Wisdom and Grace: Memories of Easter Sunday many years ago

Funny, isn't it, how something suddenly triggers a memory that you haven't thought of in years? Such was the case when I was working the 2020 Census. Part of the area I surveyed was the Rocky Boy's Indian Reservation. One day I entered the reservation via Taylor Road on the east side. Much later in the day, I left the area at Box Elder. Turning onto Highway 87, I glanced to my right and then I saw it. A floodgate of memories deluged my innermost being. I pulled over and wept.

I saw an abandoned gas station.

My mind went back to 1957. It was Easter, and my mother, Gertrude Whaley, had taken my sister Myrna, brother Delbert and myself to Great Falls to spend the holiday with my father Wesley Whaley. Dad was in the midst of a battle to save his right leg which had been broken in December of 1955 when he was bucked off a horse. All together he would spend three years in the hospital, enduring 21 operations in an effort to save his leg.

But it was Easter. Dad was released temporarily from the hospital and able to stay the night with us in the Johnson Hotel on Central Avenue. We were so excited not only to see our dad but to spend this very special holiday with him. On Saturday night we drove around and around the hotel looking for a parking place where dad could hobble on his crutches to the Johnson Hotel. In desperation, mom and dad finally decided to park at a Conoco gas station near the hotel. The gas station was closed for the night and the next day was Easter Sunday. There probably was a "No Parking" sign but surely it would be okay because the station was closed ... and frankly there were no other alternatives.

On Easter Sunday we dressed in our best clothes. Mom had brought dad's suit and despite the cast on his leg and the crutches, Dad was just as handsome as I have always remembered him to be. After breakfast, we headed to the car and onto Easter Services.

We arrived at the Conoco station and unlocked the doors. Mom put the key in the ignition and turned it over. It sputtered and sputtered but it would not start. Dad (more a rancher than ever a mechanic) got out of the car with his cast and crutches. He lifted the hood and proceeded to do his best to get the car going. Try as he might, he could not get the car started. Minutes and then hours passed and it became evident there would be no Easter services for the Whaley family that day. My mother was in tears and probably all of us kids were, also.

Then about noon, a car pulled up and a man stepped out. "This your car?" he asked. "Didn't you see the 'No Parking' sign? I'm sick of people staying at that hotel and parking in my gas station?" Then it became very evident that this man had done something to our car so it wouldn't start! He reached into engine, did something and then said, "There. I fixed it. Get on your way and don't park here again." Dad and mom tried talking to him to apologize but it was useless. He stomped away never acknowledging the man in a cast on crutches.

We dropped Dad off at the hospital. We kids couldn't go with him to his room because children weren't allowed to do that in 1957. I remember hugging him and crying and saying goodbye, not sure when we would see him again.

With mom driving, we headed back to our home north of Havre. But the car was not running well. It spit and sputtered at every incline (and there are plenty of those between Great Falls and Havre). At times it would die completely and we would have to sit on the side of the road before it would start again. Spitting and sputtering we made it to Fort Benton and then onto Loma and Big Sandy. Finally, at Box Elder the car refused to go any further and we "coasted" into the gas station at Box Elder. The station was closed. There were no phones to call for help.

Mom kept saying, "I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do." Then she turned to us and said, "Pray." And pray we did.

About five minutes later, a car went past headed towards Great Falls. Then the car turned around and came back. It pulled up to us and a tall man dressed in his Easter Sunday suit got out and walked towards us. "Do you need some help?" he inquired. And miracle of miracles he knew us and we knew him! It was Francis Hatler! His parents and relatives attended Sixth Avenue Christian Church like we did! He was on his way back to Great Falls from visiting his parents for Easter. "Let me see what I can do." And for the next hour or so, as the sun was setting, Francis worked under the hood of our car. Finally, Francis emerged filthy from his head, nearly to his toes. His Easter Sunday suit was soiled and wreaked of gasoline. "Give it a try," he told Mom.

She turned over the ignition and the motor purred to life. We bid Francis farewell and we were on our way.

The story does not end there. My mother never let anything alone if it truly needed to be dealt with. Very soon a letter was on its way to Conoco headquarters in Texas explaining about the Conoco station, my father's medical condition and the heroism of Francis Hatler.

About two weeks later a car drove into our yard. It was Ervin Pehlke, owner of the Conoco station in Havre. "Mrs. Whaley," he said, "On behalf of our company, we are very sorry for what happened to you in Great Falls on Easter Sunday. Here is a check for $50 from our company. In addition, we are arranging to have Mr. Hatler's suit dry cleaned. And the man in Great Falls who caused this trouble has been removed from his position and will never again be associated with Conoco."

And all this came back to me because I took a second look at that abandoned gas stationed in Box Elder. It was there we desperately prayed for help. It was there that God sent Francis Hatler to rescue us. I shall never again pass that old gas station in Box Elder without saying, "Thank you God and thank you Francis Hatler. And thank you Mr. Pehlke and Conoco for great customer service."

Mark 16: 6 – "Don't be alarmed," he said, "You are looking for Jesus the Nazarene, who was crucified. He has risen! He is not here. See the place where they laid him. But go, tell the disciples and Peter."

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Ila McClenahan is a retired chaplain and activity director living in the Amos area north of Havre. She keeps busy writing, speaking at various events and trying to be a good grandmother.