The Hand of God and the Kindness of Strangers

Yesterday was one of those days.

To start off, we got an email from Dad who told a story about his day in Mosul:

Near the air terminal, and near the hospital, and near the P.X. is a small, gravel lot that’s shaded by huge weeping willow trees—a quiet, peaceful place to park the bus and read, so I turned my bus in that direction and went there to wait. I sat and read a copy of the Stars and Stripes from the previous day, then, with a growing urge, I left the bus to walk 20 yards to the nearest Porta-John. Coming back from the P.J. I thought, “I need to get a Valentine in the mail to Candace this afternoon.” I changed my course and walked a half block to the P.X.

While I stood perusing the four Valentine choices, there was a thunderous explosion that rocked the building and raised an audible “Ohhhh” from everyone inside the P.X. As I stood in line to pay for my card, we could all hear the sirens rushing by.

I paid for Candace’s Valentine and stepped outside into the middle of unbelieveable chaos. There were Humvees with flashing red and blue lights, there were fire trucks, and there were armored vehicles from the E.O.D.T. (Explosive Ordnance Demolition Team). People were gathering from all around in the street and thick, black smoke roiled from the source. As I continued to walk up the street I kept wondering how I would ever get my bus through this maze of hubbub to go back and pick up the Major.

Arriving at the corner, I was struck dumb by the sight. The entire front of my now smoldering bus was gone! I stood and stared in total disbelief. When I finally recovered enough to wobble to the M.P. who was shouting orders at everyone, I calmly said, “I’m the driver. This is my bus.”

“Was there anyone else in there?” I could see the sudden expression of panic and hopeful anticipation flash in his eyes.

“No, sir. Just me.”

“Thank God!” Then, turning away, he shouted, “It’s all good! No casualties!”

I found a concrete barrier to sit down on. Behind the bus, sitting on the wooden steps that led into their shack, were two Philipino men, both faces buried in their hands as they considered how close they had been to the deadly force. I unclipped my radio from my belt and called my foreman. “My bus has just been mortared. I’ve got firefighters, E.O.D., and Force Protection all over the place. I’m not going to be driving this bus back.”

For the next hour I filled out reports and gave my statement to half a dozen people, and as they finally began to drive away I was able to take a closer look at the damage that a five-inch, tube-launched bomb can do.

The shell entered at the base of the windshield in the center. The dashboard was gone, the engine and transmission were gone, the steering wheel was bent until it leaned against the driver’s door, and the two front seats were charred and blown backward about two feet. Miraculously, my backpack that had been sitting on the engine box was lying nearly intact about halfway back in the aisle. My sunglasses that had been laid on the backpack were embedded in the steel ceiling of the bus. There were no windows left, and the broken glass that had been blown everywhere was black—not with soot, but the glass itself had darkened to an inky black.

When I picked up my backpack, there were two small holes in the bottom. I opened the pack and found that my scriptures, my camera, and my CD’s [sic] were untouched! I took out the camera, wiped the dust off, and took a few photos of what was left of the giant puffed wheat kernel that had been my bus.

My foreman quietly put his hand on my shoulder and said, “Somebody’s looking out for you.” I already knew it. I had already humbly expressed my gratitude to a loving Father in Heaven for His protecting care. My pillow throughout the night was soaked as I continued to give my thanks.

The hand of God played a part in keeping Dad safe yesterday. Needless to say, I was kind of shaken when I read this.

But it doesn’t end there.

At about noon yesterday, I was sitting at work, and I started to feel some serious aches and chills. I went home for lunch and soaked in a hot bath to help get rid of some of the aches. After the bath, I felt a lot better, so I returned to work, because our auditors are in town, and I’ve been working with them to make sure that they got all the stuff that they needed. Well, around 4:00, the aches and the chills started coming back, until there was a period of 20 minutes when I just couldn’t stop shivering. I told Kristi that I was heading home, went out to the 4Runner, and started driving home.

As I drove, I could see the wind gusting across the highway, blowing snow across the ground like fog. I didn’t think anything of it because that’s pretty normal here, until I got hit by a gust that threw the truck into a fishtail. Fortunately, I was calm enough to remember to steer with the skid instead of against it, and after a couple of fishtails, I regained some control, but unfortunately, not enough, and I slid off the highway into a very deep drift of snow.

I threw the truck into 4-wheel drive low, and tried to get out of the snow, but it was too deep. Another truck pulled over to the side of the road, and a young guy named Steven (he wouldn’t give me his last name) pulled out a couple of tow chains, and quickly pulled me out. How grateful I am for kind strangers who recognize trouble and do what they can to help. After he pulled me out, I shook his hand and thanked him, and he told me how “lucky” I had been to pull out of the skid. When he saw me down the road, he said that my truck had nearly turned sideways, and he thought for sure that I was going to roll the truck. The Lord was watching over the Clarks yesterday.

After I got home, Julie called two wonderful men, who dropped what they were doing to come and serve me by administering to me. They blessed me that I would quickly heal, and that I would be able to return to my duties very soon. Within an hour of the blessing, I had regained an appetite, and the chills that had caused me to shiver for most of the afternoon alleviated, and I was able to stand up without dizzyness. A little later, my fever had subsided, and I was able to sleep soundly last night.

I’m so grateful to have the protective hand of a Loving Heavenly Father in my life. Even though I hardly deserve any of His blessings, He sees fit to keep and watch over me and mine.