Eleanor Bracken was a good teacher. She had taught at Wobegon Elementary forever, or so it seemed to her, as she pushed back a wayward wisp of auburn hair that insisted on dangling over her left eye.
“One more day before the long weekend,” she thought to herself as she glanced at the clock on the end wall. It told her that her students would be here in 10 minutes.
Or so she thought.
Doug Brown stared straight ahead over the steering wheel as his school bus approached the stop sign at Smithers Road and Blackberry Lane. He had been on this route for 12 years. He could drive it with his eyes closed. There were only seven other such intersections in all of town, each one controlled by a 4 way stop and he knew each one like the back of his hand. After all things didn't change much in Wobegon. Bob's Diner at the corner of Main and Mulberry Street still needed a new coat of paint to relieve the tired yellow trim that was desperately trying to hang on for another season. The post office building on Main Street hadn't changed much in the last 30 years unlike postal rates which seemed to edge up every year.
He knew everyone in the community including the children on the bus. They were like family to him and the kids loved him in return. Last Christmas Sally Gagnon had given him a home made card with a yellow hand drawn bus on the front and a smiling face looking out the side window. “That's me in the window,” she had said proudly. Five months later that card still smiled down at him from a shelf of knicknacks in his study.
Becky's mom worked at the local deli where she made the best Reuben sandwich in the world. Her dad was a mechanic at Smithfield's garage as a transmission repair expert. He fixed Doug's car when the transmission died last summer for no apparent reason. Her older brother Shawn had ridden this bus two years before. He was the freckled face ball of energy on Jack Davis' third grade bus who always said “thank-you” when he had dropped him off at the bus stop 2 blocks from their home.
He glanced up at the mirror to assure himself that everyone was behaving safely. Jeremy Peters was slouched down in his seat with a Yankees baseball cap pulled down over his eyes. His mom and dad had divorced last year. It had been an ugly affair and Jeremy was showing the impact of missing his dad by acting out on the bus. He felt sorry for the boy. He hadn't done anything to deserve the angry words that were hurled at him by his hurting parents. He seemed especially sad today. “I wonder what happened to him last night,” Doug thought to himself as the intersection rushed up to meet him.
“Maybe I should invite Jeremy over for some grilled hamburgers tonight,” he thought to himself as he shifted down to second gear. He could never replace his dad but perhaps he could offer some encouragement to him. But what would he say to a first grader? What would he do with him all evening? His stomach felt like a chunk of ice had settled there whenever he thought of inviting someone over so he dismissed the thought as quickly as it had come. He would grill some hamburgers and enjoy a quiet evening alone with his wife Sandee instead.
He was making a mental shopping list for tonight as the bus rolled to a stop at the intersection. There was no other traffic at the moment from either direction. He felt the clutch disappear into the floor as he prepared to shift into first gear. They were right on time like always. He prided himself on his flawless record. Last year the school board had awarded him the bus driver of the year award for best on time pick up and deliveries. He smiled as he recalled the fun he and Sandee had had at the awards banquet.
This day should be no different from all the others, or so he thought.
What was it the pastor Jim had said on Sunday at Wobegon First Baptist church? Doug checked both ways as he shifted into first gear and began the final stretch to the school. It had been an interesting illustration involving a bus.
“You are the driver of the bus and it is your responsibility to get your passengers safely to their destination.”
Where is he going with this Doug recalled thinking.
“Let your mind be represented by this bus,” he had said holding up a child's toy yellow bus. “You are its driver and you are responsible for where it goes. If you are not driving it someone else is and that someone else is a hijacker. He doesn't belong in your bus. He has one goal in mind and that is to kill, steal and destroy and he will do whatever it takes to get what he wants.”
