Almost Heaven (43 page)

33

My feeling was that the reunion would be the high point and everything would be downhill from there. Something else would happen financially or the bank would cancel our mortgage and we'd lose the station or some other such thing. It almost felt like anytime there was good news, an attack of some sort was on its way. I don't mean to see a demon behind every rhododendron, but sometimes it can just feel like the world is against you.

But things didn't fall apart. I kept going each day, playing music and talking and working through the flu season. Callie went to counseling, stayed busy at the post office, and continued to improve.

Every Thursday night was like a breath of fresh air with Natalie, and every month we got the boys together. Pretty soon we had interest in people coming to see us live. Some didn't believe we had no practices, but when you've played these songs all your life, they're just part of you. Basically all you need to know is what key you're playing in and you're set.

We held the first public concert in the fellowship hall at Dogwood First Baptist. It's the only Baptist church in town, but I guess they called it that to make sure everybody knew they had the idea. I had to work through the phone company to get us a hookup for the live broadcast and that cost some money, but the pastor of the church and a couple of business owners in town who worshiped there decided to foot the bill.

We didn't charge any admission, but we did leave a bucket in the back for people to drop in a station donation if they wanted. There were probably fifty people at the first performance, and Natalie did even better in front of people than she did in the studio. She was a regular pro on that microphone, and she quickly learned how to talk to the people and get them to respond. It was like watching fireworks go off every time she came onstage. Jimmy brought all the equipment we needed, and I had Callie return to the station and switch to the recorded music when everything was over.

The crowds grew steadily with each concert until we filled the fellowship hall and had to move into the main sanctuary. The Internet hit count went through the roof. I wasn't sure what that meant, but I just kept doing what I felt like God had called me to do. It wasn't the Grand Ole Opry, but it was close enough.

* * *

One of the best days of the year was when Sheriff Preston came by the house.

“I've been listening to your station anytime I'm in range, Billy. I love the music. It speaks to my heart like few things do these days with everything going on in the world.”

“I hear that from people,” I said.

“Well, my wife said I ought to tell you. It was all she could do to keep from running over here last Sunday herself.”

“What happened?”

“I'm in.”

“Excuse me?”

“I'm in with both feet. Just shows that the prayers of a good woman will go a long way.”

I smiled. “I'm really glad to hear it, Sheriff. I don't think you're going to regret it.”

“No, don't expect I will. I'll probably regret waiting this long.”

“He understands,” I said. “And I'll bet there was some celebration on your behalf when you finally came to your senses.”

“You really think there are such things as angels, Billy?”

“I know there are, Sheriff. I have personal experience.”

“Well, I thank you for the part you played. I've watched you through the years. I want something genuine like you have. Now I think I've got it.”

“One thing about that, Sheriff: once you get it, don't hoard it. It'll spoil if you don't give it away.”

* * *

Living and dying and everything in between. That's what the music is about. Faith, hope, and love. The glass seems to be growing darker every day. I try to make sense of the world and it just doesn't. All of the pain and the hurt and the leaving and crying and bloodshed.

I still believe in hidden songs that run through us. And I believe the pain has made them more rich and full. I've felt the songs overrun the banks of my life with equal amounts of joy and sorrow. I don't know why all these things happened to me, and I sure don't know what's planned for the future. But I know a few things for sure. One of them is that there is a fountain supplying the waters that both quench our thirst and flood our lives.

I also know that the love of a good woman is a treasure to the heart of a lonely man. And the love of God will change you, if you let it, no matter who you are and what you've done. God cares for us too much to leave us the way we are. He hounds and pokes and prods until we see the truth, and I have loved and hated him for it.

Sometimes in the still of the night, when the train whistle sounds, I sit up in bed and listen for something. A voice. A whisper. Something happened to me back in Buffalo Creek the morning of that flood. My life was preserved for a reason. Was it so I could save Callie? Was it so I could meet Natalie and help her find her way? Was it because of the people who have been touched by the radio station?

I'm not sure if it's one or all of the above. Perhaps God will do something else down the road, though I'm not sure how long of a road I have to travel. But I have come to the point where I don't need to know. That's the best part of my story. I just plain don't need to know.

34

I will not divulge secrets of hidden things. I have told you that. And I have endeavored to keep hidden those things that must not be revealed to the earthbound. In a little while you will see fully, but not yet. So I will not divulge the method by which I was extricated from that unholy assembly of malevolent forces who entrapped me, but suffice it to say, the very height of heaven was not ashamed to come to my aid. We rejoiced at the victory, but heaven fell silent with the death of Clay. And not long after, I was given a new assignment and the orders to leave my friend Billy Allman.

I will not say whether angels weep at such partings. However, if we rejoice and sing for gladness, it follows that we can experience the opposite emotion. There was at least a bit of melancholy leaving him, for I knew there would be hardship ahead.

