The Phone Call that Changed My Life.... Chapter 3

Making my way into the "Gathering Place" of the United Methodist Church of the Palm Beaches was a big step for me.  I had no idea that this would be the first step of many that would be life altering because of UMCPB.

I grew up in the Church, so attending services wasn't anything I was unaccustomed to.  From an early age many of my fondest memories revolved around Clayton Baptist Church.  Rev. Sam Letson was my first pastor, his son Sammy one of my best friends. 

My Church friends from Clayton Baptist Church were some that I still think of fondly today.  Fred, Michael, Patty, Kristina, Tracy, Warren, Brian, Jill and many others.  I grew up with these kids.  Together we sang in choirs, did musical productions, attended Bible School, led Youth Sunday and so much more. 

Whether they knew it or not, these people helped to shape my life.  Others shaped my life as well.  Winona Gates, a gentle woman who started out as a piano player in my Youth Choir and later became a role model and confidant. 

Mrs. Gates is the kind of woman who touches lives by example.  No great speeches, no parables, just grace and example.  When I go to God's Country I make it a point of seeing Mrs. Gates when I visit CBC. 

Standing in the receiving line at the funeral home when mama passed away was incredibly difficult.  I remember seeing Mrs. Gates face come around the corner and got a sense of peace, that is the kind of woman Winona Gates is. 

I had a Sunday School teacher named Ted Law for several of my formidable years.  Coach  Law (in addition to being a Sunday School teacher, he was also a High School Basketball Coach) already seemed old when I was a kid, it was probably his grey hair because he wasn't much older than I am now when I first began going to his Sunday School class. 

Coach Law challenged our class of boys.  He challenged us to be young men, respect others and lead by example, not falling into the wrong crowd. 

Another thing Coach Law taught was responsibility. 

Sunday School and Church were not something that was done sometimes, it was our responsibility to be in Sunday School and Church EVERY Sunday.  For some reason that responsibility made its way into my 10 year old brain and I latched onto it.

The year before my friend Brian had gotten a perfect attendance pin and I decided I wanted one too.  That bright shiny pin looked so impressive on the lapel of his jacket and caught the light just so as to glisten when he walked.

I accepted Coach Law's challenge and decided I would receive my perfect attendance pin for Sunday School.  I got my initial pin, I also got year two and year three. 

Getting to Sunday School every week wasn't always easy, but mama and daddy knew it meant a lot to me.  When we were out of town, they found a church where I could attend Sunday School.

When I was 11, I had my tonsils out, mama invited the entire Sunday School to our house for class, just so I wouldn't be counted absent.

When I was 12, a group of families went camping for the weekend.  We set up camp on the river.  The only way into the campground was with a 4-wheel drive vehicle. 

Sunday morning came and as mama and I prepared to leave for Sunday School, all of the kids in the campground decided they were going too. 

Instead of taking our Jeep, we all loaded into one of the pick-up trucks there.  There were three of us in the front seat with mama driving and 4 boys in the back of the truck. (In the 70's it wasn't that big of a deal for kids to ride in the back of a pick-up truck.)

As we made our way down the small winding dirt road around the river, the truck lost its grip on the road.  The next thing you knew we were rolling down an embankment, kids thrown out of the back of the truck and onto the ground.

The wreck looked bad and the truck was totaled, thankfully no one was seriously hurt.  Just bruises, a few cuts and some stitches.

I missed Sunday School that week, we all missed Sunday School that week.  I was heartbroken, not only were we in a wreck, but my streak was broken, there would be no perfect attendance pin.

Without my knowledge mama spoke to Coach Law and told him we were on our way to Sunday School when we had the wreck.

That year when Perfect Attendance Pins were presented they called my name.  It was explained that I did miss a Sunday, but I was on my way and sometimes God puts obstacles in front of us that prevent us from reaching our intended goal. 

On an early morning, in the backwoods of North Georgia, as a truck flipped down and embankment, God put one of those challenges in front of me, a challenge that would teach me a lesson I still carry today.  It wasn't anything earth shaking, it was a lesson of perseverance.

I could have missed more Sundays after that week, but I didn't.  I kept going and didn't miss another week.  I was awarded that perfect attendance pin and I never felt like it was a "gimme" I earned it and wore it with pride as the lights flickered off my lapel.

I learned a lot in that Church growing up.  The lessons I learned formed me in many ways into who I am today.  The cornerstones of my character were molded there in that small Church, with my friends, leaders and examples I still remember today.

As often happens, I moved away from the Church when I was in college.  I was experiencing life on my own, learning and accepting who I was and spreading my wings.

As I came to an acceptance of who I am, I wasn't so sure I was welcome in Church.  This God who I had been told loved me, allowed his more vocal  "followers" to persecute me.  Was this really the God of love for everyone or only those who fit a certain mold?

As I searched for answers through my 20's, I longed for Church, but not the narrow-minded "spokespeople" who made up the Church.  While living in Atlanta, I made friends with a couple of guys who told me about a Church they were attending.

