“A Biker’s Love Affair: A Story of Salvation”
“A Biker’s Love Affair: A Story of Salvation”
By Dolores Elam
A cancer diagnosis. A fire. The death of a beloved spouse. Anyone of these would be enough to make someone question their faith, but after experiencing all three in the past two years my faith is stronger than ever. I’ve claimed my miracle and every day I see the undeniable presence of God.
It started on February 5, 2015, when my husband Wayne was diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer. I slipped my hand into his and squeezed as we walked out of the hospital. The doctors told us that Wayne had six months to live, and I only had another half a year to hold the hand of the man I loved.
Faced with that terrifying reality, my faith kicked in and I claimed my miracle for Wayne. Two years later I was still able to hold his hand — Praise Jesus.
By December 17, 2017, Wayne was in hospice care at home. That night my son woke me up.
“Quick Mom, the house is on fire,” he hissed, terror in his voice.
We grabbed Wayne under his arms and escaped through a side porch, trying to avoid the hot flames and the crackling roar of the fire. I worried Wayne’s truck was going to blow up in front of us, or the oxygen tanks we stored out on the porch. I ran out to the neighborhood in my bare feet and PJs screaming to the sky in a most agonizing voice, “God, please, please help us!”
At first, I thought He was nowhere in sight. Finally, help came. I was led to a neighbor’s home where Wayne was. I lay beside him. My throat was so singed I could hardly talk, sobbing uncontrollably I assured him everything is going to be okay.
The lady of the house gave me a pair of boots to wear, and when I slipped them on, they fit perfectly. From that moment — even as I went to the hospital and realized that my home was lost — everything was perfect. Days later, my sons went to the house to see what could be salvaged. Later, they presented me with my wedding album. I cried and cried, holding it close to my heart, thanking Jesus.
I was homeless, with nothing left, caring for my terminally-ill husband. Still, more of God’s miracles came. After many phone calls searching for housing, I learned that there was an apartment available for the elderly, but it was for women only. However, one of the board members was my best friend’s mother, and she convinced them to make an exception for Wayne. He was the first man who lived there in 90 years!
With housing taken care of — friends, family, and strangers brought us food and clothing. They donated cash and set up a fundraiser. The undeniable love of God was in the air, with more miracles happening than I can name here.
Although our time in the Frances Tolles House was filled with miracles, Wayne worried. His cancer had spread to his brain and he was concerned over funeral costs, who would take care of me, would I be okay financially?
On February 5, 2017 — Super Bowl Sunday — I watched Wayne take his last two breaths. My beloved husband of 51 years had gone to Jesus. The significance of Wayne passing on that day wasn’t lost. Millions of people had given up on the Patriots staging a comeback, yet they did. Wayne — faced with so many hurdles — could have given up on his faith but he never gave up. No matter what battles you are facing, fight the fight of faith, and never ever give up! Miracles await you.
All Wayne’s worrying was for not. I have money from the fundraiser, and friends, family and complete strangers to sustain me. I love my home at the Tolles House. Wayne had a beautiful funeral, burial plot, and stone. And who looks after me? God has been my source for all things. As a servant to him, I give him all the glory for the wonderful ending and miracles that took place in this tragic story.
However, God is not done with me yet. Recently, I was going through the box my children had salvaged from the fire. In addition to my wedding album, it had my bible, photos, and poetry I wrote in the 90s. As I rumbled through the box an index card flies out. On it is a poem I wrote 24 years ago: “A Biker’s Love Affair: A story of Salvation.”
When I lived in Myrtle Beach, every May I would hear the roaring sound of motorcycle thunder. I was in awe of the beauty of the bikes and the men and women who rode them. I could feel the love between them, which inspired the poem. After reading it 24 years later I saw the opportunity to be a witness to God’s glory for others’ salvation. The next thing I knew I had a website made specifically for bikers who could use this poem to spread the Word. I don’t know what will come next. God has assigned me to this part of my journey. Would any of you like to follow with me and see what God’s plan is for us?
Love to you all,
Sister in Christ, Dolores