Excellent Following God one day at a time One Man's Calling : One Man's Calling, Ch18 by Wayne Fowler

In the last part Ben collapsed a cave, killing himself and Mason Salinger, a very bad man. Leaving his body beneath the mountain, his friends returned home with the bad news. A funeral service was held for him. Ben slowly opened his eyes, wondering where Jesus was, the disciples, St Peter, someone to welcome him to heaven. Presently, Ben saw a man approach. “Pa,” Ben said, recognizing him. “Yes, son. It’s me.” “You …” “Manassas, but we only speak of pleasant things here.” Ben looked around. “It’s, it’s …” “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Ben agreed, gasping at the beauty of the flora. “Is this heaven?” “Oh, just a taste. Just a taste.” “Where’s Jesus? Can you take me?” “That’s why I’m here, son. You took a powerful crack on the head. “I know about your calling, but it isn’t over. He’s not through with you if you want to go back.” Ben understood what he was being offered, but questioned it anyway. “You mean I could go back into my body and …” Ben’s father nodded. “But it won’t be the same. God said that you would be completely healed. I felt, though, that your calling would be changed, to a different people.” Ben gazed about. “I don’t see anyone.” Ben’s father smiled. “I’d like to help get this place filled up.” Ben’s father’s smile opened to a toothy grin. “Kinda thought so.” He started to say something, but was cut short. “I know. It won’t be an easy row to hoe. Easy isn’t my call.” As Ben’s father hugged him, Ben felt another’s presence, a comforting, healing presence that flooded his soul. He coughed once, spewing dust from his mouth. By feel, he determined that he was in an arch, two huge boulders supporting a monolithic slab roof. It was small, especially for his stout frame, but Ben sensed an exit, meandering around, over, sometimes under, weaving its way from the collapsed cave. Freedom was hours away, but it was eventually his after kicking out the last few feet of rubble. “Hello?” Ben expected no response. He saw no one, and heard no one. He could use a drink of water, but felt entirely whole, invigorated, even. He wasn’t surprised. Grand Junction was the obvious destination. That he would meet up with his compatriots was unlikely, but there would be another train that could get him back to Creede. As if confirming Ben’s call, he wasn’t long onto the road toward Mesa when a lone traveler driving a wagon with a two-horse team rounded a bend going Ben’s direction. He slowed to a stop. “If you c’n drive this team, you c’n ‘ave a lift,” he said in a brogue Ben was unfamiliar with. “Wheel come off just back o’er dat rise. Broke me finger and drivin’ ‘urts lahk fahr.” “Let’s have a look,” Ben said, reaching up to where the man sat. “It’s ‘at … ewee. Dón know if ‘at hurts, or …” Up until this point, the man laced his speech with every other utterance a curse, or foul word. Ben merely touched the obviously broken middle finger. “Name’s Jay. It’s longer, but Jay’s good ‘nough fer me.” Jay started to use his hand to help Ben up. “That finger’s still broken. Feels better, and in place, but broken. Got any twine, or rawhide?” Jay glanced about, his expression one of confusion. “Here, give me your bandana.” Ben wrapped the broken finger tightly to its ring finger neighbor. “We get to Mesa, you tie it up like that and keep it tied for a month. It’ll be fine. Here, give me your hand again. We’ll pray for it.” Jay couldn’t help himself from lighting up, though he quickly reverted back to a straight face. “You a …” Interrupting, Ben began to pray. “Lord Jesus, you’ve already heard and answered my prayer, but this time, I’m asking that you touch Jay: body, mind, and spirit. Give him comfort and a peace he hasn’t known in a very long time. Thank you, Lord.” Ben hopped onto the wagon as Jay made room for him. Taking the reins, Ben snapped the team to business. “You’re Ben, that Ben fella. Heard ‘bout choo from a hunter stopped at the Lazy S. He stopped for a meal last fall. You a preacher? My mee-maw tuck me ta mass. Her brother was the priest. Thirty-fi’, forty year back.” The absence of foul language made Ben smile. “No, I’m not a preacher. Could, though. But I’m just a wanderer, I guess. Looks like he wandered me right to you.” Jay smiled. “Or me to you. You think he knocked me wheel off and bust me finger?” Ben laughed. “He mighta. Your soul worth a broken finger to you?” Jay looked skyward. “Coulda broke my arm, be aw-right.” Ben snapped the reins to let the team know he was still there, not to slack off. “Can you