The Last Circuit Preacher

“Oh, No! Please God. Not my little girl. She’s only 13. Take me. I’m 53, and ready to go.” Ben was pleading with God about his daughter, Lavada. She was lying on the bed in the next room, with fever and chills, struggling to breathe. She had pneumonia and was not doing well. Dr. Monroe had just left. “There’s nothing I can do,” he said. “Keep her comfortable. That’s all I can tell you.” Ben’s mind flashed back ten years to the time Lavada was three years old. She had diphtheria at that time and was not expected to live. Her temperature hovered around 105 degrees for three days. Dr. Monroe didn’t give her any hope of surviving then either. She did survive, but the extremely high fever caused severe brain damage. Now she was again struggling for her life. Lavada was growing into a lovely young lady. She was an exceedingly loving person, with childlike faith and trust in everyone. After her first illness, she had to learn everything over again. She never progressed beyond the skills and social graces of a five-year-old, but she dearly loved all the members of her family. Ben had a special love for Lavada, and would gladly give up his life for her. Ben’s thoughts returned to the present. Unless God performed a miracle, his little girl would surely die. He prayed, “God, I know You don’t make mistakes. If it’s Your will, would You please heal my little girl? If not, I am ready to accept Your decision.” Even though Ben’s health was also failing, he sat up with Lavada all night, with the kerosene lamp burning. He watched her every movement and agonized over her labored breathing. The least he could do was be with her to the end. The next morning, on Sunday, February 4, 1940, at 9:00, Lavada passed from this life to her heavenly home. Her struggles were over, but Ben was devastated, as were the other members of his family. “You’ve been up all night. Why don’t you get some sleep?” suggested Ben’s wife, Tildie. “Loran and I will do the chores. Theta, would you wash the dishes? It would help me a lot.” “Yes, I will,” answered five-year-old Theta. “I’ll get some sleep,” Ben said. “I’m very tired.” Tildie and nine-year-old Loran went to the barn to milk the cows and feed the livestock. The rest of the farm labor would have to wait for a few days, until the present crisis was over. Even though most people didn’t have a telephone, news spread rapidly in rural Oklahoma. By late afternoon, almost all of Ben’s neighbors had already heard of the passing of his little girl. They arranged a wake for her, to be held that night. The little two-room house where he and his family lived was filled with concerned neighbors, friends and relatives. Everyone comforted Ben and his family and showed their love in various ways. The next morning, Ben and Tildie’s oldest son, Francis, took him to Lindsay, to pick out a casket and arrange for the funeral. Embalming was seldom done in those days, so the burial was set for February 6, the next day. The Lindsay Funeral Home picked up Lavada’s body that afternoon and got her ready for the services and the graveside rites. After the funeral, most of the friends and family who attended returned to Ben and Tildie’s house for a dinner, prepared by Tildie and some of her daughters and daughters-in-law. All of them pitched in and helped with the cooking. During the dinner, many of Ben’s relatives and friends offered comfort. “I feel your loss,” Ben and Tildie’s daughter, Gertrude, said. “I know it’s not the same, but I loved her too. I’ll miss her very much.” “She was such a sweet child,” Gertrude’s husband, Orville, said. “I know you’ll miss her, but God can comfort you in your grief. He is faithful to His children.” Ben nodded in agreement, but said nothing. To talk at that time would most likely bring another flood of tears. He just didn’t have anything to say at the time. Maybe later he could discuss his extreme grief, but not now. For the next several days, Ben was often seen going to the barn. His family knew he was going there for his prayer time, so they didn’t bother him until he came out. Even so, one or more of the family would frequently hear him calling out to his Lord. “God, I don’t understand why my little girl was taken from me,” they repeatedly heard him say, as tears streamed down his face. “She was such a joy to me, and it was my pleasure to have her home full time for the past year. I miss her so much.” One day, while in earnest prayer, Ben was silent for a few minutes. That’s when he heard the voice. It was an almost audible sound inside his head. Ben immediately recognized it as God talking to him. “Ben,” the voice said. “I know you love your little girl very much. I know you want to die and be in heaven with her. I am aware of all your thoughts, but I have work for you to do for Me. I want you to return to ministering My gospel. When I am through with you, I will call you home and you can again be with Lavada. In the meantime, I will take good care of her. She will be in My hands.” Ben’s mind returned to the time he was ministering as a layman in the Methodist church at Brock, Texas. He held that position for many years. Preaching the gospel was nothing new to him, but somehow he felt it would be different this time. He pondered the calling he had just received. “As You wish,” Ben answered. “If that’s what You want, I am willing to be Your servant.”