I was a twenty-three year old truck-stop waitress and had been smoking for ten years. Newly married with a baby at home, it was time for me to get a job, and I was thrust into a world where most of my customers as well as the wait staff smoked. We’d take our orders, put them up for the cook, go over to the coffee machine, take a drag, pour the customers some coffee, take another long drag, and take the coffee to their tables. That was my life. Serve and smoke, drive home and smoke, sleep, get up and smoke and head off to work to do the same thing again…
Elvin, Smoke and Me
Until Elvin Hess walked into the door of the restaurant. He was a truck driver out of Pennsylvania and was like most other truckers, except for one very significant thing. He had an air of peace and joy about him that permeated my world rather sharply. He normally walked up to the counter and ordered a coffee and donut and didn’t really say much, but I noticed when he would talk to others inevitably their conversation would center on the Lord. This intrigued me as most talk of Jesus with truck drivers was not normally of a positive nature. After a few weeks, I worked up the nerve to ask him about his faith, and gently, 
yet firmly, he shared. My interest was piqued and I started thinking about my own personal relationship with the Lord. I had accepted the Lord as my Savior at an early age, but as happens sometimes, I had let the relationship wane. Jesus hadn’t. Each time Mr. Hess arrived we talked; and our conversation came to the point where I’d look forward to seeing him and discussing various topics about the Lord. I knew I needed to make a decision and make the effort to restore the fractured cord between my Savior and myself. Having done that, there came a day when I heard the Lord speak to my spirit, “Daughter, you can’t serve Me and smoke.” What a jolt that was to my still self-centered personality. Unmistakably, I knew our continued close fellowship depended on my obedience to His will, so I responded, “Okay, Lord, I’ll quit smoking, but you’re going to have to do it for me. I can’t do it on my own.”
The Smell of a Smoke-Free Life
I felt His loving smile, and without thinking a second thought I threw the cigarettes out the window of my car. It wasn’t easy. Even at only 50 cents a pack I depended on those cigarettes to relax me after a hard day at the restaurant and responsibilities at home. Little did I realize how foul smelling was the cigarette smoke. Several weeks after quitting, I began to notice what a filthy stink it gave off. It infiltrated everything: clothing, furniture, my baby’s clothing, the curtains, and the car upholstery. I was amazed at how comfortable I had become to such stench. Yet, by this time, I had been away from it so long that my senses began to come back to life and I knew I had to intensify my efforts. To keep my focus on Him, each time I wanted a cigarette I’d start to sing the songs I’d learned in Sunday school. At those intense times when I’d typically smoke – when I went to pour a cup of coffee for a customer, or sat down on the couch at home to watch TV and relax, or driving to and from work – the more I craved that menthol drag, the louder I’d sing (well, at least in the car). Slowly, day by day, the Lord replaced my desire to smoke with more of His presence. For me, breathing fresh air became a very pleasant and joyful event. I began to really appreciate the fragrance of my baby boy, the cleanness of newly washed clothing and, more importantly, the freshness of a restored friendship with my Father. Not only were my physical senses enlivened, my spiritual senses filled me with a renewed life like I’d not experienced since I’d asked Jesus to come into my heart.
Tempted and Tried
Have I been tempted to smoke since? You bet I have. About five years after quitting, I was working in another state at a nursing home and my supervisor smoked. One day when she had left the office I thought, “I want to just try it to see if I still like it,” and I took one of her half-smoked cigarettes and went to the bathroom, lit up and took a couple draws. Oooh, yes, it was so good. Then I realized what I’d done and a fear came over me so strongly that I instantly ran the burning tip under the water faucet and threw it away. I sank to the floor in abject fear. The fear came of remembering what it was I would be giving up to start smoking again. A Love so deep, so clean, so enriching, was not One to be taken lightly. I cherished the new breath of life He had filled me with, and even though Satan has tried to tempt me back into that putrid lifestyle, I have never even considered smoking again. I just keep singing His praises.