A black Lexus appeared in Doug's left hand mirror. “Where did that guy come from,” he wondered. There had been no other vehicle in the intersection a minute ago. “And what's a car like that doing in Wobegon?” He knew every vehicle that belonged to anyone in town. The Brown's drove a silver Dodge Caravan with a broken left side tail light that was caused when Dennis backed into light pole on the Red Rooster parking lot. He had been looking at Sally Caruthers crossing the lot in a tight black skirt that was an inch or two too short. The sudden stop got his mind off Sally but it was going to cost him $200.00 to repair. Bob Stewart, the girls basketball coach, drove a red Mazda, Tom Peters owned a white Buick, and everyone else drove vehicles he recognized. But this Lexus did not belong to anyone in Wobegon.
Pastor Jim's message continue to course through his mind. “The hijacker is a thought or feeling that gets into your bus, takes control of the wheel by causing you to feel anxious, fearful, discouraged, or helpless, so that you can't do what you know you really should do. Or it's the addiction that keeps you chained to things like alcohol, drugs, tobacco and any other substance you can't do without.”
“I don't have of that kind of stuff going on my life,” Doug remembered thinking. He conveniently forgot the anxiety attacks that had started shortly after his father had left his mother. The first time he had a panic attack he thought he was going to die from what he thought was a heart attack.
“You've had a panic attack,” the doctor told him rather nonchalantly. “Take these medications and you'll be OK.” He still felt his stomach tighten every time he thought of that encounter. He had taken the meds just like he was told but he still wasn't OK. No way was he going back to that doctor.
The driver of the Lexus gave no indication he wanted to pass. “Who is that guy,” Doug wondered half out loud. The children behind him were laughing hysterically at a picture Todd Beardy had downloaded from the internet the night before. Everyone except Jeremy that is. “I wonder if Jim knows what his kid is doing on the net,” Doug thought.
Pastor Jim's message interrupted his thoughts again. “Remember, you are responsible for your bus so if a hijacker gets in you have to get rid of him.”
“That's easy for you to say,” Doug remembered thinking, “but how do you do that?”
It seemed like the pastor was reading his thoughts. “You're probably thinking, 'how do I do that?' Let me show you how.”
Just then Nellie Brown's cat dashed across the street right in front of the bus. It was a small Calico cat, little more than a kitten. She had named it Ali in honor of her now deceased aunt who had been her favorite aunt. It had become Nellie's closest companion after her husband Derrick had lost his battle with lung cancer and her only son Sean was sent to Iraq. That cat had seen more of Nellie's tears than anyone else. That was less than a year ago, he recalled, because the fruit tress along Blackberry Lane had been in blossom. Their cheery pink and white colors had stood in stark contrast to the black mood he felt after Derrick's death. He and Derrik used to coffee together at Bob's Diner to exchange the latest jokes making the email rounds and to discuss their investment portfolios. Unlike other times when he thought of Derrick his eyes didn't fill with tears, he only swallowed a sad lump in his throat. “The closer you were to someone at the time of death, the deeper the grief will be at his loss and the longer it will take to get back to normal,” he recalled reading in a pamphlet about grief at Jacksons Funeral Chapel the night of Derricks public viewing. “Whoever wrote that,” Doug thought to himself, “sure knows what he is talking about.” He swallowed another lump.
Doug saw Ali just in time to slam on the brakes and avoid a tragic accident but not without causing a backpack to fall off Jessica's lap and Becky screaming in fear that they would all die. Her screams got others to cry for fear they would never see their mom and dad again. Everyone except Jeremy.
Ice was forming in his stomach again. Fortunately for Doug, Tommy Poiron, who sat in the first seat opposite the driver had seen it all. “He almost drove over Ali! He missed her. Yeah!” His infectious excitement made the sudden stop a special event for him and soon everyone was cheering with him.
“Yes how do you do that,” Doug asked as the interrupted conversation carried on.
