A Story of Faith

By Ralph Spence - July 1995

Many in our church knew my father, Ralph Spence.  On Thursday, June 22nd, he had an accident on the way to a church meeting in Houston, Texas.  The injury from his fall led to complications and two days later, without regaining consciousness, he passed away.  My father devoted much of his life to serving the Lord and it is fitting that his last energy was spent heading to a diocesan meeting in continuation of that service.  He always had a purpose in attending any meeting and this time he planned to fight for increased financial support for clergy widows.  His memorial at Christ Episcopal Church in Tyler, Texas, has been designated for that purpose. 

Since I have lived in Montana for seventeen years, the time my family and I have been able to spend with my parents has been limited.  We were visiting during the week before my father's accident and I find comfort and inspiration in a conversation I had with my father at that time.

Whenever my sisters or I brought our children to visit, Dad liked to fix breakfast for his grandchildren.  He always fixed a wonderful breakfast which usually included biscuits along with a special plum jelly that he made himself with wild plums that he picked along the road.  On Wednesday, June 21st, I heard him come down early to get things started for my three boys.  I joined him in the kitchen and, as we often have done, we began to discuss church business.  After a time, Dad pointed out that it was easy for him to do things to serve God because he knew for a fact that God really did exist.  He proceeded to tell the following story about the time when my mother's parents had a fatal accident.  This was an event that was discussed very little while I was growing up, and it had been about fifteen years since Dad talked about it with me.  

My grandparents were traveling by private plane in the Caribbean when they left one island and never arrived at the island which was their destination.  Some speculated that my grandparents had merely changed their plans.  However, when they failed to call my mother on her birthday the next day, Mom and Dad knew something had happened.  Mom and Dad had been married about thirteen years, and I was two years old at the time.  Mom was afraid to let Dad leave to go assist in the search; however, after the third day of a fruitless search by authorities, she let him go but made him promise not to join the search himself.  The search effort was extensive and my father had even arranged for convicts to be used to assist as "extra eyes" in the planes making the search.  The main purpose my father had was to find out what had happened and to bring my mother the peace that answers can provide.  There was little hope of finding her parents alive.

Finally, after additional days of organizing the efforts of private search teams and the authorities, Dad got Mom's permission to join the effort.  In his search, Dad began one morning by repeating everything that my grandparents had done the morning of their flight.  He had breakfast with the same people they had breakfast with that morning.  They had breakfast at the same place as my grandparents and I believe he ordered the same meal.  He also had the same person take him to the airport and that person described the way my grandparent's plane had turned as it took off from the runway.  Dad then instructed his pilot to repeat the exact same pattern of flight.  All morning, as he did these things, Dad repeated a fervent prayer begging God to let him find something to answer the questions for my mom.

As Dad's plane flew over the expanse of water with Dad repeating his prayer, he saw nothing.  The search seemed hopeless after so much time had been spent by others; however, my father placed his trust in the Lord.  Suddenly, he heard a voice and felt the presence of God saying, "over there Ralph."  Dad looked but could see nothing.  Then again he heard, " over there Ralph."  This time Dad had the pilot land the seaplane on the water and he crawled out and laid down on the wing and peered down into the water.  He could still see nothing.  After a while, he had the pilot take off, circle the area and then he landed again.  He knew that God had told him that this was the place to look, so he climbed out on the wing and searched again.  As he looked down he spotted something on the ocean floor below and he lowered a line with a hook to retrieve the object.  The object he hooked and lifted to the surface was my grandfather's golf bag complete with identifying initials. 

In answer to my father's prayer, God showed him where to find the wreckage of my grandfather's plane.  The plane had shattered into many pieces when it crashed into the sea and the remains were unrecognizable from the air.  Dad had seen nothing when he ordered the pilot to land and had seen nothing in his first search from the wing.  The search efforts of many others, over several days, had failed to find anything in their repeated flights over this same stretch of water.  With the recovery of the plane and the subsequent investigation, my father now had an answer to bring to my mom.

Dad knew that God talked to him that day long ago and my father explained to me that morning how that experience had made it easy for him to be God's servant.  He talked about the difference it makes to serve the Lord, knowing that it was not a game, and that God really does exist.  He wished that everyone could know, as he did, that our lives are truly a gift from God and that it is an incredible honor to have the opportunity to serve our creator.  He had known this as fact since the day God answered his desperate prayer long ago and he used his gift of life to bring honor to our Lord.  

It was a special time for me sharing these truths with my father on Wednesday morning before my family and I flew back to Montana.  I did not realize what an incredible gift that morning had been until I received a call from my sister Thursday afternoon with word of my father's accident.   God gave us all the gift of my father's energy and his faith as he personally, and through his actions, touched the lives of so many.  God also gave to me the opportunity to be with my father one last time before God called Dad home to his heavenly kingdom.  For the first time since I became a father nine years ago, I spent Father's Day with my dad just five days before his accident.  I gave him a card that said how proud I was that he was my father and I can still feel the strength of our lingering embrace as he said he was also proud of me. 

Ralph Spence lived and died without any doubt that God really does exist.  He gave witness to this fact everyday in the way that he recognized the value and dignity of each individual he met and the way he respected the sanctity of all God's creation.  I had the great honor of hearing my father tell his story of faith the day before his accident and I know that I am called to share this story with others.