Charge Hell With a Bucket of Water...and Win!

I recently celebrated a birthday. Like most in the days of social media, people will send you birthday greetings through several social media forums. Gone are the days of birthday cards in the mail or actual phone calls or surprise visits. I usually have a “day of Rah” for my birthday. “Rah” is the nickname that was given to me when my little sister started to talk. She couldn’t say Ronda, and it came out Rah, and it has stuck for the last 44+ years. Most people I know call me that, from friends to school teachers, to employers. Sometimes, it is hard for me to answer by my given name because I am so used to it.

The “Day of Rah” is usually spent at home, in my jammies, watching movies that I want to watch that others don’t want to watch, they are usually within a themed genre like science fiction or historical fiction. I eat anything I want. I do not answer the phone or the door. My family knows to text me the day before or if they send a text, I don’t answer. The only phone call I will answer is from my Mom. I never want to not take a phone call from her, because one day she won’t be calling.

This year I had one greeting that has stayed with me since. I often refer to it during my day and laugh a little. One of my friend’s mom sent me or made this comment on another birthday greeting; “Ronda would charge hell with a bucket of water and win.” Just think about that for a moment. Conquering hell with a bucket, a single bucket of water! I have thought about what that would take. I am flattered, to say the least. I am wondering what I have done in my life to warrant such a compliment. I think about all the years I have taught Sunday School or served in various ecclesiastical leadership positions. I have thought about the people I have rubbed shoulders with and tried to help in some way. I have thought about those times when I didn’t think anyone was watching, but guess what, they were. This Mom of a friend of mine is actually the Mom of my best friend that was killed when I was twelve.

My family moved from the most beautiful place on earth, the Bitterroot Valley of Western Montana, to the dust, wind-driven, plains of eastern Idaho. From a valley nine miles wide, with the Saphire Mountains to the east and the Bitterroot Rocky Mountains to the west to a valley where the wind blows constantly and mountains you can barely see in the far-off distance. It wasn’t the best thing. I left everything and every person I knew to nothing. My best friend for my entire life was left in Montana and I moved to stinking Idaho.

My first experience in a place we would call home for 40+ years was going to church. I walked into Sunday School class that was held in the church’s kitchen. The seven kids seated in the middle of the kitchen were loud and obnoxious. I could hardly believe the kind of irreverence those kids had. My parents would have been all over my behind in seconds! There were three boys that were playing some song with their noses. One nostril was plugged with their finger while the other one was pressed to a rhythm as they hummed the song. I sat down to listen and was horrified when their song was over because they finished and one of them picked up a pot and a large spoon and hit them together and yelled KONG! They were playing the Kong Show. Oh my hell! I was in hell! The kid who did the konging was loud and seriously on my nerves from the minute I walked in. The teacher was oblivious to the whole situation. Little did I know that this loud kid would soon become my best friend and we quickly became a duo that seemed to be in constant trouble. I wouldn’t have called it trouble, but adventures. The community would, however, call us a menace.

I won’t go into all the adventures we had, only to say there were many. In the summer of 1980, the majority of our group turned 12. In our religion, turning 12 means you are on your way to being a “young woman” or “young man”. You get to leave the kids’ classes and start hanging out with the teenagers of the community. I remember we all talked about growing up and what we wanted to be involved with in high school. My friend, however, only talked about turning 12 and being able to perform a certain ordinance in our church. I would consider our community a farming community. An area block was 1 mile by 1 mile by 1 mile by 1 mile. It wasn’t like we lived next door to each other. Going on a bike ride or getting together took some time for sure. My friend would turn 12 in June, June 5th to be exact. A week or so before his birthday, he gave me an odd-shaped piece of wood. On the piece of wood was written the following: “Want to have a SUPER time? Come to Shane’s house on June 5th at Noon. RSVP to Shane’s Mom.” It was an invitation to a birthday party. We met at Shane’s played some games, cooked hot dogs, and then went to town and watched the “Superman Movie”. Shane’s favorite character was Superman. I instantly fell in love with Christopher Reeve’s Superman. Lois Lane had my heart as well. I loved her spunkiness and independence. I also loved their relationship. Their banter with each other was a lot like what Shane and I had.

In August of that same year, we were talking about school. Our friendship was not romantic by any means. We were very close, but that never even crossed our minds! We were honest about everything we talked about. One of the kids in our group was a little off. His biggest achievement was showing us he was double-jointed in his legs. He was a nerd. Always had a nose and mucus problem, his shoes were never tied, he rarely had socks on, and he was always a mess. I think the thing that made me the maddest, was that his Mom always helped him with any school project we had that involved an award. He always won, but it wasn’t his work and we all knew it. Apparently, this kid had a crush on me. Shane and I disagreed on my treatment of this kid on many levels. Shane told me I should be nice to him, that he deserved it. I told him when I felt like being nice I would, but right now I wasn’t concerned about my behavior toward him. It was our first and only argument.

On the 11th of August, I broke my arm participating in a kids’ Olympics. I was actually out of town at the house of my childhood babysitter. They had called my parents to tell them what had happened and make arrangements for a place to meet for me to come home. My parents told my babysitter not to let me watch the news. We met a couple days later for the transfer. My best friend from Montana was with me and as we traveled back to my home, I asked my Mom if she knew if Shane was around or not. She burst into tears which was so weird. I just knew that my friend from Montana and Shane should get married. Both had birthdays in June and both grew up on dairy farms. My Dad started with, “You know Ronda, sometimes Heavenly Father needs people to help him in heaven. Well, he needed Shane. He has died”, I don’t remember anything much after that except crying myself to sleep in the car and again when we got home. The next day was his funeral. His friends were going to sing at the funeral. I said I would, but it was the biggest mistake. I saw his casket roll in and I lost it. I couldn’t do anything except sob and sob, the ugly kind of sobbing. I was on the stand so I was in view of the entire congregation that had gathered to pay their respects. It was horrible and has affected me in many ways all my life. It wasn’t until not too many years ago that I heard how he died, and what had actually happened. His family was hauling hay and he was following the truck on his motorcycle. When the truck went across the highway, he followed and was hit by a car. I thought he had died once he got to the hospital, but I was told not very many years ago, that they actually took him off life support. He would have lived, but would have been disabled and not the same kid. I can tell you I was very angry when I found that out. I actually could have seen him and told him I was sorry about our argument. But I never saw him again after our argument and I left him standing there as I rode my bike back to my house.

It was Shane’s Mom who sent me the birthday wish about conquering hell with a bucket of water. I have wondered many times what I have done in her eyes to have her make such a statement. Knowing she said that has meant a lot to me. I have been accused of not pursuing any relationship because I was waiting for Shane. We didn’t have that kind of relationship. So no, I haven’t been waiting for Shane. I have been waiting on other things. But like Lois Lane, Superman is not obtainable. He rescues her and takes her flying, but they couldn’t do anything much more or he loses his power. The world needed Superman. I needed Superman! If I had to conquer hell with that bucket I would, just to see my Superman one more time!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bfKu5Jc8TjA