“You give the hijacker a name. If it's fear you name it. You're fear. Get out of my bus! It will go. God has assigned you the responsibility to drive your own bus and He has given you the power to do it. You are responsible for all the choices and decisions you make whether good or bad. However, we have a common enemy whose same is Satan who wants to kill, steal and destroy your happiness, your freedom, your reputation, your marriage, your life. His goal is to get you to make bad decisions and he has a very effective way of achieving that goal. He gets into your bus and takes control. He comes as fear so you become immobilized, you believe that you are unable to do the things you want to or need to do. Or he comes as anxiety, discouragement, despair, anger, addictions or any other number of crippling thoughts and feelings. When he is allowed to drive your bus he will try to wreck it.”
“How does this play itself out in real life,” Doug wondered.
Once again it seemed Pastor Jim was reading his mind. “Here's how it plays itself out in real life. You are given an opportunity to take on a new job which would benefit both you and your family. But you turn it down, not because you can't do it but because you are afraid you may make a mistake and lose that job so you stay where you are. Fear was driving your bus. Or you so anxious about meeting people you stay in your house, feeling trapped and imprisoned in your own home. Anxiety is driving your bus. Or you lose your temper and say things that lacerate people's heart leaving you alienated and friendless. Anger is driving your bus.”
“How does he know all that stuff about me,” Doug wondered. Had Sandee talked to him?
They were approaching the next intersection at Blackberry Lane and Hibiscus Street. Wobegone was known for its flowers and fruit trees so most of the streets were named after one or the other.
Doug glanced into the left hand mirror to check on the Lexus. All he saw was an empty street stretching back to the next intersection. “That's odd,” he thought to himself. “Where'd that guy go?”
No other streets crossed Blackberry Lane except those that were controlled by a 4 way stop. He was sure he had seen the car follow him through the stop at Smithers Road, so if there were no other streets to exit Blackberry Lane where was the Lexus?
Doug's stomach muscles tightened into a hard icy knot. Something intangible was trying to warn him about that car. The hair on his neck jumped upright and a bitter bile assaulted his throat. He involuntarily shivered as a cold drop of perspiration rolled down his back.
There was only one way for that car to disappear. If the driver had turned right into a back lane he could exit left at Bayberry Street, turn left at Hibiscus Street and meet them when his bus got to Hibiscus. But why? What does he want? Terrorists, that's who they are. Just 2 weeks ago the Kelvin County School board to which Wobegone belonged had conducted a weekend seminar highlighting how terrorists might be targeting school buses to terrorize the entire nation.
“As a hail of shrapnel pierces flesh and breaks bones,” the presenter from RAND corporation graphically explained, “ the shock wave tears lungs and crushes other internal organs. When the bus's fuel tank explodes, a fireball causes burns, and smoke inhalation causes respiratory damage. All this is a significant return on a relatively modest investment. Two or three kilograms of explosive on a bus can kill as many people as twenty to thirty kilograms left on a street or in a mall or a restaurant.”
“We have a common enemy whose same is Satan who wants to kill, steal and destroy,” pastor Jim interrupted his thoughts again.
Doug cringed. “What does this guy want from me?”
“We live in this world but we do not wage war as the world does,” pastor Jim had read. “The weapons we fight with are not the weapons of the world. On the contrary, they have divine power to demolish strongholds. We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.”
“Maybe, if I stop the bus and back up to Smithers Road again I would avoid him,” he frantically thought to himself. A quick glance in the mirror destroyed that hope. An Allied moving van had entered the street coming to move Hank and Betty Dickson to Hank's new job with Citi Bank.
He was trapped. Adrenaline gushed into his body, sweaty palms gripped the steering wheel in a death grip, a jack hammer of fear pounded in his head as a daring and dangerous plan evolved in his mind.
Todd Beardy was making Becky laugh with his dowloaded picture, Tommy was still amazed how Doug had missed running over Ali and everyone else was excited about getting to school real soon. Everyone except Jeremy.
“If I get to highway speed and I can blow across Hibiscus before he gets there. Then I can pull in at the sheriff's office.”
