(Written By Bob Lonsberry on December 15th 2010. View the full article at

As I ran up to him, the first thing I noticed was the Bible.
It was small, a pocket-sized book, in black leather. It had apparently been knocked out of his clothing when the car hit him, and had landed beside him in the snow, down off the shoulder of the road.
That was yesterday, a few minutes after 7 in the morning.

The weather conditions on that December day.

It was frigid and there was accumulation and black ice and two cars had slid off the busy Interstate. He had stopped and gotten out to help.

He had been on the way to work, with his son, and he saw the motorists who needed help and he stopped. Countless others of us drove on by. But he stopped. And got out in the blizzard and was going to render aid when out of nowhere came a vehicle.
He was struck and thrown and he landed where I found him, motionless in the snow, by his Bible.

There was a young man standing above him. A nurse from Strong Memorial Hospital was also there, and maybe another man, motorists who had stopped to render aid.

I knelt by the man in the snow. I could find no pulse in his right wrist. The nurse could find no pulse in his left wrist. She felt at his neck and I counted his breaths.
They were the breaths of someone struggling to stay alive….
I asked the young man what had happened and he told me, and he told me that the man was his father.
He looked to be in his late teens or early 20s. He was well groomed and in business clothes. And his father was at his feet. It struck me what

a horror he must be enduring. I asked him if he would pray for us, and he squatted beside his father and we three bowed our heads as he prayed and said “Amen” when he was done.

Bob Lonsberry aiding Mr. Parfitt after the accident.

The exact details of what followed are kind of blurred in my mind, but a lady called 911 on her cell phone and I asked her if I could speak to the dispatcher. I tried to describe the gravity of the man’s condition and I told her we’d need Mercy Flight. It was a foolish request, given the conditions, and she kindly told me that they couldn’t launch in the blizzard. Then I told her that we’d need the county fly car and she told me that it was on its way.
He had a jacket on with the name of his company on it. The ID tag clipped to his shirt said that his name was Ken. Though he was unresponsive, I talked to him and called him by name and encouraged him and told him what was happening….
….As the minutes passed, various passersby brought coats and blankets from their cars to lay over the man. One gentleman took the coat off his back and covered the man with it. Then he took off his gloves and put them over the man’s hands.

At a certain point, the man’s wife arrived. She had been called by the son and, their home apparently being close, had arrived quickly.

Holding her husband's hand later that day in the hospital.

“Where is he?” I heard her say. “He is my husband.”

I looked up when I heard those words, and saw a woman walking toward us. I was dreading her arrival. I did not want her to see or experience this. I could not imagine the pain and sorrow inherent in a situation like this.

She was dressed as conservative Christian women sometimes are, in a long dress, it might have been denim, and I think her hair was long and up on her head.
As she approached us, she was calm and business like. She asked how he was and what had happened.

Then she knelt and began to pray.
She may have held his hand, she may have leaned in toward his head. As she spoke, I cast my eyes down and reverently listened. She addressed God. Whether she called him “Dear Lord” or “Heavenly Father” or something else, I can’t recall. But she addressed him, and then she thanked him.
And she offered him praise.
Her words were not words of pleading, they were words of praise and gratitude.
And then she said something like, “If today you wish to call him home and take him from us – thy will be done.”
Thy will be done.

His body was broken, but his testimony and his family's faith was strong!

The line from the Lord’s Prayer. The hardest part of faith. At a moment when most of us would be begging God to give us what we want – to spare us our loved one – she asked the Lord to do his will, what he wanted. She trusted him, and had faith in him.

Where could there be a truer test or demonstration of faith than in the snow beside the broken and near lifeless body of your sweetheart and spouse? In that situation, there can be no pretense, no show, only the heartfelt honesty of a soul in direct communion with its Creator.
And in her moment of test, in her own Gethsemane, she literally prayed, like her Savior before her, not my will, but thine, be done.
But if it was not his time to die, if the Lord did not want to call him home, she asked for his life, for her and their children, and strength through the weeks of hospitalization and recovery.

