The Airman and the Deacon's Daughter

May 1977 I was a typical teenage girl living in a loving, strict, protective godly Southern Baptist home on a high security military post in the middle of the Utah desert. For the most part raising children at Dugway, Utah couldn't have been more safe and secure. But, there were a couple of challenges my parents faced: our choosing a mate outside our faith, or our running off with a G.I.

That May I was one of approximately 35 classmates who had just proudly graduated from Dugway High School. My parents and I had grand plans for my future. I had been accepted and planned to attend Christian Heritage College in San Diego, CA later that fall. Mom and Daddy couldn't have been more proud!

Shortly after graduation I was blessed with a job working in the snack bar in the post bowling alley. I thoroughly enjoyed this job. I worked as many hours as I could saving my money for my new adventure in life. And, I was able to meet many new people who grew up in vastly different places from all over the country.

Late one evening he walked in. He was a tall, nice-looking, brown-eyed young Airman every bit a gentleman with a quiet southern charm and accent. He had come in after work with his older Sergeant; a big boisterous man with an accent that sounded like he came from the southern part of the south. Both men were at Dugway that summer TDY (temporary duty) from an air base.

The young Airman and his Sergeant would come to the bowling alley for their dinner every evening. The Airman, known only as "Rasco", would generally order the same thing every day - a grilled ham and cheese sandwich with fries and a glass of milk. I loved it when he would come in. One problem, he had gone out a few times with a friend and fellow classmate of mine who worked at the snack bar with me.

One day out of the blue my friend came to work and told me that "Rasco" asked her a lot of questions about me. She felt he would really like to ask me out and if he did that would be okay with her. She said he really seemed to like me.

A day or two later he did ask me out. He asked me to go to a party with him. Of course I said Iwould! Now, even though I was 18 and a high school graduate I still had a strictly enforced curfew of 10:00 p.m. That night I had called Mom just before 10:00 and asked if I could stay out longer she said no it was time to get home. I told her I would be home shortly.

It was around 1:00 a.m. "Rasco" was driving me down the deafeningly quiet dark street to take me home. As we approached my house I told him, "By the way, my parents have forbidden me to be with a G.I.." Needless to say, out of great fear he immediately stopped the car at the corner, leaned over, gave me a quick kiss good-night and politely opened my door. I walked the rest of the way to our little pale yellow cinder-block post home on west 5th street. Ever so quietly - or so I thought - I opened the front door and started down the lengthy dark hallway to the room I shared with my sister, RoiLynn. Suddenly, the strangest thing happened. This pair of brilliantly Tide white boxer shorts started toward me from the other end of the pitch hall! For some reason being attacked in the dark by a pair of flailing white shorts struck me as insanely funny (could also have been that I had been drinking at the party) and as I would get tickled the shorts just continued in their valiant pursuit of parental justice.

A couple of days following our first "date" Rasco walked into the bowling alley with some news. His request for an early discharge had been granted. He would be leaving in two days to out process...I cried. I had fallen in love with my young handsome Airman from Andrews called "Rasco." While holding hands across the small square table in the noisy little bowling alley my prince asked me to marry him. Without hesitation and with much exuberance I accepted his simple proposal!

I went home and told my folks of my new plans. Needless to say this did not go over well!

My sweet Airman told me he that knew my dad liked to golf and he had seen him on occasion at the golf course. He said he would just go up to him and introduce himself. I immediately replied, "Oh no you won't". In an flash I was back in that dark hallway with a pair of angry white boxers. I didn't want my quiet young Airman to experience the wrath of my upset, angry and seemingly over-protective dad.

That day I packed up the very few things that were mine and loaded them up in my prince's coach. The following day when I went to pick up my last paycheck my little brother Chris met me. He had briefly met my Airman, told me he liked him and wished me luck. Within minutes I rode in a crowded little two-door chevette through Dugway's main gate headed for a place called Andrews Air Force Base (or so I thought) with a man, I wasn't quite clear on his name.

Well, I very soon realized that "Rasco" was not a nickname and less than 3 weeks from our first date I, too, was answering to this strange new name. Oh, and he was not from Andrews Air Force Base, but rather from a small town called Andrews in West Texas.

Within the first three years we had three new little "Rasco's" our son Christopher and identical twin daughters Meghan and Amber. Our family has been greatly blessed. We've had more than our share of trials and struggles. God has proven himself as always faithful in his divine provision and protection of our little family.