A Methodist Church in Midtown Atlanta, not far from my house.  I attended with them and found a Church where all were welcome, all were loved and the true examples of God I longed for were found. 

In that Church I learned that the "spokespeople" who jumped in front of a television camera at every opportunity were not the Christians I would encounter.  I learned that true Christians love everyone, we love each for our struggles, our weaknesses, our defeats and our victories.

I learned these Christians were the same ones who loved me as a child, the people who shaped my life and led by example.  Through my journey, I learned that where God is truly present, there lies love and grace as well. 

I had many examples of that grace throughout my life.  On the day that I first walked into the United Methodist Church of the Palm Beaches, I wondered which Church I would find.  The Church of persecution, or the Church of love and grace.

From the moment I walked through the doors, I knew I had found the latter.  My walk with Christ has only been strengthened by the UMCPB family and through that journey I have found new leaders, people who lead by example, show love and grace.

Much like my childhood Church home, UMCPB has become my adult Church home, a journey that continues to evolve.

To Be Continued.....

The Phone Call that Changed My Life.... Chapter 2

After surgery I was extremely weak.  The last week of injury, ice and surgery had really taken its toll.  Here I was back in my parents house, on the pull-out sofa in the living room.

Pull-out sofas are not comfortable, as you probably know there always seems to be an iron bar that goes right across the small of your back.  Mama and daddy's pull-out was no different.  Day and night I stayed on the sofa, but eventually I was able to move about more and more.

I had never been on crutches and they took some getting used to.  I was anxious to get back to Florida, but also knew it would be a while before I came back.

After surgery on the 7th, I had a doctor appointment on the 21st, so my short four day vacation in God's Country had now turned into a month long Groundhog Day experience of pain, sofa bed, pain, sofa bed and on and on.

Daddy knew I was anxious to get back to Florida, but he also knew better than I did that I wasn't ready to go.  He gave me a challenge.  As soon as I could walk to the top of our driveway hill I would be ready to go back.

I was weak, but day after day I began to try to accomplish the task of going up the hill.  The first day, I barely made it out of the garage.  Each day I got stronger, eventually making it to the top of the long driveway hill within about a week. 

My strength was returning and I was getting much better on the crutches.  We had an appointment on the 21st with my doctor, so a few days before that, mama, daddy and I all felt comfortable that we could make a plane reservation for the 23rd.

The 21st came and we made it to my doctor appointment.  For the first time since my surgery the doctor removed my cast and bandages.  When everything was exposed I saw my scar, an 8 inch "L" shaped scar now adorned my beautiful foot.

After getting the cast off, my doctor found a referral for me in WPB and two days later I was on a plane headed back to Florida. 

My first big challenge on the return home was to conquer the 17 steps that led up to my 2nd story apartment.  I made it and eventually learned to drive with my left foot.  I was coming along back in Florida.

The catering job was gone because I couldn't do anything, but that was ok, my main focus now was on getting well.

Four days per week I went to physical therapy, the rest of the time I spent moving slowly and trying to get around.

I found through this experience just how nice people can be.  I had doors held for me by little old women, I learned to drive one of the motorized buggies at the grocery and often had people get items on uppper shelves that I couldn't reach.  The kindness of strangers took on a whole new meaning during this time period.

As I began to get better each day, I also became depressed.  Here I was in a town where I knew no one, I didn't have a job, I couldn't go to the beach and I had several more months on the crutches before I would be able to get around like I did before. 

I looked for a job during this time, had a few interviews, but whenever I came hobbling in it was obvious by looking at the interviewer that I wouldn't be coming back for a second interview. 

I was frustrated, I was angry, I was depressed and I was beginning to think I had made a mistake by moving to Florida. 

Through it all my family tried to keep my spirits up, but it wasn't working, I was at a very low point in my life.

One Saturday night I was on the phone with mama and daddy.  The conversation was pretty typical and then at the end of the conversation daddy said something, he said something that would change my life forever....

"you know that big Church behind the TGIF Friday's restaurant", my response was "yes."  Then daddy said.... "why don't you go to Church in the morning?"

I was non-committal but the next morning I woke up, got dressed and made my way to the United Methodist Church of the Palm Beaches.  I went in, sat down, and before I left I knew it that phone call from the night before had just changed me, changed me in a way that would soon make me realize it would all be ok!

To Be Continued....

The Phone Call That Changed My Life....

Right after the 1996 Summer Olympic Games I needed a change of pace.  Atlanta had been in the spotlight since 1990 when the Games were awarded and for those years we had all been gearing up for what was to come.

At the conclusion of the Olympics there was a tremendous let down, sadness and depression throughout the city.  There was a feeling of now what?  I had the same feeling on a more personal level. 

Working in the special events industry, the Olympics were the epitome of a career for most people, here I was at 32 thinking, ok, what now?  I needed a new adventure.

For years I had held a love affair with the beach.  Immediately after the Games I took a trip to Florida, by myself just to unwind.  What I found in Florida was the beginning of my "now what" because within weeks I was packing my bags and moving to sunny South Florida, West Palm Beach to be exact.

