Bob's Story As I Know It
He'd started the day with $3 in his pocket. He'd worked at the same place for 30 years. He is married, but drugs and alcohol on the part of other family members have left him broke and broken. He can no longer pick up the pieces of the life he once knew. So he chose to follow the advice of wise counsel and start over. A friend and former co-worker promised help to find a job and a place to stay while he got back on his feet. It was a humble offer, but the promise of stability and hope was too great to refuse.
Not having a car to make the greater-than-70-mile journey was an issue that could hold him back no longer. He started walking east. He was used to walking. To the store, to work. The hours rolled by and the Tulsa skyline began to fade like the past he was leaving. He willed himself not to even look back. The decision was made, he was starting over. Leaving it all behind.
Cars zoomed past him, still, he walked. Sweat poured down his face as the afternoon sun beat down on him. Thankful for his hat, he trudged on. Three dollars doesn't go very far for something to eat, but he was much more concerned about water. A Monster and a gallon of water would get him out of town. He had no idea how far it was to Siloam Springs, but he knew he could walk a little further.
By evening he was hungry, tired, lonely. Ribbons of road stretched endlessly before him. He'd never been to Siloam Springs. He had no idea how much further he needed to go. He'd turned his phone off to save the battery. He didn't need to know, it made no difference, he just had to go. So he walked on.
A police officer stopped to question him. He did not relish telling the story and explaining why he was walking so far. Perhaps a bit of hope for help along the journey came to mind. But it was a fleeting thought. The officer wasn’t interested in helping him, just keeping his people safe. Convinced Bob was not a threat, the officer went back to the rest of his duties. Bob kept walking.
No one else stopped. Cars passed by. Some moved over to the other lane, others didn’t. The wind was a nice break from the heat. Sometimes he wondered how far he’d come and how far he had to go. He began thinking about his options. He knew he could not walk all night. Maybe he’d make it all the way to Siloam before he was too tired to keep going. What if it was further than he could walk? Would it be safe to sleep alongside the road? That was the plan, to just curl up on the grass and rest until he could keep going. He had long since given up hope that someone would stop.
Cars passed, he walked.
He saw brake lights. A car pulled over up ahead. A tinge of panic swept over him. He was too tired to fight. It was dark enough that he could not see. The vehicle seemed to back up a few times, then it stopped. He walked slowly. Hope began to drive out the fear. He walked a little quicker. He approached the car and began to make a path to go around it.
A tiny figure of a woman jumped out of the car and offered him a ride. All fear left him, and he agreed. His weary body melted into the passenger side of the car. It smelled faintly of old smoke and sickly sweet deodorizer. A computer bag, purse and some other shopping bag not filled with food were all he saw in the Jeep. She seemed kind. Anyway, he was too tired of walking to be afraid. She was talkative but guarded. He was distracted. Finally, he realized she was asking his name. Bob. He told her he was walking to Siloam Springs. The questions came. She was making conversation. It was work. He wasn’t much of a talker.
He asked how far it was to Siloam. As she explained he realized just how far he still had to come. Relief. Thankfulness. The reality of the situation. The weight of the decision. The consequences. The hope. The sheer exhaustion. Like waves, these thoughts and emotions washed over him. The miles flew past now. He imagined walking each one. He began to open up and tell of his day. She was easy to talk to as most strangers are. But she listened. She spoke of God. There was a confidence about her in the way she spoke about HIm.
“He wanted to bless you today, Bob. He has plans for you.” He said nothing. The periods of silence grew longer as she drove. She was thinking. She shared that she had been in Tulsa to see her father in the hospital. She, too, had had a long day. She, too, was tired. Earlier she had mentioned that her exit was not the last on the turnpike. That there were a few miles before it ended then miles more before he would reach the Arkansas border. His thoughts returned to where he would sleep. How he would walk the many more miles to go. He was too grateful to ask her to go further. She was deep in thought, her hand occasionally still touching her phone which she kept tucked under her leg. She offered him her phone charger when he mentioned that he’d turned his phone off to save the battery.
She stopped to pay the toll. She fished five bills out of her purse. She fed three into the bill changer and paid the toll. He wondered why, if they had a machine that could take bills to give change, they didn’t have a machine that could take bills to pay the toll. She handed him the two other bills. He was confused.
“You are going to need money.” she said, “It isn’t much, but it is more than you had.”
He tried to refuse but she insisted, telling him of how just the other day someone had helped her out.
“When you get on your feet, you can do this for someone else.”
Bob stammered out a thank you. There was no pity, no judgment in her words, just an expectation and a desire to help. She seemed so sincere. And she had made up her mind.
“I’ll take you all the way to Siloam.” She said. “That is where I go shopping, and I know the main streets, but your friend will have to give me directions to where he lives.”
Bob was speechless. He was not expecting that. They drove on, and she laughed, telling him again that she had never stopped to help a man before. How she had forbidden her daughters from stopping to help men while they were alone. She spoke highly of her husband. How he loved to help others. He wondered if she was just talkative or if she was mentioning her family because she was still a bit scared. She called her children to let them know she was going to be later than expected. There was a guardedness in her voice that she tried to hide. She was definitely a little concerned about the decision to help him.
“I just can’t imagine you walking all this way. I’m so glad I stopped.” She said it as they reached some hills. Of course, she had known they were coming. There was nothing in sight for miles. Bob was glad he hadn’t known how far it was.
