Sometimes, God has a surprising way of answering prayers.

And it’s really cool when he sends a WWII hero as His instrument.

Back in early May, I had been praying a particular prayer that I could have answered all by myself. A living version of the prodigal son, I was fully aware that I needed to get my children and myself back into church.

I literally asked God to help me overcome my excuses and get me back into a pew. As pitiful and lazy as this prayer was, I’m ashamed to admit that it is where this story started.

In the past decade or so, my kids and I have attended many fine churches, such as Zoar Baptist in Coal Grove, Sharon Baptist in Ironton, and Russell First Baptist.

Gradually, however, thanks to my apathy, we always ended up missing a week or two here and there and eventually dropping out altogether.

All of my kids would periodically ask me when we were going back to church. But the strongest pleas came from my 12-year-old daughter, Holly. She had begun attending on her own with her friends and wanted me to join her.

So, unbeknownst to me at the time, a phone call I received from a former POW/MIA a few weeks prior to Memorial Day was the beginning of my answered prayer.

I had never before spoken to Bill Washburn, nor did I know who he was.

He called me to answer a plea I had written in the Tribune asking people to provide me with interesting stories about local folks doing extraordinary things.

Interesting and extraordinary was suddenly taken to a new level.

That phone call put me in total awe! I was on the phone with a war hero, a man who had not only fought in WWII, but had been captured behind enemy lines and lived to tell about it.

And he was calling me!

A few days later, I was in his living room on Buckhorn Street listening to stories in person that I’d never heard told on The History Channel.

An unlikely friendship began between this man twice my age and me.

Throughout this past summer, Bill called me regularly to tell me more stories and alert me to his suddenly busy schedule of being honored for his service and sacrifice.

About a month ago, he called to tell me he was being honored at Central Christian Church, the church I attended as a youth, in a special Veterans Day ceremony on Nov 13th.

After gathering information about the ceremony from Ginger Browning, a friend since childhood and lifelong CCC member, I decided to attend the church the Sunday prior to the ceremony with Holly and my son, Andy, in tow.

I met people who remembered me from my pre-teen years and noticed Mike and Carolyn Fannin, parents of one of my best childhood friends, Ricky Fannin, sitting in the exact same spot they occupied more than thirty years ago.

For reasons other than the obvious familiarity, I felt at home.

The following week, Holly tagged along with me again as I attended to write a story about the church honoring Bill Washburn.

Once we entered the sanctuary, we were greeted by the kindness of Jerry Hankins, to whom Holly asked the question that had been burning on her heart: “Can I get baptized today?”

Following a talk with interim pastor Jim Williams, Holly found her way to where I sat and nervously waited out the ceremony.

And then, the moment arrived.

Tears of pride, tears of shame, and tears of absolute joy worked past my best defenses as I watched my baby girl, whom I long ago nicknamed “Smiley Eyes,” fall into the water and rise again as she gave herself to Jesus.

The tears are flowing again as I sit here and write.

Bill Washburn is recognized as a national hero for his sacrifices for our nation, but last Sunday, in my mind, he was revealed as an instrument of God’s Grace.

Because I was there to write about him, I was back in the church where I firmly believe I belong.

Because I met him, I witnessed the most defining moment in my baby’s life.

I love God’s surprises!

 

Billy Bruce is a freelance writer who lives in Pedro. He can be contacted at hollandkat3@aol.com.