Mrs. B and Pastor B: The Rest Of The Story

A few days ago I wrote about our next door neighbors Mrs B and Pastor B. They lived next door to us for nine years. Nine years of fresh bread and cookies brought over quickly as long as the dogs were safely in the house. Nine years of hitting the dirt when Mrs B was hunting red squirrels that were raiding bird nests. Nine years of encouraging talks by Pastor B. When he knew that we had a particularly rough Fire and Rescue Call he would say "You did what you could, you can't save them all, some are just bound for heaven."

One cold April night, the pager went off. It was a Rescue call, next door at the B's. We were there within two minutes, Pastor B was sitting on the couch, moaning and making funny sounds. We could get no other response from him. I told him that we were there and everything was going to be OK. Silently I prayed that it would be so. After several minutes he stopped breathing, Far Guy and I moved him to the floor as gently as we could. I inserted an airway and began rescue breathing. Far Guy was monitoring his pulse, when we lost that Far Guy began CPR. More help was arriving, finally the Ambulance crew from Park Rapids arrived. We worked feverishly to keep him alive. At one point one of the guys took Pastor B's very large cross from around his neck and handed it to me. It was still warm, and fit perfectly in my hand. I backed away. Far Guy and the Chief went with the Ambulance to the hospital. I stayed behind to call Pastor F and to lock up the house. I called my parents to accompany me to the hospital, they were good friends with the B's. I held that cross in my hand and prayed non stop all the way to the hospital.

At the ER, things were not looking good. The Doctor's had done what they could (ruptured aortic aneurysm was their diagnosis) and once rescue efforts were discontinued Pastor B would be gone. I found Mrs B in a waiting room and handed her Pastor B's cross, it was still warm from being clutched tightly in my hand. Mrs B had tears in her eyes. The Doctor came in and told her that rescue efforts would be discontinued soon. She would have time for a final goodbye.

Later we drove Mrs B home, we asked her if we could help her call her children. She replied" No, there is no sense in waking them, morning will be soon enough for them to know." She did not want either of us to stay with her, she just wanted to be alone with her grief. The next day she made all of the Funeral arrangements herself, she did not want her children to come until the day before the Funeral.

Far Guy and I tried our best to save Pastor B, Mrs B knew that..she thanked us for being there. I have gone over and over this particular call in my head thousands of times. Should I have done something different? I can truthfully say "No." Do I wish the outcome had been different? Absolutely, Pastor B was a good man, his retired ministry was visiting the infirm and the elderly. God had different plans for him. Pastor B's words would echo through my brain .."Some are just bound for heaven."

Pastor B and Mrs B's children greeted us at the funeral with hugs and many thanks for being there for their Father. Some members of our church were not so gracious. They wondered why we couldn't save him, that's what we were trained to do. We were failures, their church lost a valuable member and it was all our fault.

Mrs B sold her place at the lake, and moved into an apartment in town. We went and had lunch with her on several occasions. She moved closer to her children and then died a few years later. I sent a card to her children, and received a lovely note back from her daughter saying "Thanks for being such good neighbors to my parents."

Mrs B was a strong woman, when it snows and blows at night I often think of her walking in front of their car for two miles on that stormy Christmas Eve, with one hand on the car, helping to guide Pastor B as he drove. How cold it must have been for her, how frightening, yet she put one foot in front of the other to guide them both safely home:)