No Mountain Too High

INTRODUCTION

"For who knows what is good for a man during his lifetime, during the few years of his futile life? He will spend them like a shadow. For who can tell a man what will be after him under the sun?" Ecclesiastes 5:12

A gentle rain fell upon the front range of the Rocky Mountains as my daughter Kim and I left the grocery store.We had shared an evening of giggles and shopping.It was time to go home and cook dinner.I smiled at her as I sat down in the driver’s seat.Her naturally curly hair lay in damp ringlets around her face.I love you so much and am so proud of you, I silently vowed.She grinned at me as though reading my thoughts.I put the key into the ignition and started the motor.We slowly drove toward the parking lot exit.Little did I know that this was to be a moment more precious than all worldly wealth; for within mere seconds, our lives were shattered by a stolen car.

I recall running down the highway.Blood soaked and drenched from the falling rain, I screamed for someone to help Kim.

I did not feel alone.Someone was with me.

A patrolman grabbed me.After wrapping his coat around me, he placed me in his patrol car.I lost consciousness.

I am not sure we can save this one either.

The voice drifted in and out as I was placed on a gurney and put in the ambulance.A void again descended upon my being.

But I knew that I was not alone.Someone was with me.

A siren seemed to be screaming at me.I turned my head.A man was looking at me.A large cut was evident across his cheek and jaw.

My God, man, did I hit you? I asked.

Tears flowed down his face as he covered his eyes with his hands.Once again, darkness fell upon me.

But I knew that I was not alone.Someone was with me.

I slowly opened my eyes.The table beneath me felt cold and hard.Bright lights overhead forced me to once again close them.

The unknown presence seemed to be comforting.

Someone was scrubbing the right side of my face and head.It felt a bit rough and determined.

Suddenly I realized that I had been in a car accident.And I had not been alone.My thirteen-year-old daughter, my only child, had been with me.A veil of shock and terror descended upon my body, mind, and soul.My eyes flew open.

Kimmie? I whispered.

The doctor continued scrubbing my face as though he had not heard me.

Kim? I asked in a stronger voice.Is Kimmie okay?

Once again, he did not acknowledge my question.I tried to sit up, but the effort was too great.The doctor continued to scrub at the glass embedded in my face.

Kim! I said loudly.Kimmie was with me.Is she okay?

I strained to see the doctor’s face.He did not look into my eyes.

She is dead.

In that precise moment, I saw my child for the last time.She was no longer in her school shirt, blue jeans, and boots.She was in a long, white gown, barefoot, and rising above me.Her light brown hair glistened like a golden halo as she rose above the emergency room.My precious daughter did not look back.Her face was turned heavenward, and she did not look down.

I felt a deep sense of loss.And I felt alone.

Was this a moment of madness?Was I creating a vision to enable my survival?Only our Heavenly Father knows for sure.But my heart and soul tells me that I experienced a miracle.This vision of serendipity has added untold strength to my faith, sanity, and well being.And thus, I indeed witnessed a true and blessed miracle.

The head injuries left me with a memory similar to a jigsaw puzzle . . . within a box.Some pieces remained intact, while others continue to be found amid conversations with friends and family to this day.Indeed, God was good to me.Recall occurs only as my heart, mind, and soul can handle it.A portion of the accident remains in the box.Doctors refer to this absence of memory as traumatic amnesia.I call this void of inner vision yet another precious gift from God.

Thus, with a large portion of the puzzle in place, we will begin my journey through the valleys of miracles, reaching the summit of the mountains of faith.

ONE

"From my distress I called upon the Lord, The Lord answered me and set me in a large place. The Lord is for me, I will not fear; What can man do to me? Psalm 118:5-6

Throughout childhood, my life was filled with a wonderful solidarity in heritage.I loved horses, cattle, and living in the country.This was inherent with Dad.I also loved sunsets, sunrises, and the glorious beauty within nature.This was inherited from Mom.My brother loved music.And he instilled this within me.The youthful concept of life in general could be summed up in one word.Bulletproof. I knew in my heart that God was everywhere, but I didn’t need to bother Him with my petty problems.I could handle this thing called ‘life’ all by myself!

Junior High and High School were years of fun, friends, and average grades.As I graduated from eighth grade, my brother Bill graduated from high school, joining the Navy shortly thereafter.And within the realm of extracurricular activities, my horizons broadened into a wonderful and adventurous life.At home, I was most content on the back of my horse Duke and much to my mother’s dismay, helping Dad with the cattle was indeed my first priority.

When the season required farming, Duke and I spent many a day exploring the countryside near the little town of Brandon, Colorado.That old palomino pal of mine patiently listened to daydreams and childhood problems alike; and I took comfort in knowing that my horse friend would never deceive me by repeating a word of them!

We competed in rodeos and although we were determined participants in barrel racing, pole bending, ribbon roping, goat tying, and horse racing, we truly excelled in absorbing the fun of the sport.As Kiowa County Rodeo Queen, Duke and I were to lead the parade and of course Duke chose that morning to spill his sack of grain onto the ground.Knowing the value of the horse feed, the parade waited as I gathered up the precious commodity.

It seems in young years, obstacles were easily leaped over, crawled under, or scooted out of the way.

