Monthly Archives: June 2012

The Broken Passenger-Pt2

Dear Readers,

     Here is part 2 of "The Broken Passenger."  If you haven’t read part 1 just scroll down the page and you will come to it.  Thank you all for reading my blogs.  Pass the story on if you like… 


 The Broken Passenger Part 2- Journal Entry 3-27-1992


      I don’t believe life will change for Danny until he gives his life to Jesus.  Only the Holy Spirit can change his bitter angry heart and put peace back into his life.  God knew 1000 years ago that Dan would get hit by a car, and the horror he would go through.  It was no surprise to the Father in heaven.

     The Lord also knew that I would be driving the very bus Dan rides to go back and forth to the pharmacy to get his medication.  That wasn’t a coincidence!  What a spot He put me in!  It’s a good thing I planted a seed or I wouldn’t be doing my job as a Christian.  I ask God to give me the courage to speak about Jesus whenever I’m supposed to.

     June 21, 1992 Update

     Dan still has his legs!  Passed him today sitting on the curb.  Cars were stopped and the police were nearby.  Daniel looked fed up and frustrated.  He probably fell down.  I could just imagine his hot temper and picture him slamming his crutches on the road and swearing and yelling.  My heart ached for him.  I stopped my bus and asked if he was okay through my side window.  Dan gave me a thumbs up sign that he was fine.  I wonder if he really was fine or if he just wanted to be left alone.

     July 1, 1992 Update

     Today was boring all day until the last few minutes because I got to see Daniel for the first time since his fall.  He told me he broke one cast and one crutch when he went down.  Also, it takes him quite awhile to get back on his feet.  He told me how much he hates pity.  "Sometimes people like to help because it makes them feel good inside!" I told him.

     "But I just wanted to be treated with, with…" he sighed

     "Dignity?" I added

     "YES!!!" he shouted angrily.

     "Sometimes we all need a little help and it means swallowing our pride!" I told him from experience.

     The great part of the bus ride was he smiled a lot this trip and even laughed a warm hearty laugh that I haven’t heard before.  I told him it sounded good to hear him happy.  He mentioned he got into a support group made up of people who were born healthy, but are now facing lifetime disabilities.  This group seems to be helping him a bunch.  Dan’s attitude is different, better somehow and hopeful.  He shared about not wanting to be supported for the rest of his life, but having a great desire to be independent again.  It will mean using his brain not his brawn, like in his past work.

     The few moments I spent with him were so meaningful.  He doesn’t even realize how much he touches my life.  And the most exciting part is, HE STILL HAS HIS LEGS, praise God!

     July 11, 1992  Update

     Saw Dan today!  We chatted casually until we reached his bus stop.  Then before he left my bus he looked at me curiously for a long time and the last thing he said was, "I’ll see you on your return 8:10 trip, ok?"  And I replied, "Ok, I’ll be watching for you!"

     For the next two hours I thought about all the things I would like to tell him, but when I returned he wasn’t waiting at his usual stop.  I wanted to tell him there is a reason for all this, maybe it’s for his salvation.  I’m not saying God let this happen to bring Dan to Him, but, hopefully it will be the crisis in his life that makes him turn to the Lord.  Jesus is the only one who can pull him through this, especially if he should eventually lose his leg.

     I so want Dan to know the peace I know.  To share with him that only God can deal with traumas this big, losing a leg, losing a child, losing a breast, losing a business, losing a home, losing a mate…   There are losses we can’t bear alone.  To be able to turn to Jesus is to be able to lean on someone, draw from His strength.  It’s such a relief not to have to bear all that life dumps on us, by ourselves.  I’ll talk again to Daniel and continue to pray for him.

                             Love in Christ,   Claire  xoxo


P.S.  That was the last time I ever saw Daniel.  After a few weeks, I stopped at his house and knocked on the door.  His father answered and when I asked how Dan was doing, he told me they found him passed away one morning, sitting in his favorite chair in the basement familyroom.  I’ll always wonder if he invited Jesus into his heart.

1 Cor.3:6, "I planted the seed, Apollos watered it, but God made it grow."  (NIV) 




The Broken Passenger

Dear Readers,

     I came across another passenger story from when I was a bus driver.  Hope you enjoy it.  I will run it in two parts because it is so long.  Thanks for reading… 


     The Broken Passenger,  Journal Entry 3-27-92


     March 27, 1992

     I started my usual work day with prayer.  As a Christian city bus driver I asked, "Lord put angels on my wheels, cover my bus with the blood of Jesus and save every person on my bus."

