MILLEDGEVILLE — It’s funny how the passing of time changes the way I think about life. Beginning with my earliest memories, I always wanted to know what it was like to live somewhere besides home.

My dad worked on an Air Force base. I grew up in an Air Force town. Consequently, there was occasionally some talk in my house about his job being moved to another base in another state.  

For a young boy whose middle name was “Adventure,” I remember thinking about how cool that would be. Some of my friends moved away as I was growing up, and in some strange way, watching the moving truck pull away from the curb had a certain glamour to it.  

Of course we never moved away, I eventually returned to my hometown to begin my career, and to begin the life-long responsibility of raising a family. In those early years, however, I always wondered what it would be like to leave home.

Of course being at home was comfortable. We lived close to my parents, and eventually lived in the same neighborhood with my sister and her family.  For a nine month period in our lives, we all even lived with my parents.  Still, I had the itch to know what lay beyond the boundaries of my traditional, American upbringing.

I eventually did leave home, taking a job in a neighboring county. A few years later I left that job for another a few hours further down the road;  finally I landed back in the Lake Country for what I suspect will be my last stop. Occasionally, I still get the itch to know what else is out there, but to quote my daughter-in-law, “It would be hard to leave my ‘happy place’.”

My mother never really forgave me for leaving home, but my sister did eventually get me off the hook by moving to Utah. Two-thousand miles away just seemed to trump two hours from home. My sister eventually came home, but I never did. Of course, she became the favorite child again, and I was relegated back to my black sheep status.

All kidding aside, the cool thing about moving around is that I have some really great friends all over the state. I once read that we are lucky if we have five close friends in our lives.  Well, I am better than lucky because I have a ton of them.

I recently had a voice mail on my cell phone from an old friend with whom I worked in my hometown asking that I call her back regarding some information about a mutual friend and former colleague.  

You wouldn't know Ruth O'Dell, but when we first met, she was Ruth Hill. It's been a long time since we first worked together and honestly, I don't remember her job title exactly. It had something to do with working with special needs students; I was working in the alternative school business, and I was a very young school administrator trying to make a name for myself.  

Ruth had a doctorate degree back when it wasn’t all that common, and most everybody just called her Dr. Ruth. It didn’t take long for us to connect, and we just hit it off.  Ruth is one of those special people whom you know instantly will change your life, and although it has been almost twenty years since we first met, she taught me much of what I believe about relationships.

We eventually worked together for one year in the same school before I took off on my journey across the Great State of Georgia.  I have learned a lot in my 28 years of being a public educator, but I was in absolute awe that year as I watched and learned from one of the great mentors in my life.  

Ruth was single when we met, and she eventually married Denton O’Dell. Denton lived in the North Georgia mountains, and he shared his love of the mountains with Ruth. They split their time between the place where she worked and the hills they both loved.

Our mutual friend had called to give me the sad news that Denton passed away unexpectedly. It seems that he had been battling esophageal cancer, had been through both chemotherapy and radiation, and was faced with the very real possibility of surgery to remove his esophagus.  

He was in a lot of pain and was not too keen on the surgery, but a decision on whether to have it done was eminent. As I understand it, Ruth had arranged an appointment with the doctors to discuss the surgery and was going to talk to Denton to be the encourager that is her character.  

Upon entering the room where he was resting in his recliner, he complained to her that he felt as though he was going to pass out. I am not exactly sure of the details from that point forward, but he had a heart attack and didn’t make it.

I called Ruth a couple of days ago, and as I expected, she sounded like she has on a hundred previous phone calls. If I hadn’t known any better, I wouldn’t have suspected a tragedy in her life. She was more interested in me and my family than in discussing her personal tragedy.

We did eventually talk briefly about Denton’s death, and she talked about not knowing what to pray for on the drive to the hospital.  Sometimes there are more painful things than death, and having the intuition to let go of those we love in order to spare their suffering is a struggle at best.

I am really not very good about being able to quote Bible verses, but I think it is in the Book of Romans where Paul reminds his readers that God does not allow things to happen in our lives beyond what we are able to bear, but with those difficult times, He provides the way of escape so that we may be able endure it.  

As I hung up the phone with Ruth, I couldn’t help but think that God had accomplished that very thing for both Ruth and Denton.