And then she asked that this event would be turned to the glory of God, that somehow it could touch the heart of someone, that someone might find Jesus, that someone might come to salvation.

And that was her prayer.

Ken Parfitt being put in an ambulance for the long ride to the hospital.

While I listened for this man’s breaths, and rescuers sped on slippery roads, and

neighbor helped neighbor.

Soon I saw a deputy and a trooper, and then a fire truck in the far lanes, and then

firefighters around us

and finally an ambulance.
They were angels in turnout gear.
They came with such a competence and earnestness…..
….In a minor and unskilled way, they needed an extra set of hands, so I climbed into the ambulance with them as the doors closed and the rig pulled out……

…..In the back of the rig, I noticed in the pocket of the man’s shirt six or seven little tracts, religious pamphlets, about the true meaning of Christmas. The sort of thing that religious people pass out inviting others to get saved. As they pulled the gurney out of the rig at the Strong ED, the tracts fell to the floor of the ambulance, wet from the melting snow and stained with the man’s blood.

A picture of one of the many times that he shared the love of Jesus with others.

Later, I would recount this story on the radio, and receive e-mails from coworkers and church members. People who knew him and loved him.
He always carried the Bible and the tracts, they said. And he was the nicest guy they knew. He would do anything for anybody and he and his wife had eight children.
And for the past three years, he and his sons had built with their own hands a house for the family. A house for which they had only recently been granted a certificate of occupancy – a permit for the family to move in and begin its dream life.
He was a good man, doing a good thing, and that didn’t surprise anybody. He came to be hurt because he came to the rescue.
When I went to bed last night, his condition was very grave and prayer requests were echoing across the Internet.
And I couldn’t help but think of the verse from the Gospel of John.
“Greater love hath no man than this,” it reads, “that a man lay down his life for his friends.”
That happened on a cross once, and on battlefields countless times, and sometimes it happens on the side of the road.
I saw something sacred yesterday, and I hope I have communicated it adequately.

I hope I have done my part to help answer a good woman’s prayer.

– by Bob Lonsberry © 2010


Here is a little more about this story.

Mr. Parfitt was on his way to work, with Allen, his oldest son.  Allen was reading to him from God’s word when a car near to them started acting strange, and then went off the road!  They pulled over and went down an incline to make sure the driver was all right. Then they went back up to their car. Allen got in the passenger side, and his father went to get in the driver’s side, but before he could, a truck which had lost control hit the car, and him. He went flying, and landed in the snow. Somehow, the Bible Allen had been reading out of ended up beside him, which was fitting, because his life was wrapped up in the God of that Book.  Allen later told me that the last words he actually remembers hearing his father say to him as they rode in the car that morning were “If you don’t read your Bible every day, you won’t make it.”  That is the kind of gift Ken Parfitt left when he went to be with the Lord the next day, December 15th 2010.

Working on a paper for His Bible Institute class, a paper that was read at his memorial service.

Always using his time wisely. Working with his children and some friends on an outside project.

………During his memorial service, which was one of the most incredible of its kind, person after person talked about how he made it a point to live so that everyone knew he belonged to God.  He wanted to make sure no one at his workplace was confused about what he believed.  He worked diligently on his house with his children, teaching them what it meant to work hard, and even to enjoy it. He has left a family of servants, who will continue to serve others as God leads them to different needs.

Building their house together a little at a time.

Being an example to his children as they work on their house.

The joke of the day was that he hadn’t finished his house after several years of working on it because most of his free days were used up helping other people move or fix things! He was a man who served; he was a man who gave; he was a man who prayed.  He was a man of God. Humble, unassuming, with a quick wit, and a dry sense of humor that, if you were quick enough to get it, sent you into peals of laughter often in the middle of church or choir practice!
He loved his Lord, he loved his family, and he loved those around him.

Let the life of this man remind us that our time is short, our God is big, and our love for Him can change more lives than we will ever know, or imagine!

Worshiping God together.