     This particular day I was tired, adjusting to a shift change and whining to myself about having to work so late, when "Danny" boarded my bus.  I watched him as he moved to his seat, almost in slow motion.  Crutches and casts on both legs drew my curiosity.

     "How did you hurt your legs?" I asked him.  Dan proceeded to tell me in detail about his accident.  He was struck by a car, and left with a concussion, two shattered legs, one arm was 90% severed off, and he was covered with cuts and abrasions.  And now, almost 8 months later, he was facing a milestone.  Suddenly he asked me to shut off the interior lights in the bus for a moment, I suspect so he could breakdown in private.  Although it is against the rules, I accommodated him.  He wept and then continued, "After almost 8 months of casts and therapy, I have to decide about losing one of my legs!  The decision is mine! the doctors told me."

     "But you’re moving around so well!  Why?" I probbed.

     His eyes filled again, "The surgeon says it’s just supporting me, nothing else."  He was frightened and angry and hurt all at the same time.  I wondered if this experience would be the one to bring him to the Lord.  I wondered if I was supposed to witness to this desperately broken passenger. 

     I know my bus is surrounded with angels.  I know my light is supposed to shine.  I know I can’t hide my faith and expect to be blessed.  I only had a few minutes to grab his attention.  I wanted to say, " Dan, listen to me.  One of my relatives hit a 19-year-old man with his car.  He killed him.  The dead boy’s parents were devastated.  He’s dead Dan!  You have been hit by a car and lived to tell about it.  You’ve been through hell!  Write it all down.  Tell people your story!  We need to hear it!  We need to know what other people are going through.  We all gripe and complain about every little thing.  We need to hear other people’s stories."  I stayed silent.

     As we approached his stop I grasped my opportunity and finally spoke, "Dan, I’m a born-again Christian.  I’ll be praying for you all day."  And I have been.  As I write this story, I’m praying for a miracle healing on his leg.  Or, if he must lose his leg, let it be the thing that brings him to Jesus.

     As he left my bus he looked deeply into my eyes, gave me a firm hand shake and thanked me.  I said, "Hey, you boosted me today Danny!"

     When my bus emptied I broke down sobbing.  I felt ashamed for complaining about anything at all.  Griping about working late, about my hubby being out of work, about my house being to small, whatever!  It all seemed so trivial compared to losing a leg.  I hope I run into him again.  He touched my life deeply and he’s not even aware of it.  One person touches another life, and another, and another.  It’s all part of God’s plan.  Here I am starting my day thinking I’m going to touch lives, and the Lord pulls a reverse on me.

     Update – April 10, 1992

     I’ve seen Dan a couple more times since that first day.  He still has his leg!  So far, so good!  I’ll continue to pray for him and maybe get to share "My Story" with him some day.  I know God can heal his leg, but it must be His will.  If Dan loses it, there’s a reason.

     Update- June 8, 1992

     Saw Danny today, still has his leg!  They are going to try putting a rod in the middle, and use shock therapy.  I pray it works.  He’s scheduled to have it done soon. 

     Update- June 14, 1992

     Saw Dan again today.  He’s really discouraged.  Told me he just found out no financial settlement will come from his accident.  The driver admits it was an accident she hit him, and knows he’ll never work again.

     I don’t believe he’ll never work again!  I must talk more to him.  He’s angry!  He says he just wants to be normal again.

     "What’s normal?" I asked him

     "My legs back, ok?"  he shouted

     "Ok, legs back and blind, or legs and deaf, or legs and brain dead, what?" I hammered back at him.

     I wanted to tell him about a family I know from the south that moved to Texas a few months ago.  Soon after moving, their teenage daughter was hit by a car and suffered from severe head trauma.  They kept her alive and she’s been on life support since the accident.  Her parents just took her off of it, because she was declared legally brain dead.  She died right after.  I wanted to tell him to get off his self pity kick and start thanking God for the second chance he’s been given at life.

     He says he’ll never work again.  Hogwash!  He’ll just have to find a different kind of work.  His brain is to gifted to waste!


                                     Love in Christ,   Claire  xoxo

     Part two next Wednesday. 


