Sheri and me

"Thanks, but I don't feel up to it."

That was me, when Sheri called to see if I would be meeting her at the Embers for drinks and dancing.  She was having none of it.  "No, you're coming. There's someone I want you to meet.  He's looking for a secretary."

As it turned out, the proposed salary was laughable.  But our attraction, instantaneous.  Two years later we married.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

👩🏼‍🤝‍👩🏼

I first met Sheri at a sorority barbeque.  Everyone was attracted to the charismatic young widow.  Maybe because I was newly single and our little sons were the same age, our friendship took off.   Because she was beautiful and connected, I probably hoped some of the 'it' factor might rub off on me. (LOL)

How she'd get us onto Dyess AFB with barely a wink at the gate, I've no idea.  Yet, each Friday night we'd waltz into the 'O' Club for their shrimp peel just like we belonged.

We used to dream of visiting Jamaica, then kept tabling the idea.

I refused to fly.  Sheri was terrified of being on an ocean liner -- convinced that in a previous life she had perished in a calamity not unlike the Titanic.

{{Ready for this?

I've since learned she worked as a dancer on several cruise ships for 2+ years!}}

In a rare display of restraint, during our conversation I didn't bring up the subject of her last husband.

About the same time as R. and I were preparing to marry, she fell in love with Richard who swept her away to Atlanta. 

There was a card at Christmas, then nothing.

Rumor has it, Richard was wildly jealous and forced her to abandon her friends, destroy photos, etc.  It was a couple years before she and the children escaped his nut house.

Anyway!

Perhaps the biggest surprise of this tele-reunion was when Sheri asked, "Where are you with the Lord?"

I didn't shy from her question, but suspect she was looking for an opportunity to share her own experience.

In 2004 -- following a speech she'd just made on behalf of M.A.D.D. -- her vehicle was struck head-on by a drunk driver.  Critically wounded, she was unable to speak -- but vividly recalls seeing the uniformed arm of a firefighter working to free her ... her son watching and crying ... then her deceased husband.  The love of her life who was killed by a drunk driver while she was pregnant with their son.

While being loaded into the chopper, she asked, "Where is the boy?  You know the one with copper-colored curls?"

"Ma'am there was no boy there."

I can't think of the exact term, but Sheri died that night in the trauma unit.

Continuing, "I know it sounds like a cliche, but I remember being above and watching this young red-headed doctor working to stop the bleeding."

It was 'beautiful', but no.  No bright light at the end of the tunnel.

Instead, she kept wanting to run to Lewis, to hug him.  But he said, "No. You can't."

"Who are all those people behind you?"

"You'll find out someday."

Because of that, Sheri says she no longer fears death.

Even 2 years ago when, at age 74 she suffered a massive heart attack.

She begged God, "Please let me have 10 more years.  I want to see my gr-granddaughter grow up."

The cardiac surgeon who agreed to perform surgery wasn't known for his bedside manner: "I've done 3 of these procedures. 2 died; one didn't.  Let me know your decision."

She had the surgery -- and the following day when he walked in her room, the first thing he said, "I just gave you 10 years."

Tell me God's not still in the business of miracles.

💛

Hugs, Myra