THE FIFTH KEY

I ran my fingers over the keys. So many big memories attached to such small and now useless items. Each key opened a gateway of experiences and brought me reminders of the past. The fifth key was no different. I put my elbows on the table and held the key between the palms of my hands, in a prayerful repose. As if a sorcerer had cast a spell and sent me back in time, I stood before the double glass doors. Not of a home, nor a church. This time I was doing something I had never done before. In my mind I can walk through those doors, veer left and go through another glass door. A receptionist desk was in front of me. Offices to the left and right. My office was straight ahead. Well, it was my office for a period of time before someone used their political leverage and sent me to a smaller office down the hall. I forgive him. Mostly. For almost two years I would serve this small Bible College as an Admissions Counselor. I would ride the roads of Mississippi and Arkansas looking for students for the college. I would call prospective students, write to them, beg them, plead with them, and then hope that they would show up on registration day. Like all small independent colleges, we did not have a line of candidates waiting to get in ... we had to work to get the students to commit. I do not consider these to be remarkable years for my career, but maybe we made a difference in someone's life. Although, something remarkable did happen during my time there: the birth of my son. Two years into our marriage we were blessed with a baby boy. In the eighth month of the pregnancy I went to Tulsa for the Oklahoma Youth Forum. I took one of our students with me, and set up a booth. On the way home, we passed through the student's home town, and I dropped him off at his place. This was not the plan. I was supposed to bring him back to the dorm, but he wanted to go home and that's what I did. When I arrived home, the house was empty. That was strange. I then drove out to the hospital, thinking that perhaps something had gone wrong. Here's how that conversation went at the small town hospital emergency room: Me: I can't find my wife, she's pregnant, and I wonder if a pregnant woman has been in here tonight. Bubba looking at co-worker: Well, I thank so... yeah... seems like there wuz. Me: Do you know if she's all right? Bubba: I ain't sure. Me (getting frantic): Well, is she here? Bubba: Let me check. (bumbles over to a book, takes his time looking). Naw ... we sent her on to Jackson. Me: Jackson? Where in Jackson? Bubba: Let me look. (bumbles over to the book again ... I'm ready to jump him by now!) We sent her to Woman's Hospital in Jackson. Me: Where is that? Bubba: I ain't sure ... I thank it's over on such and such road ... (looking at co-worker) you thank that's rite? I jumped into the car and made the quickest trip ever down the Natchez Trace (a federal highway with a 50 mph speed limit) and got to Jackson. I went to the hospital. It was late night now and there were no open doors...I kept trying them...going around the building ... then I saw the sign. I was at the wrong hospital. Women's hospital was a few blocks down. I drove around the building until I saw a door with a light. I looked in the door...no one... door locked...but down at the far end I saw my friend Otis. He came and let me in ... the baby ... my baby ... had been born just a few minutes before. I went in to see Margaret. She cried a bit and said we had not decided on a name. That was the least of our worries. Margaret's blood pressure went sky high and didn't come down for several days. She spent a week in the hospital. Little John Robert was a month premature. He spent two weeks in ICU. His lungs had not quite developed (boy is he over that now!). When it was time for Margaret to be discharged, it was a hard thing to do to drive to our home an hour away and leave John Robert in the hospital. He didn't even know us yet. But it was essential to Margaret's health. We went every day to see him until the day we could bring him home. When we checked out of the hospital, the woman at the desk wanted to know if we would pay the $30,000 in cash or check. I told her we could write a check, but I would worry trying to cash it. I don't think that even counted John Robert's bill. Anyhoo, thank God we were insured working for that little college. Maybe that's why God had us there at all. We found out later that our friends were waiting at the dorm to tell us what had happened - but since I dropped off the student at his home, I never went by the dorm. The sign on the church said "Welcome Home John & Margaret & John Robert". Now we had a family of four. Before long, there was a feeling we should be closer to Margaret's home. Our old job opened back up and we took the opportunity to go back. My prematurely born son would fit on my arm, his head in my palm, feet barely to my elbow. Now my 15 year old son stands eye to eye with his dad. There are only a few years left at home. The course of his character has already been set. We met a lot of great people at that little college, and had opportunity to make some wonderful friends in those two years. But nothing changed my life more during that time than the addition of John Robert to the family. Though I only used that key for a short time, I believe it was providential that we were there, insured, surrounded by friends, and close to Jackson. The key slipped from between my hands and landed on the table. I slid it over by the other keys and picked up another one, mindful that each part of my life was beginning to have a strange consistency ... that God had been watching over me all the time.