the house, cleaned up and dressed the kids then went out for a fish fry at the park, given by the local Catholic Church charity!
     We had a lot of fun reliving the day's adventure together that night but I dreamed all night long about sharks and Jew fish and my little boy alone in a boat.  The next morning I said, "Ted, I don't ever again want us to go out there with our kids in a small boat.  It's a lot more dangerous than I thought."
    He agreed.  We both knew that we had been in way over our heads and as I consider it now, it occurs to me that not withstanding the Catholic teaching of "only fish on Friday," we really did end up back home, eating fish that Friday.  Now, I'm not Catholic, but I have since come to view with a lot more respect, the act of taking a vow before the Lord.  That day, in the Gulf of Mexico, that seed of respect was planted.
             

Fellowship- Two Fellows in the Same Ship!

"...thus saith the Lord, the God of David, thy father, I have heard thy prayer, 

I have seen thy tears, behold, I will add unto thy days...

" Isaiah 38: 5b

     I have mentioned the "Fellowship" that our family was a part of in Spain, in previous blogs. For that reason, and because we don't have anything equivalent to it in the states, I decided that you, my readers need to have a further description of it. The following story will provide that for you.
      When we returned to Spain the second time, Ted was a licensed Baptist preacher. That means he was not yet ordained but had been licensed by the Southern Baptist Convention to preach.
     We arrived in February of 1965 and rented a room in a small boarding house until we could get into base housing. There were several G.I.s and their families in that same boarding house and one of them, upon hearing that we were Baptist, told us about a small group of Christians who called themselves the Baptist Fellowship. They met in the base chapel on Sunday evenings and Wednesday for prayer meeting.
     Of course we went to check it out the very first Sunday. We were thrilled to find that there were about thirty-five people (mostly Baptist) who had called a pastor and who met faithfully for worship in the chapel. "You must be my replacement." said the pastor to Ted when we were introduced after the service. We were surprised by the statement, so he explained that he only had three weeks left before he was due to rotate to the states and that the Fellowship had been praying for a couple of months for God to send them a replacement. Thus began one of the greatest adventures of our lives.
     We immediately became close to the congregation. They were young families...some of them new believers, and all very enthusiastic about serving the Lord in this place. They were hungry for the Word of God and eager to apply it to their lives, the kind of congregation that most pastors dream of.
     Judy and Jerry Harrison were GARBC Baptist from New York. They were examples of great faith in waiting upon the Lord. There were several families of Southern Baptists, the Comforts from Arkansas, the Lees from South Carolina and the Lamberts, (can't remember where they were from). There were a couple from Texas, the Reeds who were Independent Baptists and another, I can see their faces but their names have long since vacated my mind. There were several single G.I.s who were Nazarene, Mary Campbell and her children who were Assembly of God, one couple, the Boles, who were Church of God and a single nurse from Houston, Texas. Then there was Major Miller and his family from Washington state, also Southern Baptist the Busbys from Louisiana, Bob Massingale from somewhere down south, and the Frobichino's from New York City. Like I said, there were others who's faces remain in my memory but who's names escape me. I'll know them in heaven!
     Now I know that reading that last paragraph to many of you is like reading the "begats" in the Old Testament but to us who were there, they are precious names, connected to precious memories.  Just apply them to the "fellowships" in your own lives and memories and you'll understand.
     At the time Ted accepted the pastorate of this fellowship, the congregation was searching for property to buy, off base. They wanted to move off base so they could establish a church. We were unable to organize into a legitimate church while on a U.S. Air Force base. That's why we called ourselves a "Fellowship".
     They had searched for months for a place but to no avail. The search went on for a few weeks after we joined them. It seemed that every door was closed to us.
     After a while Ted began to feel that God would have us stay on base and work in the chapel, rather than leave. We were all involved in the chapel ministry in some way or another. I had taught myself to play the organ because the chapel needed an organist. Judy Harrison was the pianist. Major Miller was the Sunday School Superintendent and several others, including Ted, taught Sunday School classes and were Bible School leaders in the summer for the kids.
     Ted looked at this and his "mixed multitude" in the Fellowship and thought, "It would be insane for us to dissociate ourselves with this ministry on base, move off and go into long term debt for a property whose members came and went through a "revolving door"."  He approached the Fellowship (in one of his first tasks as a leader) and told them what he was thinking. It was hard for many of them to give up their dream of a church but most of them agreed with him. A few left the Fellowship but most stayed with us.
