Every year since 2007, Kris and Amber Kaemmerling have invited me (and various family members along the way) to be their guests at the State Fair of Texas. My math tells me we just completed our 9th year - wow... 9 years... This year, the 6th member of the Schrimsher family made it - for his first time ever. Joel was introduced to crazy Fair traffic (made worse because it was the last day of the year, and the weather was absolutely PERFECT!), Pedro's Tamales, Fletcher's Corndogs, Turkey Legs, homemade turtle fudge and Big Tex (not to mention the new cars on display, and some fancy arts and craft booths). One last attempted stop for a funnel cake for Kristi and me, and we would be done for the year. But, that line included the new "Fried Carrot Cake" and looked to have a 30-40 minute wait. A quick agreement of "nah, we'll get one next year", and we were out of the fairgrounds, and home within 35 minutes. (Which sure beat the 90 minutes it took to get there!) We couldn't have asked for anything more ~ gorgeous weather, good friends, enough food to last the day and fun memories that will last until next year.
While standing on the driveway, saying goodbyes to Tyson and Kristi, and preparing to go to our Care Group gathering at the Chandler's, we heard (what sounded like) yelling coming from a house across the way: probably across the street, unsure of the house direction. Within a few minutes, Sadie appeared on her sidewalk yelling, "I need help, I need help!". I started walking towards her, and she added, "I need a man!". Tyson was now following me in a walk/trot when she added, "Not me, go to the backyard, my husband's trying to.... (then the words I will never forget).... kill himself!". Walk/trot becomes full blown run. Get to the gate, open the latch, run as hard as you can into a yard you have never seen. At the back corner stands a metal storage shed. I turn left, in front of the shed... looking for "something"... Tyson goes straight towards the back of the shed. In what felt like 1000 seconds but was only 3, I am at the back of the storage building from the other side. There he is - laying on his side, with Tyson's hand on his shoulder. Split second determination: he is alive and looks "okay". He is on a cell phone, and crying. He's saying, "I don't know who is here." I say outloud, for him and for the person on the phone, "It's Cindi, from across the street, and this is my son, Tyson.". Roger again says, "I don't know, I don't know" and lifts the phone for someone to take it. In this frozen nanosecond of time, I look at Tyson with the questioning eyes of "WHAT is he using?" Tyson brings his right hand up into view and is holding a loaded .38 revolver.
You remember the frozen in time feel, don't you? The slow motion, brain is not processing what I'm seeing feel. The "Wait, What, Why?" moment.... The what now thought.... The I don't know what to do next thought.... So I take the phone, asking Roger who is this, what is her name...
Hi sister, LaNell, this is Cindi, the neighbor across the street. Yes he is alive, yes we have the gun, yes we will go inside and get the shotgun, yes he is drunk, yes we will get the ammunition, yes we will check on them, here is my name and phone number.... All while I am standing on the side of the shed, fiercely holding on to an uncontrolled, inconsolable Sadie who is asking all the same questions...
Next look up, and Joel and a man I have never seen are standing behind Tyson, who has Roger in a sitting position. Sadie and I go inside to where the guns are kept, collecting everything we can and moving them to the front door. The man I have never seen: A new neighbor (angel): Jay... just moved in the neighborhood - who is a pastor at the local church, who is a NRH police chaplain, who is able to take a hyperventilating, recovering from lung surgery, medically dependent Sadie and calm her down where she can now speak without gasping for air. Tyson has left the .38 on the dining room table, bullets removed. Joel takes the arms back to our house. Tyson is now sitting on the back patio with Roger. Just sitting. Not speaking. I return to Roger. Two NRH police officers arrive casually walking in the backyard, as if they came to hand out a flyer to the Policeman's ball. One asks, "Hello, what's going on here?" Roger responds: "Who are you?" (Remember, he is legally blind, and I tell the officers that.) Tyson feels his job is complete and returns to our house. The officers identify themselves and the next hour to 90 minutes are spent assessing, asking, providing support to the family.
At the end of the officers' time at the house, they have determined that things have de-escalated enough that there is no longer a threat. Oh, I asked if I should stay longer, if I should stay the night. They assured me it would be okay. Okay... that definition is wide, isn't it? Okay - by what standard? Okay - For how long? Okay - In who's eyes? But we leave them there, to begin the healing. We go our ways, to begin our healing. There will never be a question that we were involved in a miracle. Remember - the long line for the funnel cake? Remember - the ease of getting home without traffic? Remember - we were outside talking, not inside? Remember - the new neighbor who moved in and is a pastor and police chaplain? I remember. I always will. It did not take long to see the providence of God in that afternoon. It still reminds me that He is here, He is in control, and He loves his people and will use anyone at any time to remind them/us of that love.
Yes, there were tears that night. Once during the ordeal, in one trip back and forth to our driveway, I saw our neighbor, Terry, and just seeing her face, her concern, her love: brought a handful. After an hour or so with our Care Group (yes, we went - it was the best thing to get out of the house and the police encouraged us to leave), and after finally settling enough to get into bed about midnight, many tears fell. Tears for everything: For the family across the street, for the neighborhood who knows and loves them and saw the 3 police units parked outside. For the brokenness of that couple and their fear of being alone. For my son, and what he witnessed first hand, and did to prevent something from happening. For his wife, who feared for her husband's safety, and made the call to 9-1-1 for help. For all of us, who live in this broken world - who long for people that have seen the joys of heaven and are not bound to the miseries of humanity. I missed my mom fiercely that night. It was one time where the overwhelming feeling of being alone hit, and hit hard. I longed for Cassidy - to just be able to see her and hold her - to know her world was good. But in the midst of some of those tears, was also praise for the life of Roger - that he still has a life. And thankfulness for all of the orchestration from heaven that allowed Roger to still be with us.
