Kippys Korner

WHERE ANGELS WALK. How Kent and Debbie Nelson changed our lives

Herb Little, high school chemistry teacher extraordinaire, stood at the blackboard and extolled the virtues of inorganic compounds. I had Sodium chloride at the front of the class, preppy John Sherbondy on my right and my childhood friend, Debbie Pederson on my left. To my amazement all three of us determined our unknown compound at the end of the year and passed the final exam. The real test was yet to come. Two years later, Debbie and I were roommates at Dana College and I was engaged to John. The following year I married John and Debbie married Kent Nelson, a farmer from Blair Nebraska. As young married couples we all kept in touch regarding college graduation, our starting a business, and Kent and Debbie buying a farm. Diaper pails, homemaking and keeping track of mutual friends consumed our time. The Nelson's were now blessed with 2 children, Ryan and Amy. With our days crammed full of duties, it was an unexpected visit from the couple to our home at 449 Glen Ave that got our attention. We sat around an estate sized 5 legged table John and I had refinished. The afternoon sun beamed through a west window. Debbie had news. She had a brain tumor that would require surgery. She explained emphatically that she was not concerned about the tumor because she and Kent had found God and knew that Jesus would carry them through the ordeal. My brain reeled ---- I did not speak ------- Debbie was 28 years old -------- She had a husband and 2 kids -------- And she was telling me that Jesus was going to help? When they left John said they didn't need Jesus, they needed a good brain surgeon. The next week Debbie had a malignant brain tumor removed. Vibrant young mothers aren't supposed to be wrenching in a bucket from chemotherapy. The surgery was deemed a success and subsequent chemo worked. Debbie was diagnosed with a 98% full recovery. Half of Washington County Nebraska turned out for the celebration. John and I found a parking spot for their recovery party a half mile down the gravel road. A fatted cow had been butchered; music flowed from a man seated in the kitchen strumming some religious tune. This was not the kind of party John and I were used to attending! The people were different. No alcohol. No smoke filled rooms. Fresh language. And yes, the music was new to us. John grabbed a plate of food - Looked around a second time for a nonexistent keg and escaped to a remote corner of the basement with his 16 month old son. The event, the music, the beverages, the caring, and a bunch of Christians giving God the credit for Debbie's recovery were in stark contrast to John's soul, which was about as dark as a blind man's pocket. Three months later Kent called and said the cancer had returned. Their Christmas was spent around a tiny tree in an Omaha hospital room. Our Christmas was spent with a wild holiday party. My husband and I were nursing hangovers when the phone rang. John answered and Debbie was on the line. Fighting through tears she exclaimed "They killed my Kent, someone broke into the house and killed my Kent, and they murdered my Kent." The 35 steps to the balcony of the crowded Blair Lutheran Church was a little harder carrying our second unborn child. Two folding chairs were brought out for John and me. We turned and faced the reality of our world. A walnut coffin rested on a gurney near the alter and my friend Debbie, now a wisp of health, had garnered all her strength of spirit to put her husband to rest. Two small children were stoic figures at their mom's side. Amy had been with her dad the night he died. It had been too much to keep up the trek back and forth to Blair so Kent had moved his small family in with Debbie's parents outside of Council Bluffs while he was making the hospital visits. It hadn't taken the police long to figure out that Debbie's wayward brother, Dean had murdered Kent. The child inside me was doing her gymnastics routine as I considered what lay ahead for my dear friend. She was terminally ill. The cancer's grip was not receding even with massive doses of chemo. A beautiful black wig now covered the widow's head. She had now lost the only human being she could conceive of raising her two children. The heartache of seeing the walnut coffin resting in the church was overwhelming. The sight of a young widowed mother being pushed in her wheelchair, followed by her children will always linger. I went to the restroom, collapsed on the window sill and sobbed. I am sure there have been colder January the 2nds, but this one's icy gloom gnawed through us with the bitter reality that Kent was dead and Debbie would be laying next to him shortly. When Debbie had come to see us the first day to inform us of her illness, her resolve in accepting the will of God was evident. That confidence had vanished in Debbie. Her mothering instincts kicked in like an angry tigress defending her den. The fear generated within a family following a murder is overwhelming and persists to some degree for a lifetime. Debbie's resolve was to beat the cancer at all costs because she firmly believed she was the only one who could raise and protect her family. The pain only increased her resolve to fight God one on one. The rest of the winter seemed