He shifted down to gain more power. The sudden jerk propelled a project Daniel had made for Mrs. Bracken onto the floor shattering it into a thousand pieces. Daniel cried, loudly. Others screamed as the bus gained speed and hurtled down the street bouncing like a bucking bronco at every bump the city works department had not yet repaired. Becky's mouth took a direct his as her head slammed against the headrest in front of her. A loose front tooth flew into the back of her throat. She gagged, then vomited a mixture of blood and breakfast Cheerios all over Todd and his pictures. Everyone was screaming except Jeremy.
The intersection rose up to meet them. Last year the city had resurfaced Hibiscus Street which had turned the intersection along Blackberry Lane into an unofficial speed bump. Ordinarily this would have been no problem since it was a 4 way stop but today Doug had no intentions of stopping.
The bus entered the intersection at 50 mph at exactly 8:45 am.
“The kids will be here soon,” Eleanor thought to herself as she straightened out a strand of hair that had fallen over her sparkling blue eyes. She wanted to get on with her day because she was looking forward to a long weekend getaway with her husband Bill and their little Schnauzer Max to celebrate their third anniversary.
The front of the bus leaped into the air like some rodeo bull trying to dislodge the tormenting demon on its back. At the same instance Doug saw it. The black Lexus came hurtling along Hibiscus Street. He estimated it was going at least 60 mph. He also saw the day he had gone fishing with his dad for the last time. It was a beautiful summer day on the east shore of Begone lake. They hadn't caught anything except a whole lot of love for his dad. His dad had walked out on him and his mom 2 weeks later. He saw himself singing along with his mom as she played her favorite church choruses on the Kawai piano she had earned working as an accountant at Wobegone Plumbing and Heating. Those were peaceful, loving memories. He had heard somewhere that you see your whole life flash in front of you just before you die.
The Lexus slammed into the bus next to the passenger door sending it spinning into the air like a stuffed clown hurled aside by a deranged bull. A massive explosion rocked the entire city sending burning shrapnel and human bodies parts flying into parking lots and through store front windows.
First she heard the moan, almost like an anguished groan you would expect to hear at the funeral of a loved one. Then the screams. “Jeremy, don't die, Becky come back, don't go, please, please come back.”
Doug's left arm smashed into Sandee's nose. She screamed as she hurled her body away from the madman beside her whom she had tenderly kissed the night before. Tears mixed with blood instantly stained her baby blue nightgown.
Doug jolted upright, terror filled eyes darted around the room for some danger only his eyes could see. A scream ripped from his throat with a ferocity that sent chills down her back. “Get out of my bus! Now!”
She held a tissue to her bleeding nose and watched in stunned disbelief and what happened next.
Doug raised a shaking right hand to point an index finger at some unseen threat. Beads of sweat gathered on his forehead then trickled down his face to disappear in the bed sheet she had washed yesterday. Eyes gleaming with a tenacity she had never seen before he repeated the same words, this time with a confidence and calmness that left her shaken.“Get out of my bus,” he said quietly with a strength and boldness that was unlike anything she had ever seen.
“Doug, wake up” she said softly. Her heart threatened to jump out of her chest as she slowly reached out to touch the man who had so brutally smashed her nose a few seconds ago.
Her bloody face was the first thing he saw. Like a tiger he leaped at her, arms spread eagled to shield her from some unseen danger and together they crashed against a night table. Sandee screamed as her back caught the edge of the table and together they rolled onto the floor with Doug on top of her.
“Doug wake up!” Her shrill scream pierced the darkness to awaken him.
He jolted up and way from her. Blood gushed out of her left nostril as though trying to escape some internal monster.
“Wha...what happened?,” Doug stammered as he staggered to his feet.
“Help me get up. You were having a nightmare. Just don't hit me again!,” she said as he helped her to her feet. He wanted to hug her, to hold her but that would have to wait until later. First he would have to help her stop the bleeding, get cleaned up and change the sheets that had eagerly swallowed up the first gush of her blood.
Then he told Sandee the dream in all its vivid detail – the bus full of children, Eleanor Bracken waiting for them, the black Lexus, pastor Jim's message, Jeremy and the crash.
