Don't Open the Spine-Chilling-Terrifying Door

Don't Open the Spine-Chilling-Terrifying Door

     Vicki was a widowed bookkeeper.  I knew her from church and had always felt she was one of the sweetest and most-all-together women I'd ever known.  She had met a widower who said he had an in-home business and hired her to do his taxes.  After several meetings going over his taxes he invited her for dinner.

     She described Philip as tall, handsome and very quiet.  In fact she said, "I think he must be an introvert.  A really deep introvert."  After about six months of dating he proposed to her.  She accepted and the church women tried to give her a shower.  But Vicki said they had decided to not have a special service but were going to fly to Reno and get married that weekend.

     That was about three weeks ago.  And already she had made an appointment for counseling.  She was as on edge as any human I've ever known.  She could barely sit still to explain what was going on.  I waited patiently and silently.  I watched her eyes and nervous twitches of her limbs and wondered if she needed to see a Neurologist instead of a Counselor.  But with her rapid speech, darting glances and near hysteria, I chose not to interrupt her and listened intently instead.

     I always pray before a counseling session that the Lord would help me understand the true needs of the person.  Then during the session sometimes when I'm unsure of how to frame the right words to assist someone to make the best decisions for the difficulties they're facing I pray silently asking the Lord to supply the solution.  I learned this early on in my years of counseling hurting hearts.  God always comes through.  But sometimes I get impatient and try it on my own.  Not smart.  Grade me a D- for that.

"God, the one and only -- I’ll wait as long as he says.  Everything I need comes from him, so why not?" (Psalms 62:1, The Message)

     "Wait" in this verse is an unusual original word.  It doesn't mean take a nap or spend several days and then God will give the answer.  It means, "pause for His message."  So I learned to pause with anticipation that the answer would often come before the counseling session was over.

     I could tell Vicki was desperate and my heart really desired to help her.

     She began.  "We never visited his house when we were dating as he was remodeling it.  But when we returned from Reno he said we're moving into the house now.  I was excited and looked forward to it.

     As we started to get out of the car he said, "Vicki...there is something you can not do."

     "What?"

     "You can not go into the garage for any reason.  Promise me you won't."

     She figured he must have his office out there.  Or, maybe he was making her a Christmas present or something.  But she kept her word and never went into the garage. 

     Vicki continued, "He would spend most afternoons in the garage.  In the evenings we would watch TV after dinner and sleep in a Queen bed in a pretty plain looking bedroom.  I saw no indications of a woman's touch anywhere and found the house to be drab and depressing."

     After about a month he told her at dinner, "I have a surprise for you.  I will show it to you in the garage at bedtime." 

     Vicki began shaking uncontrollable as she tried to continue.  But her voice froze as her eyes projected intense fear.  "I...I...I...just didn't..."  Her lips locked tightly.  She couldn't speak.

     "Vicki, I'm here to help you.  I took her hand and whispered, "Try to tell me what was in the garage."

     Wiping her eyes, sighing deeply, she said, "It was dark and I didn't see them until he shined a small flashlight on the first one."

     "The first ... what?"

     "It was a large... wooden rectangular... object." 

     I could see her straining just to speak each word.

     "It was a wooden box I thought.  But then he reached up and tapped the top of the box and a lid slowly opened.  And a soft light came on." 

     Vicki wept and excused herself to go powder her nose.

     Curiosity really held my attention.  I spent the time pleading with the Lord for understanding and that she would be able to recover enough to continue.

     She returned. 

     "Please tell me more, Vicki."

     "He pulled a small stepladder over and told me to step up and look inside."

     "Oh, No, I don't want to do that," I told him.

     He said, "You're my wife and I made this for you."

     Then he lifted me onto the stepladder and before I knew it I was looking down inside that box.

     It wasn't an empty box.  It had a mattress, pillow and blankets and a small light.

     Vicki uttered loudly.  "It was a casket.  And there was another one beside it."

     I screamed at him, "What on earth are you doing?"

     Vicki, "I built these for us so we can sleep in them each night.  Tonight will be our first night."

     I couldn't believe it.  What on earth was going on?  I had never heard of such a thing.  Never.

     "He told me to go get ready for bed and that he would help me get in.  I went back into the house, grabbed my things, put on my coat and drove to a relative's house.  I will never go back." 

     She wanted to move a zillion miles away.  She was terrified.  She was temporarily staying at a relative's house.   But she knew she had a problem... they had gotten married.  How would the Lord accept her for leaving her husband?

     Then... she pondered... and asked if I would go talk to him.  I felt inadequate for the task, but she persisted and I sensed the Lord was telling me to do it. 

     I sure couldn't see what good it would do.  But, Vicki was between a rock and a hard place.  I must try.

     When I phoned he immediately asked if his wife would be coming with me.  I said, "Not today, but let's visit first."  I visited for a few moments with him in the modest-sized living room.  With an indescribable smile he asked me if I'd like to see the whole house.  So he gave me the grand tour.  Yes, the garage also.

     In the daylight I quickly saw the boxes.  Indeed they were caskets.  I knew that Vicki's nightmare was indeed a real-life, bizarre horror event.  I told him I was going to leave and would see myself out.

     As I skipped down the front porch steps a man quickly approached and shoved papers in my face.  "Ha, you can't avoid me forever.  You've been served, Philip."  I glanced at the paper and realized it was a Court Summons for Philip.  In fact there were two summons.  I told the Server, "You've got the wrong man.  I'm not Philip... he's in the garage."  I showed him my driver's license and business card.

     He swore at his difficulty serving Philip.  He said, "He refuses to accept service.  I can see he's home but he won't answer the door."

     I figured the two Summons were for unpaid debts until the Process Server muttered, "Can you believe this creep?  He is a bigamist.  His last two wives have been trying to get their valuables back and he won't accept the divorce papers."

     Mercifully it turned out that he was not a widower as he had claimed but was still married to two other women... whom he had recently tricked and who had fled for their lives and he had never divorced them and refused to accept service of their attorney's papers. 

     I knew then why I had been sent to meet Philip.  He had "married" Vicki fraudulently.  He was still married to two other women whom I suspect had fled for their lives as well.

     You may think this is a vampire fiction tale.  It is not.  It is the true story of one woman's plight when she re-married.  An attorney took care of Vicki's entanglement.  Today she is, once again, the sweetest, most all-together woman I've ever known.

     Displayed above my head in my counseling office is a mounted copy of this painting by the late Harry Anderson which my wife purchased more than 20 years ago.  

     Not only did folks I counseled see it, but it was a continual reminder to me of who the ineffable Great Counselor is. 

Who Am I

Casting Crowns

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