Every Parent's Nightmare

Bobbie was young and beautiful and full of promise. From all appearances, she was the last child who would bring her parents grief.

She was active in her church in O'Donnell, Texas.

At 14, she could claim a long list of social and scholastic achievements: Bobbie was involved in Cheerleading, Band, UIL (University Interscholastic League) Science Fair, One Act Play, and Girl Scouts.

The future seem to be promising and smooth sailing…if she could just navigate the pitfalls of her adolescent years.

But Bobbie had a secret. Perhaps it was the first time,…or the last of many times…but at fourteen she was getting and consuming alcohol from some adult.

Teen drinking is not only illegal, but for Bobbie it would be lethal and she would be responsible for the death of a fourteen-year-old friend, as well as seriously injuring seven others all under the age of 18.

In what can best be described as every parent's worst nightmare,… one boy of unknown age,.. one girl of 13,.. two girls age 14,.. one boy age 15,.. one girl 15,.. one boy 17,.. and one boy age 18 where joy riding in the 2008 Toyota pickup 14 year-old Bobbie was driving Saturday night at 2:30 in the morning. According to Department of Public Safety officials (Texas State Troopers), Bobbie had been drinking prior to driving at a high rate of speed on a road north of O'Donnell. The vehicle hit a ditch, went into a slide, then rolled three and a quarter times, coming to a rest on the passenger side door. Most of the teenagers were riding in the bed of the pickup, none wearing seatbelts or restrains.

As a Texas parent, it would be easy to finger point and blame;

Why were you allowing your 13, 14, 15 year-old age kids out at that time of night?

Why was an under-aged driver at the wheel of that vehicle?

Who gave those minors the alcohol?

Was there no parent who was curious enough to know what their children were doing that late at night?

At the same time, I am the parent of a 17 year old who will do ANYTHING to declare his independence. The "Truth" at our house is often a cat and mouse game between parent and child with God providing evidence and conviction when his mother and I can't be there.

Except for God's grace, my son could have been in the back of that pickup. Some of his friends have been involved in similar stupidity!

I never met Bobbie or any of her companions from that accident. I doubt her family will ever read these words. But as a life spectator and fellow parent, I share their anguish having lost a brother years ago in a roll-over accident before he could graduate high school.

I encourage parents...you are first a parent to your child,...secondly a friend. Don't let their begging wear you down. Want to know where they are going, who they are with, and to call when they change places and plans. That's why you provide them with that cell phone…..NOT FOR TEXT THEIR FRIENDS.

This incident strengthens my resolve to be involved. I will not be put off by the "invasion of my privacy" or "none of your business" argument. Love and parenting makes it my business.

Second, providing alcohol to minors is no joke,.. it is NOT a rite-of-passage we should wink at just because we may have done it. Alcohol and gasoline doesn't mix… especially when combined with raging hormones.

Mothers Against Drunk Driving are an excellent organization, but they haven't done enough. Several years ago, there was legal precedent set in England where pub owners and severs were libel for accidents and crimes their clients committed when intoxicated. If only that kind of legislation were passed in this country. But alas, how many local, state and federal legislators have the backbone for such a stance against the alcohol industry lobby. Most seem afraid their favorite bartenders and saloon owners would go to prison on their behest.

If the person who provided Bobbi with the alcohol was charged and convicted with involuntary manslaughter for this horrific tragedy, it might not bring back Bobby or the 14-year-old girl who died with her, but it would send a powerful message to those cavalier for sharing or selling alcohol to minors.

For the families of those eight youth involved accident north of O'Donnell, Texas, the "whys" and "what did we wrong" are too late.

Two families are mourning. Two crosses will be erected in the roadside ditch to remind others of this tragic accident.

Six young people will carry physical and mental scars of how a night of "just hangin' out" went wrong.

Mother's Day and Sponge Bob

Take rush hour in Dallas, . . . on a holiday, . . . add an accident in the west-bound 4-lanes of Interstate 20, . . . traffic moving at 2.34 MPH, . . . a blown-out radiator . . . at 6:00 PM on Sunday afternoon . . . And what do you have?

