God's Vehicle

By Mel McNeal

Ben Barton is a young, nature-loving physician who uses Scriptures as well as medicine to heal individuals. In building a successful medical practice, Ben's focus fades from the Lord, so when a friend warns him of an imminent disaster, Ben's not sure he will survive. An international terrorist plot has snared the unknowing Ben and now threatens the United States with unparalleled devastation.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Covenant Books, Inc.
• Release date: Aug 13, 2020
• ISBN: 9781646707034

Book preview

Foreword

The Lord will walk with you through the storms of life, giving you peace and joy even in total chaos if you will only believe in him. His love is unconditional, and in spite of past events, Christ will accept you as you are, forgiving and forgetting, and will welcome you into his kingdom forever. You are so valuable to God he sent his son to die for your sins, and he has an important plan for your life. The gifts and talents you possess are given for you to use to display to the world the power and glory of God; to waste them would be a tragedy. The characters and events in this book are fictional, but the messages are real. Please read them not only with your eyes but also with your heart and discover the love of Christ.

Thankfulness

Everything seems normal this morning; the brilliant sun streaming through the smudged window panes inspiring the tiny potted plants on the window sill to emerge into the world; the smell of Doug’s overuse of Old English aftershave; and Gloria dreaming of winning the record Powerball jackpot and spending her summer on an Italian beach. The July air has a paltry breeze clearing the morning mist from the small pond across the lush fescue meadow down the hill. Bubble bees buzz though the fields of alfalfa like teenagers dancing at a rock concert. Every sunrise is a miracle to me as God provides me another day to be a better Christian than the day before. As Christians go, I’m far from a saint; however, I do love God and try to be the best person I can be. Today’s sunrise is especially beautiful as the sunbeams spray down their glory on the patchwork of fields, restoring life to the awaking earth once again. This particular morning I watch a brilliantly colored monarch butterfly doing his fluttering ballet so predatory birds cannot predict his flight pattern, as he dances among the milkweed plants. Then, as quickly as he arrives, he continues his journey toward South America.

Upon entering our humble clinic, the new skylight greets patients with an illuminated pathway to our receptionist, Gloria—a hardworking, pleasant, forty-five-year-old whose love of butterflies is evident by sculptures and wallpaper throughout our clinic. To the right of Gloria’s domain is a small drab supply closet where our cleaning supplies and various inventories are kept. Hanging high on the wall is a large sunburst clock you can see from half a block away. Opposite that is our unpretentious staff lounge area with a large stainless steel coffee maker, an absolutely packed refrigerator, small microwave, and three bay windows across the back, holding numerous small plants. The outside door opens on to a semi-enclosed patio hiding Doug’s famous big green egg knockoff, and a bicycle I used to ride when I had time. I enjoy my early morning moments of solitude and my life-sustaining cup of black coffee, thankful for my blessings. My tall coffee cup has a caduceus in gold accent on a field of black, last year’s Christmas present from my newest friend, Laura, an attractive veterinarian down the street. To the left our welcoming reception area are two smaller appointment rooms, a bathroom, and around the corner is our larger treatment area where we spend the majority of our time. Numerous medications are kept in this area as well. My rather tiny office is in the very back with a very small window.

In my small, yet growing, general medicine clinic of two years, we serve the surrounding communities in rural Missouri, consisting mainly of generational farmers and ranchers, whose families have groomed their land and operations to be some of the most productive in the Midwest. Wedged between Whiteman Air Force Base, to the north, and Fort Leonard Wood Army Base, to the east, we see all demographics ailing from various misfortunes needing our care. Hardworking with a sense of community, people aid each other during hard times and celebrate together the bounty God provides during the bumper years. I feel very comfortable in this community with its Bible Belt values and dramatic seasonal weather changes.

While insulated from both coasts, Whiteman Air Force Base has been a tactical link for the Strategic Air Command (SAC) System out of Omaha, Nebraska, for many years. In the past, it controlled a matrix of intercontinental ballistic missiles and their respective Launch Control Facilities. George A. Whiteman, a young Sedalia native who died at Pearl Harbor, is the namesake of this base; the current home of the B-2 bomber. This legendary stealth bomber’s reputation strikes fear in every enemy’s heart for being one of the most combat-capable aircraft ever built.

The Army base, Fort Leonard Wood, is named after a former Chief of Staff Leonard Wood; its massive facility provides schools for engineering, chemical weaponry, and military police for our nation, making it an extremely secure facility. To be proactive and not reactive, our military must be on the cutting edge of technology and research of chemical and biological weapons. Due to the massive causality potential, military forces are ready to respond immediately to any threat to our freedoms, foreign or domestic.

Jolting me back to reality is the screaming of an ambulance siren, announcing the arrival of a seven-year-old little girl whose bicycle was hit by a car.

A big black car with dark windows ran over me, she explains in between gasp for air and crying. Her pretty light blue dress with ruffles and white lace trim is streaked with blood; her left arm shows deformed carpus indicating a traumatic injury.

Help me, help me! It hurts! she cries with tears flowing down her face.