to be a series of icy storms. By February Debbie's condition had worsened. I went to see her alone. She was in such pain that the doctors had cut her spinal cord. Her eyes were warm and bright and her concern for my health and that of my unborn child had not diminished. I let Debbie know that we would be proud to take her children and raise them as our own. Debbie began to cry. "God will not let me die now. God will not leave my children alone." I felt terrible for challenging Debbie's resolve, but felt I had to offer the help. I felt guilty with a rocking rolling baby in my womb, full of life, while Debbie lay fighting to simply exist. My nights after that were spent crying and praying. I struggled with my own depression. March 6th brought news of Debbie Ann Nelson's death. Alyssum Ann Sherbondy was born March 8th. Debbie's brother Dean was found guilty of murder and sent to prison. One year later we were blessed with our third child, Jeff. My spiritual battle was unresolved. Anger dominated my prayers. The question "Why did God allow this to happen to my friend persisted. Having brought three children into this madhouse served to deepen the despair. My conclusion dropped into a bottomless bucket of despair. There was no heaven, there was no God. Six months later, I began to cry uncontrollably. Had I given this child life just to be a flash in the universe of time? You live, you die, is that it? I was ready to accept that as my religion. At that point I heard footsteps coming up to our bedroom. Debbie walked into the room in a radiant shining gown. She looked beautiful. "Hi" Debbie bubbled. God told me that you were wondering whether or not there is heaven and I came to tell you that THERE IS. I know that you are angry about what was happened. There is a reason and someday you will understand. I was not frightened, I just lay there frozen. My heart raced. "It's really wonderful at Christmas. Would you like to join us this year?" I squeaked out a "No." Debbie joked, "I know, not yet, but it is really wonderful, as all the famous musicians in time are there for a Christmas Concert. Mozart and Beethoven and everyone." I watched as Debbie walked over and wiggled John's sleeping toe, "Hi John" she quipped. She then moved over to my side of the bed and held my hand. Her hand was burning hot, but it did not hurt. "Yes there is a heaven and Kent and I are together." She said, and then she was gone. After Debbie left, I lay there, becoming increasingly frightened. I woke John and asked if he had felt Debbie wiggle his toe. He said no, but did not doubt my vision. That week I was resolved to find the Nelson children. We knew that Ryan and Amy had gone to live with Kent's parents in Blair. I packed up the three kids that November and headed for Blair, Nebraska. I knocked on Kent and Debbie's neighbor's door. And asked directions to the senior Nelson farmstead. On arrival at the small white farmhouse I had no idea of what reception I might garner. I knocked on the door and introduced myself. Mrs. Nelson's response was warm "Oh, Kippy, I've heard so much about you and John." I was sitting in the kitchen of a wonderful Christian woman. Amy was still in school, so the Sherbondy gaggle waited till the country school bus pulled up. It was a foggy Nebraska afternoon when the bright yellow bus pulled up and out popped a bright face I recognized from Sunday school days, in a bright red rain coat. A great afternoon was spent together and many more would follow. Before leaving I was ready to share my vision. Janice Nelson listened carefully and asked if I knew of Debbie's vision before her death. Janice explained: A week before she died, Debbie was in terrible pain. An angel in a glowing white dress had come into her room, held her hand and told her not to be afraid. She should be prepared to die. The hot, non burning hand clasp and glowing white dress were identical to my vision. The next day Debbie's pain was gone and she had the serenity of no longer fearing for her children. I drove home in a state of shock. That night I prayed. "Debbie I went and saw your children today. They are doing well." I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. I said "No! No! I believe, don't come." At that point I was too frightened to endure another visit. My faith in God and Heaven has never wavered since. Lay a hair on the table. Imagine the width of that hair as your time on this earth. Now imagine tiny hairs laid side by side going all the way around the world and back to you. The single hair represents your time on this earth. The other hairs represent eternity. To a Christian life on this earth is as close to hell as they'll ever get. To a non believer this is heaven. The pain of cancer, the heartbreak of a murdered husband, fear for the safety of her children, all these factors would have destroyed most people's faith. But Debbie had accepted a gift. That gift included the freedom to forgive, the freedom to love, and the freedom to die, knowing Jesus was waiting for her on the other side of life with loving arms. It's time to make your choice. God did not send His son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through Him. I am the way the truth and the life; no one comes to the father, but by me." Jesus of Nazareth, Son of God.