Frustration? . . . Goes without saying.

Humidity? . . . What else do you expect in Dallas at 85 degrees.

Road help? . . . Not much now days once fellow-drivers see you checking the bars on your cell phone.

Repair Shop? . . . Don't even think about it until 8:00 AM Monday morning.

However, this was not a true representation of our four-day, Mother's Day weekend. We did spend quality time with my oldest son and daughter-in-law in the quaint town of Winnsboro, Texas.

Jon and Katie were finishing up their final performance for the Mossula Children Theater before regrouping and heading off for a summer tour of Germany and Turkey. We enjoyed lots of laughter and bad jokes, watching them spin their magic with the youth in this small Texas town of 3,500.

After an extended lunch at Cracker Barrel, we parted ways, not looking forward to the five-and-a-half hour return trip to Colorado City. The boys were in the back seat, mesmerized by their I-pods and CD players. I had successfully run the gauntlet of downtown Dallas, smugly aware of no mistakes which would have diverted us to the town of "Frontage Road."

Abruptly the traffic came to a halt; A fender-bender five miles ahead foiling our escape attempt from the metroplex. My attention shifted from avoiding someones bumper at 70 MPH to lane-switching, like a desperate shopper jockeying for the fastest moving checkout in a Super Wal-Mart.

Topping the next overpass, I could almost see what was bringing westbound Texans to a creep. Suddenly the sound which strikes fear in the heart of even the most experienced motorist.

BOOM! . . . HISS! . . . Steam billowing around the cracks of the hood like some Old Testament sacrifice before the Tabernacle in the Wilderness. The hose had not just blown off the radiator, but part of the radiator was blown away, parts of it still attached to the dangling hose.

Okay, . . . figure out what exit you are closest to. . . .

Call AAA, . . . knowing a tow-truck is going to creep through the same traffic nightmare you've been delivered from. . . .

Endure the sympathetic stares of fellow-drivers, thanking the gods that it happened to you and not them.

Our teenagers . . . now out of their music-induced comas . . . stand staring at the engine, offering their expert advice. The 19-year-old, an auto tech student, is convinced he could fix it "in no time" if we only carried a spare radiator in the trunk at all times. Of course, in his birth-county of Russia, it is common practice to pull over to the side of the road and repair your own car.

Never to be out done, my wife came up with a festive way to pass the hour+ wait on the wrecker. She had me stand at the rear of the car, . . . facing on coming traffic, . . . wearing my bright yellow Sponge Bob T-shirt, . . . as she held up a yellow legal pad with "Happy Mother's Day" emblazoned in large black letters.

The response of aggravated drivers was amazing. Once I got over my anxiety of feeling totally stupid, I enjoyed the smiles, thumbs-up, and honks of the motorists creeping by. Some signaled their mothers were in the car with them. Grandmothers of all ethnicity mouthed "God Bless You." Cameras protruded from rolled down windows. Even macho young men gestured they were speaking to their moms on their cell phones.

Eventually our teen boys (huddled in front of our car from parental-embarrassment) peered out and joined the festivities by getting semis' to honk their horns.

Eighteen hours later, we were back on the road, venturing home to our 6 cats. This was a Mother's Day not soon forgotten by the Brantleys. And when friends ask my wife what she got for Mother's Day 2007, she smiles and asks, . . .

"I got a tow-truck and new radiator . . . What did you get?"

Smack Dab In the Middle

I don't really on consider myself a "control freak." I pretty much allow the people I work and worship with to be themselves. I can't really change the way family members relate and respond to each other.

And yet, I like to think that I'm "in control;" that I have some sort of say-so in my life. That changed a few days ago; not only was I NOT in control, but I had to turn my life over to others.

Country music artist Carrie Underwood sings it so well on her Some Hearts album.

She didn't even have time to cry
She was sooo scared
She threw her hands up in the air
Jesus take the wheel
Take it from my hands
Cause I can't do this all on my own
I'm letting go...
Jesus take the wheel.

From the moment my car started to fishtail, I knew I was not in control.