This traumatic injury will require more advanced technology and expertise than what we have, so I nod to Gloria, who immediately calls the hospital twenty miles away, to arrange for a helicopter transport. I stop the bleeding and calm both her and her frenzy mother’s emotions to a dull roar. Afterward, my detailed report is given to Gene, our sheriff, a veteran himself, and a description of the car is sent out throughout the county and state in hopes the driver can quickly be found. This is unusual for our town, and I’m deeply troubled about this incident, and as the day goes on, I think about it often. It’s not like the local residence to behave like this. Everyone living here would stop and help someone if they were involved in an accident. Maybe the outside world with its undesirable elements is encroaching more and more on our little town of Covey.

Later that day, my workload declines enough to return Laura’s phone call about lunch. I think certain times on the clock are magical. When numbers on our digital clocks are in sequence like 1:23 or in groups, like 2:22, it seems like God is telling me that something important is happening somewhere on the earth. It makes me smile wondering what I’m missing. Our main street is sloped; having the Downtown Diner, an antique store, drugstore, Deanna’s hair salon, and Stan’s Auto Shop line our laidback business area. City Council voted to have diagonal parking last year, making a few ole timers irate, but they were never very good at parallel parking anyway, so I can’t see what all the fuss was about. My clinic is at the top of the street facing east, overlooking the picturesque scene of a Norman Rockwell, rural countryside.

Like me, Laura recently opened her veterinarian office, just two blocks down the hill. We sometimes discuss interesting cases since many animal diseases affect humans. This is called zoonosis. One of Laura’s passions is being on the DVET Team (Disaster Veterinarian Team). As a member of the Federal Veterinarian Team, she responds to disasters within US held territories. During a disaster there are myriad displaced animals needing care; veterinarians are responsible to see these various animals are treated humanely until ownership can be reestablished. President Obama did authorize the Federal Disaster Team to help with Haiti’s 7.0 earthquakes several years ago; Laura’s first experience being abroad was with this elite team.

Hurricane Katrina was also a historic event for both her and America. While Laura’s Disaster Team was preparing for deployment from Whiteman Air Force Base, everyone had their packs in a huge communal pile on the tarmac for inspection. Several armed security guards and drug-sniffing dogs were inspecting their gear before being loaded onto an aircraft, when a dog halted at Laura’s pack. Guns were lifted at the ready, and in dismantling her pack, it was found that she had brought dog treats with her for the Urban Search and Rescue dogs. Tensions eased and laughter broke out. This shows just how serious our nation’s defense is taken by our dedicated Armed Service personnel and their faithful canines.

During her deployment, an elderly man was bitten in the face by a deadly eastern diamondback rattle snake while desperately trying to dig his family out from under a huge amount of rubble left by hurricane Katrina. She tried to have him quickly identify the snake so the appropriate antivenom could be administered. Unfortunately, despite twenty-four units of CroFab being given, he did not survive. Memories of this horrible event haunted her for several months.

Laura receives great satisfaction helping people and animals when they are the most vulnerable and need help. Laura is a very nice, five foot two, single woman with long golden blond hair, and a dazzling smile that lights up the room, a cute little nose, blue eyes like deep pools, a small athletic frame, and a sophisticated personality, which can be challenging at times. Her confidence is based on her Christian faith. Laura’s integrity and independence give her a strong sense of both who she is and what she believes in. Both of her parents loved animals and had a small farm in central Ohio before they passed away. Laura then sold the family farm and through scholarships and the profit from the farm sale, attended Missouri University in Columbia, MO, in their veterinarian program, before relocating to Covey, MO, to open her animal clinic. I think her Christian parents would be very proud of the choices she’s made and the strong woman she has become. Any man would be honored and envied having such a wonderful woman in his life.

Questions

Usually the breeze comes out of the west, gently persuading the lofty marshmallow clouds to the east except when low pressure fronts hurl more stormy weather into the area, and then the eastward winds prevail. Today the sun’s warm glow and the thought of having lunch with Laura make my day pretty much perfect.

Everyone funnels into the Downtown Diner for lunch because that is where everyone else is. Conversations range from last night’s high school football game, to the latest national news and opinions of local politicians. The grilled ham and cheese sandwich coupled with their burnt tomato soup and a side of homemade potato chips is the best lunch a person can have.

Looking the quintessential country girl, Laura walks into the diner wearing knee-high rubber boots crusted in mud, blue jeans, and a long-sleeved plaid shirt with her hair tucked under a straw cowboy hat. After she orders her usual chef’s salad, she says, Ben, I’m worried that there is something very unusual happening here. The animals seem restless or bothered by something, and I don’t know what. I’ve seen more dog bites than usual; a cow tried to jump a barbed wire fence; and Candi, my office girl, noticed that birds are flying in massive groups. Something wrong is going on here.

Laura, you’ve been working very hard lately, isn’t it possible that you are exaggerating things a little bit? How can all these animals behave in an uncanny manner all at once?

That’s it, Ben, I don’t know how or why, and I should. I’m a vet.

How about dinner tonight and we can talk about it more, if you like? I say with a hopeful voice.

Well, I want to do some research tonight after closing hours, but maybe a drink at Barney’s is what I need, say nine o’clock?

Very well, see you later tonight. I look forward to changing the topic of the conversation to something completely different as soon