His name: Dale Buttenhoff. He rose early about six years
ago. It was a foggy March morning. He wiped the sleep from his eyes. In the
bathroom water was splashed on his face. The coffee finished perking on the
automatic coffee maker. He poured a cup, sipped its hotness through drawn lips.
Looking out the window he noticed the street lamp casting a halo in the fog.
“It’s a good day to die,” he thought.
Dale Buttenhoff was tired of his life of self-abuse. For years he’d used drugs.
His wife had left. He was estranged from his family. It was too much to take.
There was no reason to live.
Cranking his car he drove carefully to the Ross Island Bridge which spanned the
Willamette River. It was a good day to die.
But someone else was also planning to utilize the Willamette River that day.
The Pink Phoenix, a boating team composed of women who had survived breast
cancer, were making a practice run on the choppy waters that morning.
Dale Buttenhoff leaped from the rail of the bridge. Downward he plunged. He hit
the water right beside the boat of the Pink Phoenix. They sprang into action,
pulling Dale from the water and returning him to shore. These women, survivors
all, knew the kind of despair that would lead a person to take his own life.
They “adopted” Dale into their support system. They visited him in the hospital
and brought him gifts.
Dale recovered from his injuries. He entered a rehab program. He established
contact with his estranged daughter. Today he’s studying to be a counselor in a
drug rehabilitation center. He also keeps in touch with the members of the Pink
Phoenix. He says, “I want them to know what they did was not in vain.”
Oh for a church whose pews are filled with folks like those Pink Phoenix
ladies, folks who reach out to those in need.
Lord, when someone splashes into the waters of despair right beside my boat
help me remember when I was drowning and reach out to help. Amen.
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