Before I was lucky enough to get a career in insurance, I worked for a few years as a delivery driver for a gas and fuel delivery business. I drove a tank truck to homes, farms and service stations, delivering fuel oil and gas. In any business, new customers are essential and I can remember walking into the office at Texaco and having Evelyn Lloyd, one of the owners, say to me, “you have a new customer, that you need to stop at the next time you are in Pekin”. Apparently a new customer had moved to a home in Pekin and needed fuel oil in order to be able to heat her home. Since I received commission for accounts like this I was more than happy to stop and fill the tank.
The next time I went to Pekin on deliveries, I made my way to the hillside on the east side of the railroad tracks to the address I was given to make the fuel delivery. Shortly after I parked the truck in front of the house, a elderly lady by the name of Mrs. Underwood appeared on the front porch watching me getting ready to fill her tank. In a few moments she appeared right beside of me introducing herself to me. She was a little frail elderly lady wearing a scarf over her head and looking at me through coke battle glasses that made her eyes look the size of coffee saucers. I would guess her to be in her mid 80s but that is only a guess. As I grabbed the hose to head around behind her house, she grabbed my arm and to be honest I did not know whether she needed help or she thought I did, but either way the three of us, me, Mrs Underwood, and 125 feet of fuel hose that held 17.5 gallon of fuel oil, headed across her yard and around back to fill her fuel tank.
Over the next few months I would make several trips to see Mrs. Underwood and each time she would be there to help me perform my duties. After getting to know her after a couple visits she began to confide in me and let me know about her life. She had grown up and raised her family in Kentucky where she and her husband had a few acres with some livestock, a garden, and an orchard that provided fresh fruit for her family for years. Sadly when her husband passed and she needed help do to her age and health, a son who lived and Pekin, decided to force her to sell the property in Kentucky where all her friends and family, her church, and her entire heritage was to come to Pekin where she knew no one except her son, who according to her was on drugs and only wanted her here where he could get his hands on her money. The more I got to know her, it was evident that Mrs. Underwood was inwardly distressed and would rather be where she came from rather than where she ended up.
.
You did not have to be around Mrs. Underwood for long to realize she had a tremedous faith in God and gave Him thanks for all things. She was the kind of person that when she was talking, you were listening! As weird as it seems, I actually looked forward to chatting with her during my deliveries. She always talked about her family, when she was younger, and about her late husband and his life. She gave me details about how her son had forced her to do things that she had not wanted to do and how she had felt she had no choice. Sadly she spoke of her son whom she loved but seemed undeserving to me as she told of his antics.
One day as I was fulfilling my duties there, she pulled herself close to me and looked up right into my eyes with those thick coke bottle glasses and said, “Jesus talked to me last night! I was praying and he suddenly was right in the room with me. He told me that everything was going to be okay and that everything was in His control and that he loved me! He comforted me and I felt such peace.” Of course as you can imagine, I thought, “Oh my, this lady has lost it! I was young and very uncomfortable with anyone professing such crazyness! What should I say? I didn't want to make her think that I thought she had gone off the deep end. Everyone knows Jesus does not appear in your bedroom and starting talking to you. Maybe she just meant suddenly she felt comforted while praying and was giving him credit for the sudden peace of mind she was feeling. She repeated ,” he was here in my bedroom in all His glory. He was here telling me that everything is going to be alright”. I just wanted to finish my job and get away from this crazy lady who it seemed had suddenly take leave of her senses. As I handed her the receipt and got ready to leave she grabbed my arm and looked my in the eyes again and said “You be good! Be a good young man”! I had not really thought about it until then but every time I had been there when I got ready to leave she said, “You be good!” As the heating season went on and I visited her more to provide her fuel and I really learned more about her and how she depended on God to provide for her and keep her going. Her son, who have moved her here, had no interest in visiting her or doing anything for her, leaving her with hardly anyone to spend her long days with. I have to tell you, I felt a connection to this elderly lady and I began to believe that maybe Jesus did visit her in the evenings to provide her comfort and teaching. After thinking about this, who am I to say that she is just mixed up and only imagining all this is happening. Am I to think that a man who went to the cross to wipe out the sins of mankind would refuse to appear and talk to an old lady who was suffering and tetoring on the brink of losing her mind when He had often told us that he would comfort us in times of trouble. I am not going to be the one who says that Jesus did not have a personal relationship with Mrs. Underood. Not me, no way!
One day when I was there I noticed she did not come out when I pulled up in front of her house to fill her tank. I filled the tank, went to the truck and made out the sales ticket and still no Mrs. Underwood.
As I was approaching the front door a lady came out and met me on the porch and told me that Mrs. Underwood was not doing well but she wanted to see me inside. I went in the house to find her lying on the sofa surrounded by three or four younger ladies that I had no idea who they were. She directed her eyes to me and whispered something that I could not understand so I moved closer and said “what did you says Mrs. Underwood? Once again with very weak eyes she looked at me and fixed her eyes on me and whispered again, “you be good”. Be a good you man! Her voice was so weak she could hardly speak but I knew what she was saying based on past conversations with her. That was the last time I saw her. She past away shortly after that. I have to say as a young man, she made a huge impression on me.
Over the course of my life I can remember meeting many people but very few have left me with the same memories that I have of the that old lady. If you know me very well you know that if we have a conversation, and that conversation ends, I am very likely before I walk away to mutter, “you be good”. Why, because some kind, elderly lady I knew briefly and admired 50 years ago used to tell me that!