The Crisis

Dear Readers,

     A little over 20 years ago this very humbling experience happened to me shortly after I started bus driving for the WRTA (Worcester Regional Transit Authority).  Hope you enjoy reading it.  Pass it on if you like…


     The Crisis- Journal Entry February 27, 1992


     Shortly after I started working at the WRTA as a city bus driver I was put in a crisis situation.  I was struggling to learn all that is expected of a city driver and being harassed quite often by my peers.  I’ve since discovered that the harassment is part of the camaraderie, a kind of acceptance to the group.

     Anyway, I was doing my usual run to Brookfield at 5:15PM out of city hall.  As I pulled up to the back side, close to the Galleria, I opened my front doors to expose an elderly lady laying on the ground.  Her hysterical daughter was over her screaming, "Help her!  Somebody help her please!"

     As a CPR trained driver, I knew immediately what I had to do.  I didn’t think about it, I just did it!  I called dispatch and asked them to send an ambulance to the back side of city hall.  Then I looked back at my bus load of 5PM passengers and shouted, "Does anyone know CPR?"  Every head shook a no sign.  I groaned and replied, "We’re going to be a few minutes late!" 

     Leaving the bus and entering a crowd standing over her body, I asked a second time, "Does anyone know CPR?"  And again, all I got were more noes.  I groaned again because I knew what it meant.  Mouth to mouth and CPR with two people is difficult enough, but alone it’s exhausting.  Still, you do what you have to do, act now and think later.  I leaned over her and listened, no breathing!  I felt for a pulse, no pulse!  I quickly looked up at the sky and prayed, "Help me Lord, please help me!"

     I pushed the vomit and her false teeth aside and began.  One and two and three and four and five and six, breathe, breathe, one and two and three and four and five and six, breathe, breathe, and again and again.

     Not seeing anyone nearby, you are supposed to continue until a paramedic comes and tells you to stop.  After several minutes the ambulance arrived.  They quickly cut her clothes off and put probes on her naked chest.  In the meantime my inspector also had arrived and commented, "Stop now Claire, and let them take over!"  I ignored him and continued to work on her as I had been trained to do.

     Finally after all their preparation was done the EMT spoke, "Stop CPR!"  I raised my hands and backed up and he quickly moved in checked her and said, "I have a pulse!" 

     "Can I quit now?" I asked him exhaustedly.  "Yes, we’ll take over now," came the welcome reply.

     I went back to my bus stunned and shaking.  "Are you all right?" my inspector asked me, "Can you finish your run?"

     "Yes, I’m ok!  Just give me a minute."  Then I broke into tears as I rinsed my mouth of vomit and saliva and watched as the paramedics loaded the senior citizen into the ambulance.  My arms and legs wouldn’t stop trembling.  The passengers sat silently and watched as I tried to regain my composure.

     I headed out to Brookfield with a bus so silent you could hear a pin drop.  Soon a call came from the dispatcher, "Dispatch to 101, dispatch to 101!"

     "This is 101, go ahead!" I answered

     "Claire, the Worcester Police called to commend you on a job well done, honey!"  I burst into tears and tried to speak, "Have…, have they heard how she is doing?"

      "She’s doing fine," the dispatcher came back.  I tried again to regain my composure and finally wiped my nose and completed my route.

     After I finished working I decided to follow up.  The fire department located the hospital for me and I went to check on her progress.  When I arrived I asked the night nurse how she was doing and she said, "Sit down hon," trying to prepare me, "Mrs. R. passed away.  We worked on her for a couple hours but she had a massive coronary after she got here!"

     Stunned, I dragged myself to my car and cried all the way home and collapsed in my yard.  My clothes were still covered with vomit, my breath still had the scent of her saliva on it.  My next door neighbor Rich, who got me this job, saw me fall, and literally carried me into the house.  I couldn’t speak, so I immediately went in and took a shower while my neighbor explained to my hubby what happened at city hall.  I decided the next day that I would go to the funeral, to the dismay of my coworkers.  Company fears I guess.

      An obituary in the newspaper confirmed that I had worked on a 90-year-old woman.  (I thought she was in her 70’s)  I was still shaken for awhile but a reward was to come to me the morning of the funeral.  In the funeral home I was greeted with tearful family.  As I searched the room I asked, "Could you point out to me please, Mrs. R.s daughter?" 

      "She’s there kneeling beside her mother.  Who are you please?" the greeter asked me.

