Marshall Ramsey

The taste of fame had a bitter aftertaste.  At age 19, his band had signed a record contract and had a minor hit.  An unfortunate car wreck, drugs and poor choices led to the band’s breakup one year later.  He had been chasing after a fading dream ever since.

He spent the next few years of his life driving while looking in the rearview mirror.  And the damage he caused because of it was legendary.  Anyone — and anything — in his way was sure to be destroyed.  Anger, Scotch and self pity fueled him on a mad march to the bottom.  At age 45, he was burned out and walking away from music for what he thought was good.

The music inside of him had fallen silent.  And it took and angel to bring it back out of him.

They met on an elevator.  He tried to stare at the numbers but couldn’t help notice her smile. She was in her black cocktail dress and stunningly beautiful. He was grungy looking as always. Her face lit up with pure joy when she looked into his eyes.  A couple of stale jokes and a nervous shuffle, he held the door as she walked out into the crowd.  The elevator had gone down five floors and his heart had risen three. Now she was walking away for good.  Just his luck.

Fate has a funny way of mending old wounds.  They ended up sitting at the same banquet table that night. The chicken was rubber but the company was golden.  Small talk grew to larger topics.  Phone numbers were exchanged and calls were made.  He could have asked for a better person for him — but there wasn’t one on the earth.  A quick marriage was followed by a baby girl.  At 46, he was a first-time dad.

He looked down at his angel sleeping in the crib.  Life had handed him so many disappointments — but now, well now life had made up for all the past wrongs.  She was beautiful. She was perfect. She was his little girl.

He walked out of her room and opened the hall closet. In there was an old friend named Martin.  He opened up the case and pulled out his old acoustic guitar.  He quietly tuned the strings and began to strum three simple chords.  Then it happened — somewhere inside of him, the music came back alive.  He  began to softly sing to his angel.  Music’s joy wrapped its arms around him held him as all the past pain evaporated.

Over time he began to write songs again.  Songs of joy. Songs of thankfulness.  He quit burying his talent and put it to song.  Self pity melted like ice in the desert. An agent got a couple of his songs recorded.  Several top country acts were soon recording his new work.  And then he got the call to join one of the groups on stage.

As he played at The Grand Ol’ Opry that night, he looked out into the audience and he could see his wife and baby daughter.  Although this was technically his night, it was really theirs. Their love had fixed him like a restrung old guitar.  As he strummed his latest songs, he finally figured out what true success really meant.

Success was the stories that came from your heart, not money or fame.  He smiled. That’d sound good in a minor chord.

A small Japanese sedan sped down a rural Mississippi highway. A sleepy driver looked down for a split second to change the channel on his radio.

It’s funny how a split second can change your life.

The car radio had become too complex. iPods, CD’s Satellite and terrestrial radio stations — there were too many choices.  He looked down for 30 seconds to find which button to press. He never saw the truck.

Locals say you could hear the collision nearly a mile away.

The paramedics finally managed to pry him out of the wreck.  Bones were shattered and copious amounts of blood had been lost. Dreams were scattered among the debris on the pavement.  The driver woke briefly as he was being pulled from the wreck and then lost consciousness again.

A man fought for his life. And it was a fight in which he would lose several rounds over the next few minutes.

As the ambulance wailed down the deserted road, its siren faded into a voice. The voice of his grandfather who appeared before him in brilliant white.  The man felt a peace like he had never felt. So this is death?  It’s not so bad. This grandfather held out his hand.

A jarring brought him back to this plain. “WE’RE LOSING HIM!” he heard one of the paramedics yell.

It had come down to this.  A moment’s distraction and a head-on collision. Life can change in 30 seconds.  All the careful plans. All the dreams. All left crumpled in a mass of airbags and Japanese steel.

His grandfather appeared again.  “Do you want to come with me?” his ghostly voice inquired.  It was strange, but the old man’s mouth didn’t move.

“Yes. But no.  I have so much work to do here. I have children to raise. I have love to still love.”

The glowing old man held out his hand again and another jar brought him back.

The man had a decision to make.  God would take him if his purpose on this Earth was complete. But he knew it wasn’t. He saw the faces of his small children.  He knew their mother would struggle raising them alone. And he didn’t even want to think of another man shaping his sons into men.  “God give me strength. I want to truly live,” his mind plead.

His grandfather reappeared. “You have been heard.  I will be here for you when your time comes.  There will be much joy when you join us.  And you will have peace. But if you go back, you have to truly live. You are being given a second chance.”

“I promise,” the driver said. “I promise to live my life to the fullest.”

Another jar brought him back.

“HE JUST SAID SOMETHING,” one of the paramedics yelled. “He’s still alive!”

He blinked and saw the blurry images of the paramedics feverishly working on him. The battered man felt like a baby who was halfway born.  Caught between two words and crumpled.  Crumpled — it would take him months before he could walk again. But he’d defy the doctors. A burning desire to LIVE would be lit inside of him.  His rehab took half the time that he was scheduled for. Minutes became precious — he grasped onto each one of them like they were precious pearls.

Thirty seconds. That’s all it took for him to look down at a radio and change his life completely.  The truck had hit him and knocked him out of his comfort zone. Hard. But he had made a choice to stay on this earth and finish his mission.

His life had changed on that rural Mississippi road. And after nearly dying, he finally began living.  And in his wallet he kept a picture. A picture to remind him of his promise. It was a photo of his grandfather.  A man he knew that he’d see again soon.