When the car began to roll and the sound of twisting metal pounding the roadway filled my ears, I knew I was not in control.

Sitting in the bone chilling cold, waiting for help to arrive, I knew I was not in control.

In a matter of seconds, control of my life had shifted to others:

The five "angels" -- young men who stopped to be with me until EMTs arrived.

The paramedics who made sure I was stable until I reached the hospital.

The emergency room staff, who worked efficiently but with sensitivity to my trauma.

The ER doctor who made it a point to comfort my family and point out another medical concern not related to the accident.

My family who has waited on me hand and foot while enduring my complaints about slow healing injuries.

I pride myself at being a low maintenance, self-sufficient person. Losing control of your everyday life is a humbling experience. It’s normal to wonder where is God in all of this. Maybe the operative word is "pride". . . Or perhaps "self-sufficiency."

I recently read about Frank Silecchia, one of volunteers searching the wreckage of the World Trade Center for survivors. This particular morning he hoped would be different; past days had yielded forty-seven victims, none of them alive.

However he would stumble upon a symbol destined to be seared into America's memory--a twenty-foot tall steel-beam cross. The collapse of Tower One on Building Six merged to gigantic beams. When one crashed into the another, the two girders bonded into one, forged by fire. Other crosses rested randomly at the base of large one; different sizes, different angles, but all crosses.


As a stunned America struggled with "Where is God in all of this?," the beams emerged from the rubble to say "I am right here in the middle of it all."

Could God have prevented 911 from occurring? Absolutely! But since World War, Americans have been pretty cocky and believe we are in control of our own destiny.

Could God have kept my car from rolling? Absolutely! But I am re-learning the lesson of dependency on Him and the people He has placed in my life.

As I stumble through the rubble of mistakes and misfortunes in my life, I am reminded that He is smack-dab in the middle of who I am, what I am, and where I am going.

Admitting I'm not in control is not such a scary thing after all.

In A Moment, Blink of An Eye

In an Instant, In the Blink of an Eye

It can happen in an instant, . . . In the blink of an eye, . . . And life can take an unexpected turn.

Some people are said to live lives of quiet desperation. Not me. One good gust of wind and I am reminded how much I am loved and love those around me, even total strangers.

I was driving home from an assignment with Whirlwind Tours in Midland, Texas. It was 2:30 AM and I was eastbound on I-20. The roadway had just begun to ice from the cold front that swept through the area.

Suddenly a blast of wind hit the driver's side of my Bronco, causing it to fish-tail. I corrected, but it wasn't enough and after it crossed and recrossed the inside lane I knew it was going to roll.

Roller coasters and thrill rides have never been enjoyable to me. I have no curiosity strong enough for me to keep my eyes open. I prayed, a very simple prayer, "Oh, Jesus help me, help me."

And He did! I can't tell you whether it rolled two or three times, but it stopped upright in the center median. The passenger window was gone, the rear hatch back torn off. The driver's seat was broken but I was firmly held by seat belt. And the dome light was on.

Five wonderful young men stopped to help me. The things inside by car had been thrown completely clear of the vehicle. Clothing, tool box, travel bags, even my computer had become projectiles leaving a flipping ship.

Amazingly I never hit my head or lost consciousness. I was lucid and clear-headed if not a little addled.

Arriving at Scenic Mountain Medical Center I was x-rayed head-to-toe, with special attention paid to my left elbow, forearm and wrist which had begun throb with pain. Nothing came back fractured. It is thought that a nerve in my elbow has been bruised and will take some time to heal. With a shoulder sling, I was sent home and told to wait till the soreness subsides before going back to work.

This "unexpected vacation" from my normal activities has caused me to appreciate the people in my life. Not just family who are here by my side, but all who have written and called to express their concern and love.

In the vast scheme of things, this accident will probably be just a blip on the radar of life, but it is a reminder that a detour can happen in a moment, in a blink of the eye. It's good to know I'm not alone; That there are "angels" of all kinds, dressed as family, paramedics, policemen and hospital worker. How very blessed I am.