The Phone Call
I called Betty from a pay phone in McEwen, Tennessee so no one would know that i was trying to talk to such a pretty girl.
After our first date in December 1972, my hope for a relationship seemed lost. Betty was back at her “mansion” home in Roswell, Georgia. I was back on the farm in Bold Springs, Tennessee.
Mark, my favorite cousin, came over to visit. He asked me if I had a girlfriend. I didn’t want to admit that nothing was happening in my life, so I said not really, but I had a date with a girl, but she showed no interest in me.
Mark was persistent in discovering who this girl was and what she was like. He said you do like her. I replied she would never go for a guy like me. Call her up and see what she says, was Mark’s response. You never know. She just might like you, too.
Back then, telephones were fixtures in the house connected to the wall or on a counter or desk. I told my cousin that I couldn’t call her from home. There were several reasons not to call from home. The first and obvious was too much money for a long-distance call, and my dad would never allow it. Second, phones were multi-party back then. I didn’t want my nosy neighbors listening to me and getting embarrassed if she rejected me. Nor did I want to be the brunt-end of every joke in my family during Christmas break.
Mark came up with the idea of driving to town, McEwen, and making the call from a payphone. It was winter and cold. McEwen was just over ten miles from the house. He pushed and pushed, so we drove to town.
I didn’t have Betty’s phone number, of course. I had to call the operator (dial 0) and ask for the Ferguson family in Roswell. As you can see, times have changed since the dark ages. After I finally got her number. I called. The lady who answered was Betty’s mom. Mrs. Ferguson was as sweet as she could be. She told me that Betty wasn’t at home. She was over spending the night with a friend.
I had to know who that friend was. I was immediately sorry; I asked. She was staying at a boy’s house, and I was shocked.
You see, Betty owned a horse, Calamity. Her friend, Carter, a guy, had a farm and his own horse. They were Ferguson's family friends. I hung up, rejected. It was snowing that year, and the only consolation I got from a Ferguson girl was Mrs. Ferguson loved hearing about the snow and told me I could call again later.
Mark and I were both blown away. How could I think I might have a girlfriend who was spending the night with another guy and her horse? I had wasted that drive to town and the call from the phone booth, only to speak to Betty’s mom.
After a few days, I mustered up the courage to attempt another call and drove to the raging metropolis of McEwen. Rejection number two was because she was at Carter’s house again, supposedly riding and taking care of her horse.
The population of McEwen has never been over 2,000 people. I knew for sure that I couldn’t compete with all of that. I had now screwed up my courage and made two different calls, only to be rejected. Can I say I was pretty discouraged? It was time to move on.
Betty’s mom assured me I could call again, but I didn’t do so. Like Gomer Pyle said on TV, “Fool me once; shame on you. Fool me twice; shame on me.” I got the picture.
All I can remember is that the snow got pretty deep that year. The snow was deep, the nights dark and long, like the little hope the poor country boy had of catching the big city girl.
On Sunday morning, I was supposed to leave for college after the morning service. My mother came in early and anxiously woke me up. She said I needed to get on the road and see if I could get out of town before I got snowed in and couldn’t make it to college on time.
I packed up and headed back to Rome, Georgia, but it was already too late. The snow was falling hard and heavy. I got stuck trying to get over some of the more significant hills. Neighbors came out and helped me keep the car on the road. I had slipped from ditch to ditch. You need to remember there were no cell phones, but neighbors noticed my plight and came to the rescue. It took me hours to drive about 60 miles, and I stayed with my Uncle Ralph and Aunt Zelna in Columbia, Tennessee.
Mark, who had pushed me to call Betty, lived there, and we spent the day and night talking about Betty Ferguson and my hopeless situation. Finally, the snow stopped, and on Monday afternoon, I decided to drive south on Interstate 65 to Alabama and cut over to Rome, Georgia. That way, I would miss Mont Eagle, Tennessee, which was sure to be snowed-in.
Hours later, I arrived at the college and drove up the circle to the front of the administration building. I drove up in my Chevrolet Corvair, covered in snow still. There was no snow in Georgia.
To my surprise, Betty was anxiously awaiting my arrival and wondering what had happened.
She was not interested at all in me, (well, she claims she had budding hope but I certainly didn’t see it) but because she has always had a heart as big as Texas; she worried about me in the snowstorm. Betty was crying. Any of you that knows Betty knows she is one of the most kind-hearted people on the planet. I liked she was interested, but knew that it was over for me in any attempt to date her. All hope had been lost all because of two missed calls.
A good lesson to think over is this. God loves you, and as you seek Him, He will work in your life to give you all that you need. The Bible verse Matthew 6:33 makes it straightforward for you. Believers are not to seek a mate, a family, or happiness. They are to seek the Lord and His kingdom. He loves you enough that He will add to your life just the person you should have.
There is much more joy and less pressure when you consider that God worked in both of our hearts to bring together two improbable candidates for each other. What God does in our lives, He does well.
I think God can even use those pesky cousins to help you find God’s will. Much of it is just living in the love of God, believing in Him, and stumbling on precisely what His will is for you.