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Updated: Mar 29

In February of 1976, my husband accepted the position of Pastor at a church in Combes, Texas. We packed our older model car, a U-Haul truck, a five-year-old, and a two-year-old and headed south from Sherman, Texas. Sherman is on the Oklahoma border and Combes is on the Mexico border. That is a 580-mile 9-hour drive and we were determined to do it in one day.

About 8 p.m. we changed our minds. We were exhausted and still had about 2 hours to go when we arrived in Kingsville, Texas. Ron pulled over at the Holiday Inn and I followed his lead. Remember there were no cell phones then so you couldn’t discuss your plans or chat your way down the road.

We had never heard of the Lower Rio Grande Valley, or about Winter Texans. In fact, we had never been past San Antonio. We were not prepared for a ‘no room in the inn’ response from the Holiday Inn manager. After a quick phone call to the people in Combes, we got back on the road, and that is the last thing I remember. From Kingsville to the Combes exit 2 hours later I have no recollection of anything. All I remember is I pulled off in Combes to a well-lit parsonage where about a dozen people were waiting to feed us and unload our truck. They set up the beds, put on the sheets, and made sure we were comfortable for the night. It was obvious to me that God wanted us in Combes because he sent an angel to drive me there. This may be hard to believe but no one can change my mind as to how this happened.

Anne Corzine

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Unknown member
Aug 16, 2023

Great story of life! Marti has many about our military moves and snags that occurred.

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