The beginning of this adventure was going to be huge, I was moving to a place where I knew no one.  I would either thrive or fumble on my own. 

I had gotten a piddly job working for a catering company to help me find my way.  I hated working at the catering company, but loved south Florida, I knew that once I found a job I could enjoy I would be set.

A couple of months after my arrival, mama, daddy and gramps came for a visit to see my new home.  A few months later mama and daddy came again, they could tell I was happy here and even though it was too far from God's Country for their taste they were supportive of my move.

At the end of June I had gathered up enough days to take a vacation.  I packed my bags, hopped a plane and headed home, to see my family.  The plan was to spend the Fourth of July holiday with family and then come back to WPB for work...... that was "the plan!"

It had been a while since I had been to God's Country and not long after I arrived mama told me she had one job she needed me to do while I was home.  I told her of course and she said that "one of the screens had come off the upstairs window and she needed me to put it back on."  Simple enough.

The next day, July 1st I decided it was time to re-attach the screen.  Mama and daddy didn't have a ladder and I decided I didn't need on.  Without saying anything to anyone, I went into the upstairs bathroom, opened the window and climbed out onto the roof.

I put the screen back into place and then it happened.  I felt myself slipping, when I began slipping I jumped.  When I hit the ground I landed on both feet, but immediately knew something was wrong from the pop I heard when I landed.

Intense pain surged through my body and all I could do was yell for daddy.

Mama first and then daddy made their way to the front lawn, finding me in a heap writhing in pain.  What did you do was their first question, their second question was WHY????

I let them know quickly that this wasn't the time for a long drawn out talk, we needed to get to the hospital pronto.  Daddy and I got into the car and made our way to the hospital, leaving mama at home to, well.... call everyone she knew to tell them that Ken was hurt.

By the time we made it to the emergency room, my foot was swollen and burning with pain.  I knew this was more than a sprain, this was something serious.  I had never had a broken bone, but was pretty sure I had one now.
Not long after daddy and I arrived at the hospital, Sam and mama made their way in.  After checking out my foot, the doctor told us his recommendation was for us to go to a Regional Hospital about 40 miles away as they could give me better care.

An ambulance was offered, but we decided to load me into the backseat of mama and daddy's Oldsmobile and head south.  By this time I had been given a shot for pain, so I was drifting, the backseat of the car as opposed to an ambulance was just fine with me.

We met a doctor at the Regional Hospital and he advised that I had broken my heel.  My heel???  Who breaks a heel?  Evidently I do!

Not only did I break it, the impact of me on the ground basically made my heel explode inside my body, it was in lots of pieces.

So now we know what is wrong, how do we fix it and fix it fast, I have to be back in WPB in less than a week.  As if my day wasn't already bad enough the doctor had some more news for me.

The swelling in my foot was so great that he couldn't do surgery until it had subsided, this meant I would be going home and icing my foot to get the swelling down.  Ok, ice the foot, we will see you tomorrow..... ummmm, NO..... we will see you on the 7th.  The 7th!?!?!?  That is a week away.

Yes, I would be coming back in one week for surgery.  The instructions from the doctor, keep my foot elevated and iced for a week.  Yes, iced for a week!

That is exactly what I did, for one week, day and night I kept ice on my foot.  I slept and lived on a sofa bed in the living room.  The 4th of July came and went, no fireworks for me and finally the morning of the 7th arrived.

Mama, daddy and I made our way to the hospital, surgery was scheduled for early afternoon.  I would be in the hospital for a day or so, depending on how well I did.

When we got to my assigned room, mama told the nurse that she would need a blanket as she would be staying in my room with me.  "Now mama that is silly, I am a grown man, I can stay here by myself, you go home with daddy."

My direction fell on deaf ears, mama was going to stay and I was just going to have to like it.

After surgery I woke up in the big hospital room.  I soon found out that the surgery was a success, I was now the recipient of a bone graft, 7 screws and a metal plate which made up my heel.

At some point during the night I woke up, in horrible pain.  The first face I saw was mama, she was bent over my bed, stroking my head, offering me water.... I was really glad she stayed!

The next morning the nurse came into my room bright and early, she advised me that I had to pee. 

I told her I didn't need to pee, and she advised me that my needs didn't matter, I HAD to pee. 

My bladder had not done anything since my surgery, she was getting off in an hour and she would be back in 30 minutes, if I had not pee'd she would insert a catheter and I WOULD pee.

I had never had a catheter, but I knew I didn't want one, so for the next few minutes I drank as much water as I could stand and eventually pee'd a few drops.

When she came back in she laughed and told me "I thought you would see it my way!"

In a couple of days I went home, back to the sleeper sofa.  My return to WPB had come and gone, now I was in recovery land on the sofa in my childhood living room for God only knew how long......

To Be Continued......

(Side Note, thank you all so much for the notes and gentle pushes in person you have given me to continue the Blog.  In all honesty, since mama died it has been a chore, but I am going to continue and thank you all for encouraging me to do so!)