“I think I understand pastor Jim's message now,” he said quietly. “I've been letting fear and anxiety drive my life. I believe God was asking me to invite Jeremy over for a barbecue but I was afraid I wouldn't know what to do so didn't do it. I let fear drive my bus. And in my dream he died with all the others.”
Suddenly, without warning Doug burst into tears. From somewhere deep within his soul a dam burst sending out a torrent of bottled up emotions. His entire body shook convulsively as though some unseen force was trying to escape from within. And it was. A cleansing was going on deep in his soul.
“Oh God,” he cried out between sobs, “I have wasted my life. I have been afraid to do almost anything You asked me to do. I have allowed fear and anxiety to govern my life. They, not You have been driving my bus. Please forgive me.” With that a new wave of sobs racked his body.
Sandee wasn't sure how long this weeping went on but she knew when it was over. A sense of tranquility and peace like she had never seen before came over Doug and it seemed to fill the whole room. “Thank you Jesus,” Doug whispered softly as an errant tear rolled onto the pillow.
“Where are you going,” Sandee asked as Doug suddenly got up out of bed.
“I'm going to find Jeremy's phone number so I can phone him first thing in the morning. I'm inviting him over for a barbecue tonight.”
“Thank you Jesus,” she whispered softly as she wiped tears from her eyes. “Thank you for answering prayer.”
My Goal For This Story
I have counseled hundreds, perhaps thousands of individuals and couples in my almost 30 years of ministry. A common crippling ingredient which keeps many of these people in bondage to repetitive destructive behavior patterns is fear and anxiety.
No one likes to live in this kind of bondage but many do because they have not understood how to permanently free themselves from its debilitating grip. When I began to understand the ramifications of 2 Corinthians 10:3-5 it changed my life and I've seen it change the lives of others. I have seen everything from a debilitating fear for children's health and safety to the devastating addiction to alcohol be destroyed permanently before my eyes.
Cor 10:3-5 For though we live in the world, we do not wage war as the world does. The weapons we fight with are not the weapons of the world. On the contrary, they have divine power to demolish strongholds. We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.
One woman asked, “how can it be that easy? I've struggled with this for years.” The answer is simple. We use weapons with divine power to demolish strongholds as Paul put it.
The illustration of the yellow bus came to me one afternoon as I was reading an article related to fear and anxiety. A hijacker gets behind the steering wheel of our bus with the intent to destroy it. His power lies in the fact that we feel we are powerless against him. The fact of the matter is we are not powerless against him at all. The moment we give him a name we demonstrate that we are the ones in authority of this bus and that he has to go, now. For example, parents name their own children because they have been given authority over them. In the same way we demonstrate our authority over any negative or harmful thought by naming it and when we do so it disappears.
I questioned the power of this until one night when I was awakened with an overwhelming sense of discouragement bordering on despair. It felt like I was entering a deep dark cavern of hopelessness and fear. Initially I was so blindsided by the attack I didn't know what to do. Then I remembered what I believe the Lord was trying to teach me. I was in charge of the bus and I had a weapon with divine power to demolish any stronghold in my life. In my mind I simply said, “You're just discouragement. Get out of my bus.” Instantly the feeling left and I rolled over for a good night's sleep. Since then I have had numerous opportunities to get rid of hijackers like anger, fear, pride, selfishness and others and they all flee the moment they are identified. It gave me a new understanding of James words when he wrote: “resist the devil and he will flee from you.” James 4:7
Now I have shared this powerful tools with many who come to us for counseling and we are seeing results that are amazing. I'd like to share this powerful tool with the world but I am only one person with a limited number of contacts. So I wrote this story with the hope that it would inspire and encourage you and that you would send it to your friends.
Together I believe we can make a difference in someone's life, perhaps even save a life, a marriage and a family. I say that with confidence based on the things we have seen happen in people's lives.
So would join me to make this happen by sending this story to your family and friends with the assurance you are pointing them to a tool that may change their lives forever.
Thanks and Lord Bless
John Neufeld
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