Verlin Rathman, my husband, was born on June 2, 1947. The two of us were married on October 23, 1965. Verlin proudly served a tour in Vietnam during the third year of our marriage. Our son, Steven, was born to us two years later.

In August 1977, Verlin had to have a surgical procedure done to remove a mole from his right neck area. It was not good news from the start. The surgeon who removed the mole was convinced it was cancerous, but wanted to wait for the pathology results before making a final determination. The survival rate for malignant melanoma, we learned, was just five years.

All of this happened on a Friday. As you might imagine, it made for a terribly long and agonizing weekend. As it turned out, Verlin was scheduled to work that Saturday.He could have taken off, I suppose, but he went in anyway figuring that work might help with the stress of waiting. In any case, as he was driving into work that day, he overheard a distress call on his CB from a stranded motorist. The voice on the other end was crying out “Someone help me! Help me!” Even over the CB radio, the man’s slurred speech suggested that he was intoxicated. Verlin responded to the man’s pleas for help although he was usually very cautious about such things. When he arrived on the scene, he learned that the man was not hurt, but had merely ran out of gas on the side of the road. Even so, my husband offered to give the man a ride to the nearest gas station.

On the way to the gas station, the man noticed Verlin’s surgical dressing on his neck and inquired about it. Verlin explained what had happened the day before, including the part about how we were now waiting for news from the doctor. At that point, something strange happened. The man began removing his shirt to show Verlin a surgical scar. It started just below his right shoulder and ran partway down his back. He went on to explain that he had the very same form of cancer some twenty years earlier. At the time, the doctors had given him only six months to live. He instructed Verlin to follow his doctor’s advice and that everything would be okay.

Some days later, Verlin’s test results came back and our worst fears were confirmed. He had stage III cancer. Verlin underwent surgery a little later to remove the cancer. The surgery required extensive tissue removal on the right side of his neck. At the time, the doctors gave him only a forty percent chance of living.

On the contrary, he survived! Verlin lived cancer free for twenty years after his neck surgery. When the cancer did return, he survived another seven years on top of that. It was twenty—seven years in all—time to watch our son Steven grow up and get married—time to welcome his grandchildren into the world. His life can quite accurately be described as “full”.

Verlin was a good husband and father. I remember with fondness the endless hours he and Steven spent riding their dirt bikes together. Verlin was so passionate about riding. He saw it as a positive activity that kept kids involved and out of trouble. Being a skilled mechanic, he helped many young riders with the maintenance of their bikes. He loved doing it. He loved being involved with the youth.

Verlin spent many hours in the garage working on bikes and bonding with his son, Steven. Many times, I would join them, watch, and listen as they worked and talked. However, sometimes I felt as if I was intruding. They had such a great relationship and those were special times.

I remember once when Steven was trying to qualify to go to Tennessee for the Annual Loretta Lynn National Race. He had to do four qualifiers and place first in each of them to get there. Three races down and three first place finishes later, Steven was completely spent. “I just don’t think I can do it,” he told his dad. Steven was so exhausted that he was shaking all over. However, he was so close! Verlin knew his son would always regret not at least trying to finish. Walking up to Steven, he pointed to a group of spectators nearby. “You see those girls over there,” he said, “they came to see you race. So go out there and do the best you can.” Suddenly Steven found he had a little extra gas in his own tank. Steven not only went on to run the race, he took first place as well. Steven told me later that he wasn’t sure there were even any girls in that group of spectators. Still, the thought that it might be true was just enough motivation to make him want to press on.

It is when I look back on times like these—many as they were—that I can’t help but smile. While the loss of my husband still pains me, I give thanks to God for the many wonderful years we shared together. I think back on that day sometimes—as I know Verlin also did—when my husband went out of his way to help a stranded motorist on the side of the road. It brings to mind a verse from the Bible: “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares” (Hebrews 13:2). For it was from that very unlikely source that we received God’s message of hope and perseverance.