“I’d still be walking.” He said. “I’d have been walking for days.” He said it more than once. The idea dawning and taking root deeper and deeper each time. “And no one else stopped all day.” He was so very thankful. He hoped she knew it. He wasn’t much for words or expressing emotions.
In Siloam, he called his friend. The friend gave directions. It took a few minutes for them to realize the friend was not in Siloam Springs, but further away in a place called Tontitown or Springdale. He kept saying both. His directions were fuzzy, but he mentioned a gas station and a highway. Bob had no idea where either of those was, but she did. She sighed. She was so very tired. She thought about Bob and how far he’d walked. She agreed to take him on down the road to meet his friend. It was more than he could have hoped for. His gratefulness was genuine. She wondered about the friend. She hoped she wasn’t making a costly mistake. She prayed again and again. In every span of silence, she prayed.
They talked easier now. A friendship forged by darkness and long roads and no radio. The drops of silence became fewer. Still, she talked more than he did. He figured that was probably true of most people. She said it again, that God must have wanted her to help him. She wasn’t trying to push it on him or even get him to believe it. She stated it as fact. It was obvious SHE believed it. Bob wasn’t sure about God, but he’d never met another person like this woman. They talked of politics and children and life. Most of the time she asked gentle questions to keep the conversation going, or made general observations to spark a new topic. Bob wasn’t much of a conversationalist, and he was tired. But he was glad to answer her questions. It was what one might call a pleasant conversation. He hadn’t had many of those lately. Life had not been pleasant in a long time.
They met with the friend who was waiting to meet someone else he owed money to. The friend was on a scooter of some kind. He explained that Bob could not ride on it with him to his house from there, and asked if she’d bring Bob to his house after he paid his friend. In for a penny, in for a pound, right? Bob was apologetic. She put him at ease.
She had felt a disquieting wave of unrest wash over her as soon as she met the friend. That didn’t take any kind of special dispensation of God. The friend was restless and jumpy. His greeting reminded her of a stereotypical used car salesman. Everything about him was insincere. The story was that he was meeting a friend from whom he had borrowed money from. He was going to meet this friend at her work, give her the money he owed and get some computer parts from her. He was supposedly fixing a computer for her. The friend was supposed to be at work at 11.
At 11:15, they were still waiting. She began texting her husband more frequently. She was getting nervous. She prayed even more earnestly in the silences. For her own safety. She did not trust this friend. Bob seemed to sense her thoughts and tried to reassure her that this friend was a great guy. She suspected this friend was not a great guy.
The friend was talkative without saying much. He bragged of being disrespectful of law enforcement and knowing how to push their buttons. He told of stories of mutual harassment. He mentioned offhand that he was a felon. She mentioned offhand that all of her husband’s family was in law enforcement.
She prayed for protection over Bob. Was he leaving one drug-riddled hellhole for another?
Finally, the friend was able to make the exchange and they were ready to begin the next leg of the journey. And again, the story changed. The friend said they were going to a place called Canehill, AR. She mapped it on her phone. She sighed when she looked at the time it would take. Bob apologized again. She smiled a weary smile. She wanted to help him make his new start. He was already a step behind, and how could she leave him there with miles and miles to go?
The friend explained that he was going a different way. “I can’t go on the highway on my scooter,” he said. She offered to follow him.
“I live on a dirt road,” she said. “I know about back roads.”
But of course, that would not do. The friend was afraid he’d go too fast for her and lose her. By this time she knew the friend was trouble. She knew there was no convincing him otherwise. She agreed and they set out. Talking, silence, talking, silence. Perhaps the silence felt deeper this time. They turned off the highway onto smaller and smaller roads. She turned onto a tree-lined road and dipped into a bank of fog. She really hated driving at night. She was out of ideas of things to say and questions to ask. She had been up since 5:30 that morning. She was tired.
“I am sure God wanted me to help you. He wants to bless you today.” She didn’t know why she said it again. Who was she trying to convince? This time Bob said, “I know.” She smiled. The GPS voice broke the silence. Thank God for GPS.
She remembered when they’d just moved and the first time she’d gone to the airport to pick up her husband after he’d been away at work all week. Her phone had lost signal and she had no idea which way to go. She had been so scared driving on unfamiliar roads hoping for a sign to tell her where to go. Being lost is the worst feeling. She clung to her phone and was grateful for every bar of signal. She wondered if she'd be able to keep signal and get them to Canehill. Bob remarked that he had gone completely out of his coverage area. His phone was useless. Perhaps he could sense her thoughts, or perhaps he was just also happy to see each turn illuminated as they made their way deeper into the darkness of the night, careening toward an unknown future.
They arrived before the friend and waited. At 12:19 they called him. He said he had stopped for gas but would be there in 20 minutes. She stayed. At 1:00 they called the friend again. As if to answer, a single headlight appeared. The friend pulled up and began making arrangements for Bob to ride with him on the scooter the rest of the way. Bob turned to the woman and thanked her. She offered him a blanket to keep him warm for the rest of the way. He refused. She wanted to tell him to get back in and make other arrangements. But she didn’t. She turned the Jeep around and reprogrammed the GPS on her phone. “Home” was all she had to say.
“You are on the fastest route.” Came a familiar voice. “ You should reach your destination by 2:05 a.m.”