To live earthbound means there are many questions. For one moment I was able to think as they do, wondering about Billy's future. Would he and Callie have a long life together? Would his diabetes cause irreversible health complications? Would the station continue and grow, or would it—like many things of earth—fade, dim, and wither?

Grappling with life and its many decisions takes the heart of a warrior. After my close encounter with the enemy of men's souls, I see that anew and I am more sure than ever that there is only One who can be trusted with every question mark. As many on earth have found, to cast oneself on the sure mercy and love of the Creator is not an act of blind faith, but a daily act of contrition. For my questions are never answered with an explanation other than the twin beams of wood known as a cross. If I can live with that great question mark of history, I can live each day with the questions that arise from Billy's life and my own.

Still, I lament that I am not allowed to stay longer. I wanted to be present at his last moments, to usher him into the presence of the One he served faithfully. But I know that Billy and Callie and the others will be in the care and protection of the One they serve. As David so aptly wrote, “The Lord directs the steps of the godly. He delights in every detail of their lives. Though they stumble, they will never fall, for the Lord holds them by the hand.”

I serve this God of details. This God of commas and exclamation points. A God of questions. It is this God who calls me to another assignment. And though I serve in obedience and seek at each moment to follow the directives of the One who is without compare, it is now not simply a matter of answering a call or following orders. I now live and move and have my being in the fathomless reaches of His mercy and grace, which I do not hope to comprehend, but which I am fully aware exist. I have seen it at work.

What I have witnessed in the life of Billy Allman is a humility unmatched. With all of the pushing and shoving to get to the place of honor at life's table, to see a man so connected to his work and to the Almighty is a wondrous thing. And yet the man has flaws. He is not a saint.

Some believe God chooses the best people to follow Him, ones with fewest flaws, who can do wondrous things for Him. But I have seen the truth of the words written long ago fulfilled. In this case, God did not choose the most wise or powerful or wealthy. Instead, He chose a person the world considered foolish in order to shame those who think they are wise. And He chose the powerless and despised, a person counted as nothing, and used him again and again.

Oh, the beauty of this God who not only fashions the world and makes humans in His own image, but also can take the ashes of their lives and turn them into love. I praise both now and forevermore a God who takes delight in the praise of the least of these and who uses brokenness so that others may see true wholeness. I will forever be mystified by the love of God for sinful creatures that takes them from bondage to freedom and asks nothing more than for them to become sons and daughters of the true King.

I do not know what it is like to have a soul. I will never experience that. I do not understand what it is like to be time-bound and unable to see the truth of eternity with my own eyes. But as I rose above those trees, now bursting with color, away from the world of floods and tears, I understood better what humans feel as they breathe. For every breath they take, and every note of every song they sing from their hearts, originates not deep within, but deep in Him.

Afterword

Good stories come from real people and real life. There is no fiction well, only people's lives. Since I was young and before I had any good sense to know better, I have dreamed of owning and running my own radio station. I had the spot picked out on the hill where I grew up, in those West Virginia hills. On the other knoll I would build a house.

In January 2009, I received an e-mail from Carmeleta Randolph. She listened to my radio program over station WOTR. The station owner/operator had died the day before, and she wrote to tell me about him. Here is a bit of that e-mail:

Dear Chris,

I have listened to your program for some time now on WOTR 96.3 out of Lost Creek, West Virginia. Yesterday the owner/operator of WOTR, James William “Billy” Allman, went home to heaven to be with his Lord. Billy was a unique and extremely kind man and a very close friend to me and my husband. (We considered him family.) He was a good neighbor. He spent his entire life as a servant to Jesus and he did it well. Billy was diabetic and had not been well at all for years, but he pushed on every day to send out the gospel over the airwaves. He was a genius, truly. At the age of five or six years, he built a weed eater out of a kitchen mixer and the beaters! He built an amplifier when he was twelve for his father, who did some auctioneering.

Billy was somebody that I can look at and say that I know without a doubt he worshiped God every day. People look at worship and think worship is singing, but worship is honoring who or what you're living for. He honored God with every decision he made. Jesus Christ was truly his Lord.

He must have had a vision for radio since he was a young boy. I didn't know him then, but my husband did. They lived up a little hollow here. My husband said he would even put speakers outside and he would rig up all these electronics and he would broadcast radio down the hollow so everyone could hear.

There wasn't a lot of support for WOTR, not a lot of people who wanted commercials on a Christian station. It's a very small community. And it's a small station. So he would trade airtime for his services. If he needed work on his car, he would trade airtime, or dinner at a restaurant for commercials. He lived at the station. He put his whole life into it. I keep thinking of the Scripture that God would continue the good work that he started in you. I don't know what will happen, but I keep praying God will do what he wants to do there.