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Parking in the Woods

This is a hidden gem from our first book,  Stories from the Creekbank.

Enjoy!

Stories from the Creekbank, Cover

Mrs. Helen

Every season at Dry Creek is beautiful in its own way. The winter months are no exception. Winter group campfires are my favorite event at the prayer garden. My favorite campfire story is about a lady called Mrs. Helen.

Mrs. Helen came with a Sulphur Ladies group several winters ago. I immediately liked her. Her bright eyes and great attitude did not show her 83 years of age. As their group went to the Prayer Garden late Friday night, she stated that she could not make the walk down the trail in the dark. I quickly volunteered to transport her in my truck through the backwoods road.

These ladies had a wonderful time at the Prayer Garden! As they sang to the accompaniment of a guitar, the music echoed throughout the pines. The fire crackled as testimonies brought forth both laughter and tears. For nearly two hours these ladies had wonderful fellowship out in the beauty of God’s handiwork.

As the fire died out, the ladies reluctantly headed back up the hill towards the Adult Center. As Mrs. Helen and I drove back through the woods, she excitedly shared about what a wonderful time they’d had. It was at that moment when I drove off in a mud hole and the truck became stuck. Try as I might, I only succeeded in getting really stuck.

So here we were…ten-thirty at night…stuck in Bundick Creek swamp. Finally, I told Mrs. Helen, “I’m sorry to have to leave you, but I’ve got to go get help and the tractor.” My new friend sweetly replied, “Sonny, don’t worry about me… I won’t be alone. God is right here with me.”

Well, I returned as quickly as I could. There was Mrs. Helen sitting peacefully in the truck. She said, “The Lord and I just had a wonderful time of fellowship.” We pulled the truck out and were on our way. When we finally drove up to the Adult Center, it had been over thirty minutes since the other ladies had returned.

All 39 of them were standing outside in concern for the whereabouts of their oldest member. As I sheepishly began to explain to the leader of our predicament, Mrs. Helen, this sweet 83-year-old saint, blurted out, “Oh don’t worry about us—we were just parking in the woods.” I could feel my face (and bald head) turn red as they all roared with laughter!

As they say, “All’s well that ends well.” I’ll never forget my encounter with a special lady called Mrs. Helen.

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About Curt Iles

I write to have influence and impact through well-told stories of my Louisiana and African sojourn.

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