Our school in Sheridan Lake, Colorado, seemed more of an extension of my family than a typical school. Students from grades one through twelve walked the halls in harmony. The teaching staff offered education, moral standards, and a sense of belonging and well being.Ballgames, 4-H, cheerleading, a reign as Homecoming Queen Proms, and daily school functions were fun and free spirited.Martin, a dedicated student and outstanding athlete, was my best friend and the first love of my life.In his junior and my sophomore year of high school, we glided into a ‘going steady’ status.Life was good and just getting better and better!

At age sixteen, I obtained the teenager’s most prized possession; a driver’s license.This granted me the opportunity to be employed through the summer months at a ‘real’ job with ‘real’ wages.Until this point I had baby sat, worked cattle, and trained horses for spending money.Now the door of opportunity flew wide open.I was soon hired as a waitress in a small diner in Sheridan Lake.It seemed that life could not get any better than being grownup and filled with superlative wisdom.

"Make your ear attentive to wisdom, Incline your heart to understanding" Proverbs 2:2

Sheridan Lake was located seven miles from our home in Brandon.For a short time, I made this journey to work and back without incident.However, I cannot say the same for my ability as a waitress.After spilling an armload of dishes on the floor one evening, I learned that the business world could be cold and harsh.With a slight trembling of my lips I handed the majority of my weekly wage to my boss for replacement cost.A cold wind of reality blew over a fledgling waitress!

Nearly two weeks later, darkness descended over the plains of southeastern Colorado as I drove toward home from the diner.Halfway to Brandon I pulled over to the side of the highway.I watched a car rapidly approaching from behind.My foot rested on the brake pedal.The lights in the rear view mirror were getting closer and closer, and the vehicle did not seem to be slowing down nor changing lanes.But I felt safe because of my position on the shoulder of the highway.But the oncoming car did not move to the left nor did it slow down.The patrolman later reported that I was hit from behind by a car traveling at seventy miles per hour.The driver and passenger were both intoxicated.

The muscles and ligaments in my neck were severely damaged.The doctor told Mom and Dad that a bump in the road could easily have broken my neck on the way to the hospital.I considered this ‘luck’.

Later we learned that the chrome on the side of the car had slid forward, securely locking the door on the driver’s side.If this phenomenon had not occurred, the driver’s door would have been torn off completely.Was my life spared due to a piece of chrome?Or did divine intervention save me from probable death?Now I know in my heart and soul that God’s Hand protected me. However, in my youthful frame of mind, I considered it luck and anxiously awaited my next venture.Hmmm, I silently noted.Perhaps this ‘life’ thing is a bit tougher than I first thought!

Following Martin’s graduation from high school, we announced our plans for marriage.I entered into my senior year as he enrolled in college in Oklahoma.It soon became evident that my secure and happy lifestyle had changed dramatically.My best friend was no longer by my side for quiet walks, school functions, or extracurricular activities. At mid-term, Martin dropped from college and enlisted in the Navy. It came to pass that I asked Martin’s younger brother, Billy, to accompany me to the Senior Prom.He graciously accepted, and although several years older and much taller. I proudly attended my last prom with my young, handsome escort.

Several months later, on graduation night as classmates cheered, I wept.Indeed, my ‘quiet voice’ was telling me that I was not prepared for the world outside of my secure realm.Fear of the unknown descended upon me like a cold, dark cloud.

In late summer, restlessness within me became unbearable.I was lonesome and quite sure that any chance for happiness was dimming with each passing day.Friends were having fun, and I was miserable.I wrote Martin, asking to put our engagement on hold for a time.No problem.Martin would understand.After all, he was probably feeling the same way!

Wrong!

And thus it came to pass that two who had not been challenged by conflict never spoke to one another again.Although we went our separate ways, the memories from our youthful and carefree days remain nestled within a quiet place in my heart.

Ready or not, Life, here I come! I accepted one of several offered scholarships to Hollywood Cosmetology College in Denver, Colorado.Classmate Cathy had her mind, heart, and soul on one specific goal.She wanted a career in Cosmetology. Indeed, she would be a wonderful influence on this disoriented country gal. As she bravely stepped onto her pathway to success, I trailed along behind.Her footsteps were straight and sure, while I stumbled along behind, staring at the tall buildings and bustling city.Little did I know that this venture was also a challenging lesson in the world of high finance.We were staying in the YWCA, and therefore, a roof over our heads was of no concern to us.As with her goal, Cathy carefully planned her expenses and available funds.But did I follow her stable and levelheaded lead?Of course not; ‘life’ was meant to be fun, and I intended to live it to the max!Since my allowance arrived every two weeks, every two weeks, I treated Cathy and myself to expensive dinners, fun excursions, or the purchase of some unnecessary item.If my ‘quiet voice’ mentioned the possibility of future starvation, I ignored it.Hmmm, as I look back perhaps this is the reason that another student brought us sandwiches from her home. We may have looked a bit emaciated in the latter part of each second week.

During early training, Cathy was an instant natural in the world of hairdressing.The same was not true for me.I had the uncanny ability to transform a simple shampoo into a classic firefighting technique.I did however excel in mopping water from faces and uniforms with dexterity and diligence.

Several telephone calls to Mom begging for a reprieve accomplished nothing.

You are doing fine, she said."Just stay with it a while