"The Lost Angel
by Sissy Freeborn
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We have had so many bad storms here
in Georgia this spring. When that happens, there is always talk of the
"lost angel", at O'Brian's Tavern and Inn. For you see, it is
the last stop for the bus from Blairsville.
John Buford strained to see the
roadway, through the night darkness. Rain came down in sheets, across the
road. It had been a long day and he was driving the last bus from Blairsville,
into Blue Ridge. He was late, but it could not be helped. The storm flooded
the road and he had to slow the bus down, or risk disaster. He didn't let
his passengers know that the condition of the road scared him or how dangerous
he thought it was. His counter reminded him that there were 19 passengers
on his bus. There were more onboard tonight than usual, but the "big
game" was the explanation for that.
Marty Taverson looked at his pocket
watch. He was upset that the bus was running thirty minutes late and they
were still miles away from Blue Ridge.
Four of the home team football players
were on the bus, gleefully celebrating their victory. They were too busy
flirting, with three of the team's cheerleaders, to notice the dangerous
weather conditions.
Mr. Shepherd, and his wife, both
had worried looks on their faces. They were very aware of the risks, of
the wet road and driving rain.
Two salesmen were sitting, in the
back of the bus, talking quietly about the storm, with Tatty Greenfield
and her sister.
There were three men, in work clothes,
with thermos bottles. They had just finished a long day at the mill and
were heading home, to a late, but warm, supper.
Beanie Chappelle sat, sleeping,
in his seat. As usual, he'd had too much beer, at the game. In his drunken
stupor, he had no idea there even was a storm raging outside.
Miss Donaled was also riding on
the bus that night. She was contemplating suicide and took no notice of
the perilous road. With just a few simple words from a doctor, her whole
world had just tuned as black and hopeless as the storm outside. "I
am so sorry, Miss Donaled," the doctor had said, "but we have
discovered that you have multiple sclerosis. There is no cure." As
that horrible diagnosis echoed in her head, she was certain that she did
not have the strength to face life with a "sentence" of multiple
sclerosis.
John stared hard at the road. What
he saw was not possible. The pavement was falling away...being sucked down
into the abyss of hell. When he remembered to apply the breaks, it was
to late. Without warning, the last bus from Blairsville plunged down the
washed-out ravine, headed straight for the rain-swollen river.
Mrs. Shepherd screamed, "Dear
God, help us!!!" The next instant, a log, that had been part of a
tree uprooted by the savage storm, crashed through one of the windows beside
Miss Donaled, ripping the stylish hat she had been wearing and smashing
into her forehead. She collapsed like a rag doll.
The bus wrenched, as it slid on
its side, and plunged into the river, at break neck speed.
Marty Taverson came up, gasping
for air. People were screaming all around him. He first saw the small woman,
Miss Donaled. Her face was covered in blood.
"Fat chance," he thought.
"Gods love does not exist down here...only death."
Miss Donaled opened her eyes and
saw the blurry image of a man, in a white rain coat .
"Are you all right?" he
asked.
"Yes," she replied, as
he wiped the blood from her face and discovered that only a small cut had
produced all the liquid.
He stood up and announced, "Friends,
we're just above Donahue Falls. We have to get this bus to shore before
it goes over the falls, with us trapped inside."
The other men quickly found some
cable in the bus, lassoed a thick tree limb and pulled for their lives.
The bus had already drifted past the limb, in the swift river current,
before their efforts brought the bus to the riverbank.
One by one, the passengers climbed
out of the bus and made their way, safely, to higher ground.
Finally, it was Miss Donaled's turn
to be taken off the bus. She had been resting in the arms of the man with
the white raincoat. She felt so safe there...safer than she had been in
a long time. Not since she had been a little girl, saying her bedtime prayers
with her mother and father kneeling beside her, had she felt so protected
and secure.
At this moment, in the "here
and now", she heard a gentle voice saying, "Do not worry. When
you need the strength, I will give it to you, in great measure." The
"voice" filled Miss Donaled with a peaceful calm and she knew,
at that instant, that she would triumph over her MS.
As she turned to get off the bus,
she turned to the man and said, "Thank you for your help. Without
it, we ...... I would have been lost."
"No," the man responded.
"I am the one lost and, if it were not for you, I would have never
found my way home."
Miss Donaled's blinked her eyes,
because the man's white rain coat seemed to shimmer in the light.
Her attention was diverted, however,
when the bus suddenly lurched. The large limb, to which the bus was secured,
was giving way. Slowly, the bus began to slide back into the black, swirling
waters of the rain-swollen river.
The man, in the shimmering white
raincoat, smiled and tossed Miss Donaled into the arms of the football
team, who caught her in perfect form. Then he was gone... and so was the
bus. The remaining passengers trudged up the bank and crossed the road
to O'Brian's Tavern...and to safety.
"I just don't understand it,"
John Buford told the sheriff, later that night. "There were 19 people
on that bus. My counter read 19."
"So, John, what is the problem?"
the Sheriff replied, puzzled. "We HAVE 19 people here."
"Yes, but we lost one. The
man in the white rain coat was washed away with the bus. There should be
18 here then," John continued, while shaking his head in disbelief.
Trying to reassure John, the Sheriff
said, "Well, perhaps you're mistaken. Maybe you really rang up 20
and didn't realize it."
Two days later, they found the smashed
and crumpled bus, at the bottom of the 120 foot falls. Noone was found
inside. But, as the police have been known to say, it would have been easy
for a body to be washed out. A body wasn't ever found along the river and
the Sheriff never could explain why the passenger counter still
registered 19, when the bus was discovered at the bottom of Donahue Falls.
There are times when all of us feel
we have fallen into the dark places of the earth ...away from God's healing
love. But, that is only a misperception. God never leaves our side.
We just forget to turn toward him for help and comfort. In times of trouble,
we need only reach out to touch the face of God. It just requires simple
faith...and perhaps, an angel, who has, for a moment, lost his way, too.
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