read, Jay?” “C’n read.” Jay didn’t ask why. “While yer at the mercantile getting supplies, I’m gonna get you a Bible. I’ll show you where to start. And don’t you worry. God will talk to you from his word just like he talks to me.” Jay nodded, and kept nodding. +++ While in Mesa, Ben heard of a prisoner at the jail, a horse thief who was going to be hung. As soon as the Bible was delivered and Jay shown where to start, Ben headed to the jail. Ten minutes after meeting him, Walter Schuster was crying like a baby, apologizing to God. “Ben, they’re gonna hang me in two days, Thursdy sun-up. Would you go up there with me, up on the gallows?” “Sure I will Walter. Sure I will. And I’ll be back here tomorrow to visit with you, maybe help you write a letter to your folks. Tell how you’ve made things right with God.” “They’d like that, Mister Ben. They’d like that.” By the time Ben saw Walter into his grave, he’d missed the Thursday train that would have started his journey up to Grand Junction and then on to Creede. Ben’s own funeral would be held on that next Saturday. As fortune had it, his connection to Creede required another day layover. +++ As the train slowed, Ben hopped off from between cars. He felt strongly impressed not to make a public appearance. While in prayer, God plainly told him that he’d been buried and that his friends had made peace with it. Ben acknowledged to himself that he had in fact died. And had been buried. On the bank of the Rio Grande, Ben finished the last of his biscuits and waited until full darkness to make his way to Livvy and William’s house. Ben’s arrival timed to Livvy’s return from the outhouse. She froze, seeing Ben, not clearly enough to make out his features in the darkness, but knowing it to be him, sensing his presence. “Ben, are you real? Has God sent you as an angel?” “Livvy?” William half shouted his whisper out the door having heard her voice. The opened door shined enough light that they both recognized Ben. While William stood amazed, Livvy launched herself to Ben, shamelessly wrapping herself around him. Ben hugged her back. “Come inside, both of you,” William whispered. “Neighbors will think Livvy a crazy woman. At the doorway, William stood staring in amazement as Livvy reached up to kiss him, recognizing that her husband might require some affirmation of her love. “William, it’s Ben! He’s real, and not a ghost!” Ben smiled. Ben told them the story – his death, visit to heaven, and return to earth and the events of the past few days. “God has made it clear to me. He let me come here. Let everyone remain at peace with my passage in these parts. But I had to treat you and your parents as I would want them, you, to treat me. So I waited until dark. But if you would bring your parents over here in the morning … and the preacher, Pastor Parnell. He needs to know, since he preached my funeral.” Livvy and William shot glances to one another, knowing that they had yet to tell Ben of his funeral. “Oh, how could you not have a memorial service. Hope he said a few good things about me.” Ben chuckled, drawing Ben and Livvy into his joke. +++ Again, Ben told his story once Ralph, May, and Joshua arrived. Livvy and William were as spellbound as if hearing it for the first time. “… And the calling takes me to Chicago.” As one, all but Joshua Parnell shouted “Chicago!” back to him. Ben smiled. A cattle train from Pueblo will be waiting for me.” Ben said it as if he had a reservation. This time, all five nodded understanding. “Ben, Joshua said, a degree of authority in his delivery, “The people of Creede have been extraordinarily generous. There’s $410 in an account I opened some months ago, not knowing why, or what it was for. Now I know. If you’ll wait until the bank opens …” Ben nodded acceptance and understanding. He knew how God worked and would not begrudge Joshua the heavenly blessing that comes from following God’s will. “Thank you, Joshua. You know that it will go to good use.” All but Joshua said in unison, “He knows,” drawing chuckles from all. Ben was on the next train out of town, hopping aboard near the same place he’d jumped off the day before. Author Notes Ben Persons: a man following God's call Jay: Lazy S ranch hand driving a wagon to town for supplies Walter Schuster: prisoner scheduled to be executed Livvy and William: longtime friends of Ben Ralph and May: longtime friends of Ben Joshua Parnell: preacher in Creede There are many, many accounts of near-death experiences. Most, though not all, relate a light. I, obviously, opted not to.

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