Right place, Right time
God has a way of allowing us to be
in the right place at the right time. I was walking down a dimly lit street late
one evening when I heard muffled screams coming from behind a clump of bushes.
Alarmed, I slowed down to listen and panicked when I realized that what I was
hearing were unmistakable sounds of a struggle: heavy grunting, frantic
scuffling and tearing of fabric. Only yards from where I stood, a woman was
being attacked. Should I get involved? I was frightened for my own safety and
cursed myself for having suddenly decided to take a new route home that night.
What if I became another statistic? Shouldn't I just run to the nearest phone
and call the police? Although it seemed an eternity, the deliberations in my
head had taken only seconds, but already the cries were growing weaker. I knew I
had to act fast. How could I walk away from this? No, I finally resolved, I
could not turn my back on the fate of this unknown woman, even if it meant
risking my own life. I am not a brave man, nor am I athletic. I don't know where
I found the moral courage and physical strength-but once I had finally resolved
to help the girl, I became strangely transformed. I ran behind the bushes and
pulled the assailant off the woman. Grappling, we fell to the ground, where we
wrestled for a few minutes until the attacker jumped up and escaped. Panting
hard, I scrambled upright and approached the girl, who was crouched behind a
tree, sobbing. In the darkness, I could barely see her outline, but I could
certainly sense her trembling shock Not wanting to frighten her further, I at
first spoke to her from a distance. "It's OK," I said soothingly. "The man ran
away. You're safe now." There was a long pause and then I heard the words,
uttered in wonder, in amazement. "Dad, is that you?" And then, from behind the
tree, stepped my youngest daughter, Katherine.
