Always in Three's

Ok, I've decided to tell another story about my brushes with death. I have titled
this story "Always in Three's" since I have an appreciation for Drama. I've never
had a passion for writing but I've always loved to tell stories. Especially stories I've been through since no one else has shared similar experiences with me.

Now If I were to choose a writing style it would have to be based in the 1950's Era, Ala Hitchcock. The way he would write would always suggest either a deep seated fear of losing your berring of a serious situation or being in a predicament in normal surroundings where your own life is suddenly at stake and/or you can empathize with those involved. Hence I call this post "Always in Three's" in an effort to produce a sense that anything can happen next, at anytime... although my brush with death are only two in number.

What you are about to read is true. In every detail.

It was the first snowfall of the season in Erie Pennsylvania. Everything fell silent. Only a few lines of tire trails litered the street plush with the newly fallen snow. I was trying to get the last 2 of 90 hours in the ministry as I was Regular Pioneering at the time and I was calling back on the interest shown on previous calls. I've always felt peacefull in the snow. Not many like it, but personally I love it. Even at the age that I am now... given the opportunity, I would build a snow fort and just lie down and listen to the sound of silence as it reverberates off the inner crusted shell.

Slowly walking across the street and taking it all in, I muster up my senses to climb the 3 stories of a brownstone to an attic that was rented out. Knocking on the door I was greeted by a smiling face. "Come in man! How's it going?" the warm voice cried from behind the door. It's the kind of warmth that only exists east of the Mississippi offered to complete strangers. I've been there before though. I left a few magazines and wanted to see if there was anything that sparked his interest.

Climbing the stairs to an attic that was once part of a family home in the late 1800's felt like home to me. Growing up in an old brick home myself and going to the attic was always a treat for me as a kid. In fact, we had an old hatch on our roof that I used to open late at night and sneak on to the roof and look at the top of the homes and the stars of the heavens and think about life, pray and see how far to the edge of the roof I could go without freaking out.

So I felt safe.

We sat for over an hour pouring over the Bible and him talking about his faith and how he felt about the Pope and the impact he had on him as his "spiritual" leader. Over the course of our conversation, being the gracious host he kept offering me something to eat or drink, which as a rule I always turn down. This came from 6th grade when all the kids came to school talking about the movie Halloween where a kid bit into an apple and there was something in it that I'm not going to mention but freaked me out. (as a side note, when I was walking to school in 7th grade... a friend of mine from my Congregation found a bag of candy under a mailbox and started eating it. He asked if I wanted any and I said no! "are you crazy!!!" He died last year. Not from that candy, but from too much stake and fatty foods. Ok, are we good? Ok, now back to the story) :)

So after that conversation I really felt I met a meek person. Someone Teachable! I couldn't find him again. I tried for months. Periodically I'd get him at the door, but he was always too short. "WHO IS IT???" "NOWS NOT A GOOD TIME!!!"

As persistant as I was I really wanted to find someone who wanted the truth vs. being force fed so I gave up on him.

In the meantime I was getting very interested in the local news. I've always been facinated by weather but more and more the news of what was happening locally kept taking me over.

Over and over there was a story of an old woman who was shopping at the Millcreek Mall that had been missing for weeks. It was being played over and over again on all the stations. She was the Charlie Sheen of her time.

But finally it happened.

It was there.

Her Body was found in a ditch off of I-79.












Her Poor family.









Her dreams.







Ripped away. So sad.





Her life.....




Ending so tragically at a mans hand.







On the small 15 inch Television... in the privacy and security of a 17 year old childs bedroom was her killer.

Taken away in handcuffs... was the man I was preaching too alone.


Now I've been in situations before where I've felt Jehovahs protection, but never did I realize how much so till recently.

Over the past few years I've been through a lot. And as my friends will attest to... Jehovah has been there for me.

But 2 years ago I met a guy at my work. And he told me about a close-in-counter a friend of his had in Wisconsin. Walking home late on night, he was offered a ride by a guy driving the same route. He turned him down although it was tempting. Weeks later the same man was on TV for the grosest acts against humanity. His name was Jeffery Dahmer.

When I heard his story, my mind immediatly shot back to what I went through. And how I, (I believe) was this persons intended victim.

So the moral of this story?

There is none. Given the same situation, I would do it again. In fact, in my last congregation I found myself in the same situation from time to time, working alone in the ministry. But every door I've come to, I know that I'm really not alone. This work is under heavenly direction. Maturity has told me that everything I do must now must be done with a "spirit of a sound mind" so I'm more cautious. However the brushes I have with death don't compare with the brushes with life I'm presented with each day, along with the hope of living forever.

I hope one day I will be found worthy to tell this story personally to the lady who lost her life at this maniac hands.

May that be your hope as well.


As told by Tom Petroff