Our Friendship That Never Was

Dean Rockwell worked in the graphics/printing department at Morris College where I also teach. When I first met Dean, I thought he was a curmudgeon who was bitter about his job and his home life. He scoffed at the first print job I gave him. However, over time I realized that he was far from cantankerous. He liked motorcycles and had pictures of them that he drew on the walls of his office He also displayed scupltures of spaceships from the Star Wars movies.

As we grew to know one another, I found out that he had a passion for rescuing stray pets and keeping them in his own home. By his last count, he had some 30-40 pets living with he and his wife. Almost everytime I visited Graphics, he had another story about the latest pet to join his menagerie.

One day our conversations turned to golf. We were both just getting back into the game and discussed clubs, local greens, and exaggerated golf scores we'd shot. We all but made plans to play together. For some reason, we never did.

One evening my fiancee and I saw Dean and his wife at a restaurant where one of my colleagues played music and sang. He was supportive of that colleague and of me. He made accomodations for my print jobs when I brought them to him at the last minute. I know he probably didn't want to do it, but he did just the same.

The last time I saw Dean he looked very sick and was suffering from an illness that I didn't even know he had. His wife held his hand that day as I helped him into his pick-up truck. I told him I'd pray for he and his family. The following week someone in our building told me Dean had passed away.

I yelled, "No!" out loud and held my head in my hands. I was upset because I didn't get to golf with him. We didn't get to enjoy any conversations together outside of work. I found out from Dean's co-worker in Graphics that he enjoyed hearing about the Bible and that her cousin would pray with him at work from time to time. Regretfully, our conversations never turned to God.

Now Dean is at rest, but my soul is vexed. In all my encounters with Dean, I had forgotten that God sends people into our lives as "salt" and "light" to them. More importantly, God sends us has "salt" and "light" to other people! We are in the lives of others to show them a more excellent way that leads to Christ, or that is why people who annoy us with their Bible-thumping and Scripture-quoting are sent into our lives. If the words are not placed in our mouths to offer people, the least we can do is to exhibit a life that is pleasing to God before them.

I'm thankful that I knew Dean. Ours could have been a blessed friendship had I truly gotten to know him more. It was a missed opportunity for both of us: a friendship that never was.

A Holiday Tale

On the Sunday night before Christmas and all through the long highway from my hometown Bamberg, SC, to my home in Columbia, SC, not a creature was stirring, not even my black SUV that had suffered many repairs in 2012 already. As I drove down the lonely highway, the headlights suddenly grew dim along with the interior lights. I attempted to adjust the lights while the car began to slow down involuntarily. Entering Orangeburg, SC, I pulled into a nearby parking lot and turned off the engine, but it would not restart. Thinking it was the battery, I called my stepfather to help me give the battery a boost.

After a few moments and against his judgment that it may be the alternator, I got back on the road to make the near one hour trip I had left to make it home. I felt confident that the battery would hold. When I had reached I-77, the car began to stall again--in the middle of nowhere! However, as it turned two hours to midnight, I made up my mind that I would not be stranded in the middle of nowhere.

Sheer determination powered the vehicle back into the Columbia town limits. As I extended my gratitude toward the heavens, the hapless car began stalling again, but this time no prayer could save her. The lights dimmed, and the engine slowed down. The car stopped on the shoulder of a bridge headed north on the interstate.  The temperature was 35 degrees. It was one hour until midnight, and this time there was no one to call because my cell had died.

If anyone is looking for a happy ending here, then they won't find it here. Over two bridges and with a herd of oncoming traffic behind me, I walked two miles to the nearest exit. I didn't expect anyone to stop and offer me assistance at that hour. My emergency lights could not come on, and days after the Newtown tragedy, everyone's conscience was surely on high alert, especially during the holiday season. After I charged my phone at a nearby convenience store, I called my wife to give me a ride home.

Thinking back to the long walk on the interstate, I was not angry. Incredibly, I have suffered worse things in my life. Many thoughts carried me along during the endless trek. I'm grateful to still be alive and not have suffered a worse fate. At any point during that ordeal, I could have been taken out of this world, yet I remain here today for an awesome, unbelievable purpose. The "fun" in the situation is understanding why did it happen--not just logistically but spiritually. I do not believe in fate; I believe in destiny and purpose through God.

Somewhere and someday that experience will be used to help both myself and someone else. Stay tuned for that update (it may even be in years to come...)