     "I’m the bus driver who…….."  I got no further and was grabbed by someone.

     "The bus driver, the bus driver is here!" a relative shouted and then I was bombarded with hugs and thanks from literally everyone in the room.  I apologized to her daughter for being so abrupt with her as I worked on her mother.  She hugged me again and again crying and said, "Thank God you were there, thank God!"

     Then her brother came to me.  His comment touched my aching heart, "Praise the Lord, praise the Lord someone cared enough to help my mother!"

     My body relaxed for the first time since the actual incident occurred.  Relief flooded over me.  Also, I realized that noone was angry or upset with me.  I had been fearful for nothing.  And, they were Christians to boot.  What a bonus!  Thank you Lord, thank you so much for this humble validation.

                 Love in Christ,    Claire  xoxo

 James 4:10, "Humble yourselves before the Lord and He will lift you up."


A Letter To Diane

Dear Readers,

     After much prayer, I was searching my journals for this week’s blog, again begging God not to wait until the last minute to help me with this, as I need preparation time.  I came across another one of "My Letter Stories" written in December of 1987, almost 25 years ago.  This letter went to a casual friend of my sister Teresa, who was being tormented about not taking her son to a different hospital before he passed.  Thanks for reading.  Pass this along if you wish… 


     A Letter to Diane- Journal Entry 12-21-1987


     Dear Diane,

     I have kind of a writing ministry.  I’m not sure why God gave me this gift.  Maybe it’s because I can’t always say what I’m feeling.  Anyway, when I was baptized in the Holy Spirit, the Lord confirmed this ministry.  Sometimes I procrastinate and find all kinds of busyness to keep me from writing, but other times I listen to the Lord when He tells me to write.

     So, that’s what I’m trying to do today.  Here goes!  I know you are hurting about the recent loss of your precious son.  I also know how you are guilt ridden about not following your motherly instinct about getting him to O.R.U. (Oral Roberts University) hospital.  God knows that will haunt you for the rest of your life, if you let it.  But the Lord keeps saying something to me.  And, I think it’s a message for you!  Over and over in my head I hear, "There are no surprises to Me!"  Not much of a message is it?  But, it seems to be applying to many events in life right now.

     It tells me God knew about my sister Teresa’s illness long before we did.  It tells me the Lord knew about her surgery, her malignancy, and her breast removal before she was even born.  It tells me He already knows what she’s going to go through for the next six months or for the rest of her life for that matter.

     But, it also tells me something special about you Di, that I was feeling when I called you on the phone but I couldn’t say it without sounding like a fool.  So here it is in a letter!  The Lord knew the day your son was conceived, about his illness and death.  He knew the unusual complications that would occur in his sickness.  And, He also knew the very second your son would go to be with Him.  HE KNEW THE VERY SECOND!

     You can eat yourself up wondering if you could have kept him alive longer by doing this or that.  But, knowing the little bit about you that I do, I know you gave this whole thing to the Lord in prayer at one point in your child’s illness.  You gave Him control!

     It’s difficult to understand why the Lord our God would want such a young sweet boy to be with Him so soon, but somehow I can picture your son totally enjoying being with Jesus.

     I know several people who have lost children and I’ve been told to write to many of them.  One was a neighbor in Colorado who’s child had an asthma attack and passed away.  Another was a friend who’s two-year-old ran a fever one day and passed away in only a few hours with what turned out to be spinal meningitis.  Another was my oldest sister who’s seven-year-old daughter slowly died her whole life of mini heart attacks.

     Forgive me hon, for giving you advice when I have never experienced the horror of losing a child.  But, in the past I have had visions.  One was of the child who died of asthma.  It was beautiful!  I could see him bouncing on Jesus’s knee and laughing and holding our Lord’s hands.  It was so peaceful.

     How do I say this next part to you?  Well here goes!  Your son also has appeared to me in a vision!  In that vision he is walking with the Lord, tall and strong and happy along side of Him.  The vision is so beautiful!  I had to share it with you.  Please be at peace Diane.  Know that your son is happy and complete being with Jesus.

                          Love in Christ,  Claire  xoxo 


  Mark 10:13-16, People were bringing little children to Jesus to have him touch them, but the disciples rebuked them.  When Jesus saw this, he was indignant.  He said to them, "Let the little children come to me and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these.  I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it."  And he took the children in his arms, put his hands on them and blessed them.  (NIV)