     After this the Fellowship flourished. We were busy and happy and in a very short time we were up to a hundred in attendance every Sunday evening. The base Chaplin, a Presbyterian, attended once or twice a month. He said he enjoyed Ted's preaching and the close fellowship of our people. Chaplin Mixon was a kind man, single, and drove a red convertible. I think he also had his eye on our single nurse from Houston.
     Within the Fellowship there were three gospel pianists, Judy Boles, Jeanie Busby and Bob Massingale. (Bob got out of the Air Force when he went back to the states and became a professional Gospel Pianist.) They were all three very talented and a delight to us all. They played for the men's quartet and and for our after service sing-alongs. We couldn't believe we had been so blessed by three such talented musicians.
     Along with these services we also had a lady's Bible Study group that met in individual homes and a board of men who made all the important administrative decisions. We were an active group.
     Ted and I learned so much from them. He learned to study and preach the Word and most valuable of all he learned to "Pastor" a flock. He was challenged by counseling to really listen to people. He learned that even though he had always been quick to form an opinion, he didn't have the answer to everything and had to dig into the Word and consult wise people for most of them. I learned to teach women and children and how to be hospitable in my home, to welcome lonely, homesick, people. It was the beginning training in the Pastorate and the most important "schooling" we ever had.
     As I said, we were all very close. We picnicked together in the mountains north of Seville. We had "singings" in the chapel, pot-luck dinners and we ate in each other's homes and encouraged each other daily. As we grew as a body, God showed Himself powerful in our lives in many ways. We experienced many answers to prayer. The following account is one of the most exciting of those answers.
     Jeanie Busby was expecting her first baby when she and her husband, Sherman, arrived in Spain. They hadn't been married long and her husband was a nominal Christian who attended the Fellowship sporadically. He was unfriendly and standoffish to most of us when he came. We tried to draw him into the group but he continued to hold us at arms length.
     Jeanie, on the other hand had jumped into the ministry with both feet. She was a sweet person and like I said a talented gospel pianist. Shortly after they arrived she began teaching piano lessons. Kelly was one of her first students.
     When she was about a month from her delivery date, we received a knock on our door late one night. None of us had phones, (except for Major Miller, because he was a squadron commander), so messages had to be delivered the old fashioned way, in person. The messenger was one of the men from the Fellowship.
     Ted opened the door and the man said, "Pastor, you need to come with me. Sherman Busby just hit a Spanish child with his car and killed her!"
      Ted dressed, grabbed his bible and accompanied him to the Busby home. There they found a distraught man, who would not be comforted. He kept repeating in his misery, "God is punishing me and He's going to take my child because of this!" Of course the whole thing had been an unavoidable accident. Even the Spanish people on the street said that the child had run out in front of Sherman's car and he couldn't avoid hitting her. He would shortly be exonerated by the Spanish and American authorities, but in his grief and confusion all he could think about was how God was going to "get him"!
     Ted began meeting regularly with him. He tried to comfort him. He assured him that God didn't work that way...that although He may use that terrible accident in Sherman's life to get his attention, He wouldn't take his child because of it. But as I said before, Sherman was inconsolable. He came very close to having a nervous breakdown but with the frequent meetings with Ted and others in the Fellowship and regular church attendance, he slowly but surely began to heal. His faith was renewed and he became a student of the Word.
     About a month later, Jeanie gave birth to a tiny little girl who they named Tammy. She was born with a hole in her heart. We received word on a Sunday morning while we were in chapel that the baby wasn't expected to live. It certainly looked like God was going to take their child. Mother, father and daughter were airlifted to the hospital at Torrejon Air Force Base in Madrid. It had the largest and best equipped U.S.Hospital in Spain. Before Sherman left he called the Chapel and talked to Ted. he asked him if the Fellowship would fast and pray for his baby until we heard from him again.
     That night our meeting was dedicated to praying for little Tammy Busby. Ted suggested that we fast along with our prayers and confess our sins as it instructs us in the book of James, so we did. On Tuesday morning, messengers were sent around to our houses to let us know that successful surgery had been performed and that Tammy was going to be alright. That was one of the scariest, faith-stretching experiences any of us had ever gone through.
    The Busbys were sent back to the states shortly after that, but not before they became two of our most dedicated members. I learned years later that Sherman went to seminary and became a Baptist preacher and is pastoring a church in Louisiana today.
     Little Tammy lived only five  years, but her parents know without a doubt that she was their "mercy child". She brought her daddy close to the Lord and taught a fellowship of believers how to pray for a miracle.