| Let me tell you the story of
Everett Lee.* Everett Lee was a good friend
of my father. I really don't remember a time growing up in the Church
that he wasn’t around.
He was a truck driver by trade,
driving a gasoline tanker for the local chapter of one of the major oil
companies. He owned an old GMC pickup, which he kept in immaculate
condition. He had a Harley-Davidson motorcycle as well, which he also
kept in pristine condition. He lived with his mother 'til the day he
died roughly ten years ago. She has since passed away.
As I said, he was a good
friend of my Dad and a good friend of the family as well. He never
missed a Sabbath service that I know of. He seemed a decent and honest
man. I always enjoyed listening to his stories, seeing him and Dad cuttin' up. They enjoyed their visits together. We would, without fail
see him and his mother at Sabbath services there in town, and at the
Holy Days in Midland or Lubbock. Often they went to Tucson for the
feast, as did our family. We enjoyed many dinners, visits, etc. with
them.
His mother was very sweet and
kind, she always offered us cookies when we went over to their house. I
remember at least one occasion when they brought out a toy box. We
adopted her, I guess, as another grandmother. She never had a cross word
that I know of. She had her parakeet and small dog to keep her company
when her son was away on the road.
She had emphysema, even though
she never smoked. I suppose her late husband had been a smoker, and the
second-hand smoke had gotten to her. Sometimes I stop and think of some
of the old-timers that just aren't around anymore, and I sorely miss
them.
As I stated before, Everett
Lee, or Mr. ---- as we always addressed him growing up, was a truck
driver. He drove a gasoline tanker for many years. I hear tell that he
rode with a motorcycle "club" before he settled, got a haircut
and a real job. It has been known for years, that being around certain
petroleum products can be dangerous in the short and long run, due to
naturally occurring carcinogens. It comes with the territory. I believe
that was his way of thinking. And he probably knew long before anyone
else that he was sick. I can only speculate that he could have sought
treatment and walked this earth a bit longer, after all, I don't think
he was much older than my dad at the time. I guess this was a
demonstration of his faith. It also seems to me that it is also yet
another example of how flawed healing doctrines can be deadly, but…"whosoever
will save his life shall lose it" (Luke 9:24), and "he that
shall endure unto the end, the same shall be saved" (Matt 24:13). I
supposed that he endured to the end of his own life.
I am a firm believer in the
axiom that God helps those who help themselves. You can't be too
specific in prayer sometimes, and you can’t be too general. It reminds
me of the old joke about the man who was caught in the flood, and
refused a ride with the boat, the canoe, and finally, the helicopter,
but was going to wait for the Lord to save him, then gets up into
heaven, where God told him that he had sent the canoe, the boat and the
helicopter. If He had intended us to not see physicians and such, why
did He invent them in the first place? That’s like refusing to go to
the store to buy food, but instead waiting for manna to fall from
heaven.
I was in town before he died. I
saw him reduced to almost nothing. But he was a trooper, he made sure
things were taken care of and his mother provided for to the best of his
abilities. I received news that he had died. I wanted to attend the
funeral, and pay my last respects. I was in Lubbock at the time, and I
wanted a ride to Hobbs, so I called on my so-called brethren for a ride.
These were people that my family had known for many years. Same last
name, but no relation. I always thought that they were friends of the
family, to the point that I could call on them, since they were going
anyway. In the usual, kind, giving spirit that defined some of our
"brethren in Christ," he decided that it was a little too far
out of the way to give me a lift. I have yet to pay my last respects.
I won't speak ill of the
dead. It is clear that Everett's faith was strong, if misguided. I
just can't help but think what should have been.
By Aaron (child survivor of
WCG)
February 20, 2004
*Name changed
Poems/Free Verse &
Comfort in Music (comfort for the broken hearted; no audio)
Books: Spiritual Comfort
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