I was blessed to be able to go to a Christian school growing up. In fact, I attended the same school from kindergarten to 12th grade. Now, I didn't think I was blessed during that time. In fact, I hoped and prayed that my parents would put me in public school, but now that I look back, I'm so glad they didn't. I feel like I got a much better education, although I don't think it really prepared me for the real world once I got to college. But, that's an adventure story for another day...
We had storms in our state the other night, like we do quite often here in Oklahoma, and I remembered a particular thunderstorm that happened when I was in the 3rd grade.
It was a Sunday morning and my dad was a co-director of a Sunday School (SS) class. My mom was an employee at the church and they televised sermons weekly, so she was often taking phone calls while my dad set up for SS every week. Sometimes my sister and I would hang with my mom and other times we would hang with my dad. This particular Sunday, I was with my dad.
As I was helping him set up, thunderstorms rolled in and the electricity kept flickering. Seeing that losing electricity was imminent, my dad sent me downstairs to see if my mom had any candles that we could light just in case. So, I did as I was told, but after I retrieved some of the candles and was headed back upstairs, the elevator door opened up and I thought "why not?" (you know, because a third grader doesn't clearly think through things) and hopped in with about 10 other people. As soon as the doors closed, we were on our way, but then the electricity went out for good.
You see, I wasn't worried about being in there because I knew all about elevators - they are what my dad worked on for a living. He would tell us stories about getting people out of elevators all the time, but I had never actually been stuck on one myself. What I didn't like was that the elevator was crowded, hot and there was no room to sit down. AND...my super hot crush was on the elevator too. I couldn't even look at him because I knew he knew that I liked him. But anyway...it was a very uncomfortable situation.
After we were in there for what seemed like hours, even though it was probably only 20 minutes, the elevator lights came on and we started to move. But, we weren't moving like the elevator should, we were moving bit by bit. It was going to take a long time to get us out. Again, I had put on a brave face because...ahem...my crush was staring right at me. I couldn't let him down with all my 3rd grade cuteness.
When the temperature started to get unbearable in the elevator, the doors began to be forced open. So with about 2 feet between the bottom of the elevator and the top of the first floor opening, I peaked out to see the hands of my daddy forcing those doors open. He had come to rescue us. I remember crawling out into his arms, hugging him and crying uncontrollably because at that point, not only was my dad MY hero, but he was the hero of the day to all those other people on the elevator. My dad has always been and always will be my hero.
Years later, when we were talking about it, my parents had no idea that I was on that elevator. The minute the church knew the elevator was stuck and there were people on it, they went and got him because he was the expert. He was the only one there that day who could get us out. I'm sure he was just as surprised and happy to see me as I was to see him.
As my dad laid on his bed at hospice 10 months ago, I recalled that story and thanked him again for being my hero. Not just that day, but every day since then. He had become unconscious at that point and was not able to communicate, and I had no idea if he could even hear what I was saying to him. Until I looked up and saw a tear roll down his cheek. And I was grateful that I had one last time to remember that 3rd grade adventure and to thank him for being my life hero.
We had storms in our state the other night, like we do quite often here in Oklahoma, and I remembered a particular thunderstorm that happened when I was in the 3rd grade.
It was a Sunday morning and my dad was a co-director of a Sunday School (SS) class. My mom was an employee at the church and they televised sermons weekly, so she was often taking phone calls while my dad set up for SS every week. Sometimes my sister and I would hang with my mom and other times we would hang with my dad. This particular Sunday, I was with my dad.
As I was helping him set up, thunderstorms rolled in and the electricity kept flickering. Seeing that losing electricity was imminent, my dad sent me downstairs to see if my mom had any candles that we could light just in case. So, I did as I was told, but after I retrieved some of the candles and was headed back upstairs, the elevator door opened up and I thought "why not?" (you know, because a third grader doesn't clearly think through things) and hopped in with about 10 other people. As soon as the doors closed, we were on our way, but then the electricity went out for good.
You see, I wasn't worried about being in there because I knew all about elevators - they are what my dad worked on for a living. He would tell us stories about getting people out of elevators all the time, but I had never actually been stuck on one myself. What I didn't like was that the elevator was crowded, hot and there was no room to sit down. AND...my super hot crush was on the elevator too. I couldn't even look at him because I knew he knew that I liked him. But anyway...it was a very uncomfortable situation.
After we were in there for what seemed like hours, even though it was probably only 20 minutes, the elevator lights came on and we started to move. But, we weren't moving like the elevator should, we were moving bit by bit. It was going to take a long time to get us out. Again, I had put on a brave face because...ahem...my crush was staring right at me. I couldn't let him down with all my 3rd grade cuteness.
When the temperature started to get unbearable in the elevator, the doors began to be forced open. So with about 2 feet between the bottom of the elevator and the top of the first floor opening, I peaked out to see the hands of my daddy forcing those doors open. He had come to rescue us. I remember crawling out into his arms, hugging him and crying uncontrollably because at that point, not only was my dad MY hero, but he was the hero of the day to all those other people on the elevator. My dad has always been and always will be my hero.
Years later, when we were talking about it, my parents had no idea that I was on that elevator. The minute the church knew the elevator was stuck and there were people on it, they went and got him because he was the expert. He was the only one there that day who could get us out. I'm sure he was just as surprised and happy to see me as I was to see him.
As my dad laid on his bed at hospice 10 months ago, I recalled that story and thanked him again for being my hero. Not just that day, but every day since then. He had become unconscious at that point and was not able to communicate, and I had no idea if he could even hear what I was saying to him. Until I looked up and saw a tear roll down his cheek. And I was grateful that I had one last time to remember that 3rd grade adventure and to thank him for being my life hero.
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