MILLICAN: A summer of challenge and trust

Published 9:30 am Monday, August 5, 2024

As the temperature gauge on Teresa’s Sequoia spiked once again to “H” I thought to myself “How can this be? We just got it out of the shop!” Prior to traveling to Jekyll Island with grandsons Elijah and Samuel for a last blast before school starts back, the air conditioning was blowing cold and hot. So after a half-pound of Freon was added and fluids were checked, we were given the “good to go” assurance from my mechanic just before hitting the road.

After noticing the car appeared to be overheating only while idling in traffic, I dismissed putting it back into the shop. It was too close to time for leaving, and besides, it’s an older model and is probably just feeling its years — like some of us.

So off we went and sure enough, the air conditioning blew just grandly on the highway. And other than my fixation with watching that needle when we ventured into Brunswick, it was a fun trip. A day at the massive water park on the island was refreshing (for the record, Pop and Gran rode every high-rise, corkscrew ride in the place) and on another outing we paid a bit extra on a Cessna flight for Elijah to get to co-pilot the plane. Our perky young female pilot, Lauren, was an excellent teacher, and now Elijah wants to get his pilot’s license when he turns 17. Pop wants to as well — when he turns 70!

The ride back to North Georgia was uneventful as we once again took the Highway 441 bypass route — Dublin, Milledgeville, Eatonton — to avoid the horrendous north-of-Macon I-75 stretch with its 90-minute-plus slowdown traffic jams both ways.

We took the boys home, docked at our Varnell house for a few hours, then drove on over to Ellijay. Teresa dropped me off at the office to get my truck, then she headed for Chick-fil-A to grab supper. Within minutes of getting home, my cellphone rang and she was in tears. Her car had “exploded” just before getting the food, yet she was able to steer it into a parking space. In the rain with steam still rising from under the hood, we moved all the luggage out of her car into my truck and left it parked there.

(Teresa was thankful to the Chick-fil-A staff who tried to help. As for the man who was irritated that her lack of textbook parking inconvenienced him while she was going through visible trouble, let’s just agree it takes all types.)

Next morning, I called the garage and then a wrecker to take it back to them. My wife asked me how much I thought the repair bill was going to be and I said “North of $800” if the radiator had to be replaced.

Next day the shop called and reported a new thermostat was installed, with a new hose and gasket — and the damage was all of $245. To think we drove all that way with our grandsons, including through eight lanes of Atlanta traffic going and coming, without that hose blowing off until my wife was in a safe place still boggles our minds. Thank you, Lord!

Also in July, we celebrated our oldest grandson Reece’s birthday — at 15 (yes, it’s hard to believe), he is now in possession of an Alabama learner’s license. I’ve always said nothing deepens the prayer life of a parent like their teenager getting that permit to drive a guided, road-bound missile.

His birthday reminded me that it almost wasn’t. Allow me to explain. When our daughter Amy was pregnant with Reece, her mother-in-law Debbie Wright joined Teresa and me on a trip to the airport to pick her and Devin up on Christmas Eve. After their long flight from California we all stopped for breakfast at Cracker Barrel on the north rim of Atlanta. Suddenly, Amy began to cramp.

We were alarmed when she quickly came back from the bathroom to tell us she was bleeding. We grabbed each other’s hands and prayed around the table, then got up to leave. The waitress wouldn’t even allow me to pay for our drinks when I told her why we had to go.

We spent most of the day at Kennestone Hospital — where she had worked as a nurse — and it all turned out well. However, Teresa told me that on Christmas morning the Lord told her if we hadn’t prayed, Reece would have died before he saw the world.

We’ve prayed for years for our grandchildren, and especially so when they’re in the car with us. I wish it were true that prayers are always answered, but after losing my parents to stroke complications and cancer, I can attest that prayers for their healing seemed to have no effect. However, were they ultimately healed? That’s just it — we all have an eventual expiration date, but our Creator doesn’t bar-code it into our psyche. Therefore we can be shocked when death comes, quickly or not, since God may not have forewarned us.

Just before leaving for Jekyll, I received a photo of Elijah holding a 5-foot king snake in his yard. And it was not the first time. He and Samuel are familiar with critters, having a menagerie of goats, chickens, a three-legged dog — and a perceptive cat. When Elijah was sitting on a couch in the living room, the kitty started acting up. Our second-oldest grandson pulled up a cushion to find the king snake. I know they’re the best serpent to have around — they will eat their venomous cousins — but still, he could have been bitten.

I’ve tried not to get into the “theological high weeds” in this column, and I’m aware many readers may say it makes no sense and is ultimately unfruitful to put our prayers and trust and hope in a spiritual being whose substance we cannot see. However, you’ll have a hard time convincing me otherwise.

Sometimes, it just comes down to believing prayers are being heard — and having faith.

Mark Millican is a former staff writer for the Dalton Daily Citizen.