I learned Psalm 46:1..45 years ago today.

It was a Friday evening, June 13, and I had a first date with Troy, a boy my parents had not yet met. Mom was cleaning the church, and Dad was still at work at the gas station at 6th and Main. Troy came to pick me up on his motorcycle and we were going to go to eat at Lim’s and then go to a baseball game. Of course, I wasn’t expecting him to arrive on a motorcycle, so I changed from shorts into jeans, and while he waited for me, he picked up Mom and Dad’s Bible that sat on the coffee table and began reading. Before we left the house, he read Psalms 46 and invited me to pray with him. I was 15-year-old mesmerized with this bold, good-looking guy who felt no shame about his faith. We went outside and hopped on his bike, and because I had never ridden on a motorcycle, Troy took me on the back roads of west Hutchinson until I was comfortable with the turns and holding onto his waist, but mostly his shirt, because…first date.

These were the days before mandated helmets, but Troy was careful to not go too fast, and we headed east on 4th street, making our way into town. One block before Main Street, he put his turn signal on to go from the left lane to the right lane, so we could go through the intersection and not be stuck behind the left-turning cars. However, the sun was setting, and the woman who entered the same intersection from the opposite direction didn’t see us in the glare.

I heard Troy yell, “Hang on, we’re gonna crash!”

We did, and hanging on wasn’t possible.

I ended up on the southeast corner sidewalk of 4th & Main, and when I woke up, I saw my dad leaning over me, along with a crowd, and Troy. Dad’s gas station was two blocks away, and it hadn’t taken him long to arrive. My left leg was broken in several places and I had a concussion and fluid coming out of my right ear. Dad rode with me in the ambulance to the local hospital, and later that night, he and Mom followed the transport ambulance to Wichita where they met my sister in the ER.

Our lives were changed in an instant.

We didn’t know that the next two years would include ten surgeries, lots of doctor appointments, an insurance settlement, the loss of most of my hearing in my right ear, and all mixed in with regular teenage drama. He was with me for every surgery. He loved me when I was unlovable. He prayed for me and held me when I was scared. Dad was by my side through it all.

***

Today, I showed Dad the calendar and asked him if he knew the significance of today. And then I lifted my pant leg.

“Ohhhhhh, yeah,” he remembered. We had something new to talk about, more memories that connect and strengthen our bond.

45 years ago today, the Lord was my refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. I really like the way The Message puts it, though. “God is a safe place to hide, ready to help when we need him.”

My dad is a living example of Abba, God the father.

I am so grateful that 45 years later, I can still walk on this permanently scarred leg.

I am so grateful that 45 years later, I can now help Dad walk and return the favor.

I am so grateful that 45 years later, I still know and claim Psalm 46:1.

I am so grateful that 45 years later, I can still say that I am grateful for “the accident.” It changed my life forever.

And I am so grateful that 45 years later, I am privileged to spend time with my Dad.

I was sitting in Dad’s apartment today, cleaning his hearing aids that I found buried in his jacket hanging in the closet. A rerun of a college basketball game was on the TV and Dad had absolutely no interest in it. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him staring at me as I alcohol-swabbed and changed the filters. He wants to be with family, always. It makes life a little more challenging, for sure.

He doesn’t really converse anymore, but he will answer questions with one word or one sentence responses, and it is a struggle to come up with something to talk about, because I am mostly talking to myself. Caregivers of dementia parents, you get me, I know.

Dad has a picture frame that scrolls through downloaded pictures, and as we sat in his room and I desperately looked for anything to talk about, Ginger Ingram and Wonder Dog appeared, a picture my brother had taken in his studio.

“Dad! Remember Wonder Dog?! I was just a-wonderin’? Remember him, Dad?” I proceeded to talk about Ginger and her puppet ministry and the days when she would come visit Mom and Dad and stay the night, and I reminded him of the services she held in the Hutchinson area when we would load my girls up in the car with Grandpa and Grandma and go see Ginger and her puppets.

His eyes lit up a little, and he said, “Oh, kinda…” and chuckled.

The next picture was of Ginger and Lamkins and Linus the Lion.

“Dad! Remember Lamkins?! Remember Linus the Lion? He always said, ‘I ain’t lyin!'” And then I instantly remembered Ginger’s song she always sang with Lamkins, so I sang it to Dad…

“His little lamb I am, His little lamb I am, Jesus loves and cares for me, His little lamb I am.”

I am not sure those words are completely correct, but I sang it like I was sitting on the front row of one of Ginger’s services, mesmerized by her gift of ventriloquism.

“Dad! Do you remember when she would sing that song?”

“Oh…yeah, I do.” And he had a smile on his face that was so very sweet.

***

Those are the moments I need to hang onto.

Tonight, I am grateful for memories that still live in my mind and my heart.

I am grateful for people God placed in our path over the years who made a lasting and eternal connection.

I am grateful Ginger answered the phone today – it was so good to hear her voice and catch up on life.

I am grateful for Ginger, and Lamkins, and Wonder Dog, and Pinky-Poo, and Linus the Lion “I ain’t lyin!”, and Grandpa and the song he sang at Mom’s memorial service, “Grace Loved to Tell the Story…”

And I am grateful my Dad still has some memories that allow us to reminisce.