Here it is the year 2010. Billy and I will celebrate our 33rd anniversary today! We live in a simple, cozy little home on the Wyoming prairie. We are blessed with six beautiful grandchildren.

"Now unto him that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that worketh in us" (Ephesians 3:20).

By the way, my parents and my sweet Billy enjoy a very close loving precious relationship with each other. Sometimes I even think that Billy could "run home" to my folks before I could! And, if you are wondering, Billy also was raised in a southern Baptist home!

As I gaze out at the beautiful mountain range from the porch of our home I thank God for my wonderful friend, partner, husband...my Billy and I say aloud to my heavenly Father, "Wow! All of this-and the promise of heaven, too!"

I encourage you to be thankful to your heavenly Father, who wants nothing less than the very best for you.

Chris

Today marks five years since the Lord called my beloved younger brother Chris home. God gave Chris to us for 42 years, 10 months and 25 days. When I think of his 15,669 days on this earth I'm reminded of the words to the old hymn, "This world is not my home, I'm just a passin' through."



Some of you knew Chris only as the young boy or teen...some of you may have only known Chris as the grown man, and some of you reading this may have never had the wonderful privilege to know Chris at all. No matter where you are in this list I hope that after reading these few words you will learn something new and wonderful about this very special...and only brother of mine.


Chris left to carry on this earthly pilgrimage a wonderful, loving wife and two beautiful children...all three of whom enjoy an extraordinarily close relationship with the Lord.


Also left to carry on are two of the most loving and giving parents God has placed on this earth, a grandmother, three sisters, many nieces and nephews, aunts, uncles and cousins who love him dearly and, to this day, miss his physical presence and gut-busting, red-faced, tears-rolling laughter in an almost unbearable manner.


While living on this side of heaven Chris was a good brother, beloved son, sweet grandson, cool uncle, quiet nephew, devoted husband and loving father...a man faithful to his church and a man who loved the Lord and his family.


Chris dearly loved animals. I remember when we were growing up our house was littered with scraps of paper with my mom's simple little sketches...horses, cows, birds, dogs, cats, giraffes, lions and lambs. Chris was forever asking mom to draw a particular animal and read to him the passage of scripture about how one day the lion would lie down with the lamb.


I'm so glad he followed his calling and chose a career in the medical field...treating and tenderly caring for people...from years spent in the neo-natal unit working on precious preemies to adults young and old while serving as a registered nurse in the critical cardio-care unit. He was so caring and compassionate and truly loved his position in this life. The only part of his job he disliked was telling family members of the passing of a loved-one...which he always did with deep compassion, sorrow and grace. I realized after his passing that there were countless lives he touched during his all to brief career.


I knew early that Chris would never be able to make a career as a mechanic--I realized this the morning after Billy, our three small children and I found him on a desolate Texas highway--towed his truck into a town and finally got to bed at 4:00 a.m. The following morning we were informed that when he "changed his oil" for the trip he had drained every ounce of transmission fluid and added four more quarts of oil to the motor! This is a story our family as told over and over around the dinner table...and laugh every time as though it was being told for the first time!


Chris never enjoyed being in the limelight. Even when he had received his many accolades and awards--mom and daddy would hear of such accomplishments from others as Chris, in his sincere humbleness, never would toot his own horn.


When I think about Chris I always think of the time when my youngest sister, Allison, was about to be born. My sister, RoiLynn, Chris and I went to stay with our grandparents in Bairoil, Wyoming for several weeks. Chris, only a little over 3 1/2 years old at the time, started to cry as we drove off in the Wyoming desert with Grandma and PopPops. PopPops always called Chris "Trit". When we would come upon the many, many herds of antelope along the drive PopPops would say, "Look there, Trit, look how the antelope run when they see ol' Trit coming!" This would make Chris laugh and excited to see the next herd run and run at the sight of ol' Trit.


PopPops then created new lyrics to an old familiar tune that our family continues to sing to this day. To the tune of "Here Comes Santa Claus" he would sing as the antelope ran, "Here comes Trittifer, here comes Trittifer, right down Trittifer lane..." and so on.


PopPops passed into Glory November 1989. I can't help but wonder, when Chris was being greeted and welcomed into the Kingdom of Heaven if over the rejoicing and harmonious melodies of the angels there was one man standing tall above the others--boisterously belting out (in a most heavenly way) a resounding rendition of "Here Comes Trittifer."


It's been five years now for those of us still living on this side of heaven...but, for Chris...only but a moment. How I long for and look forward to a great reunion with those who have gone on before me.

I encourage you to give God the glory for each new day he gives to you!