In 1990, I arrived at my psychology class; my professor had distributed the first writing assignment. The topic had firmly read: Your Scariest Experience. One memory, from eighteen months prior, stood out fiercely. It was an experience that spanned a few seconds, but it confusingly felt like hours.
I sat in a quiet corner of the library, and began to write.
I remembered thinking, Why is she so late? While I waited on my sister, thirty plus minutes ticked by, when I had decided to walk the two mile stretch home. I recalled the warm breeze and the dust of air that had grazed me with dirt from passing cars. I was confident that my sister would see me walking.
There was only the straight route to my house, and it included a freeway underpass. I was usually in major thought when I walked home, but the site of two younger girls captured my attention. Their steadfast pace and the shuffle of their backpacks appeared a little odd. When they reached me, it was clear they wanted to get home.
I overheard one girl say, “Just keep walking.”
“Is everything Okay?”
There was no answer and they kept going. I was redirected to a man under the freeway pass where I would be walking. He had appeared to be working on his car, or something of that sort. When I had reached the underpass, his appeal for help came.
“Hey, would you help me with something?”
I wanted to be helpful, but my thought was how strange. The man handed me a wire. He told me to hold it steady while he tightened something from the outside of the passenger door, while I knelt down on the inside. My brother immediately came to mind, for I had watched him work on cars for years. I didn’t know what the man was trying to do, but my notion came to be that there was nothing to fix. My realization had prompted me to leave, and I started to turn around.
“Get off of me!”
He stood behind me and clasped his fingers onto my backpack. His arms were slightly raised above my shoulders, and I had felt the jerky motion as he pushed and pulled me. He was fighting to get me in the car, and I was fighting to stay out.
My yelp had started with an, “Ah,” and then transformed into a shrill. My fingers gripped with God’s might to the edge of the door frame. It was my backpack that had kept him at a distance, enough to help me maintain my grip. I remembered thinking, if he gets me in the car, I’m dead.
I was facing the street. Cars were whizzing by, and there was no help. Still, my hands gripped with God’s might, and the sound of tire traction echoed in my ear from the passing cars. I had peered to my right looking for refuge, and a police car came into view. Time had appeared to be moving in slow motion, and I noticed the officer was looking straight ahead. So did the man. “Help, me!” I screeched out in desperation, and thought, he didn’t see me. Why?
Instantly, the man’s grip retreated. The officer had kept going. There were no signs of him slowing or stopping.
I backed up quickly to the underpass wall. He was then in front of me. He hung his arms down and his palms faced upward, while his stiff upper body and low cast eyes gave it away.
I then heard, “I’m sorry.”
My fear prevented any attempt at forgiveness and the flight response came over me. I raced for the police car. I barely heard the honking when I reached the yellow divider. When I looked up, the officer’s right tail light had faded around the corner. I stood there in disbelief. I had turned around, and the man was reaching for his driver side door. He rushed in and quickly drove off.
My sister had been detained at work, and she found me near a couple’s house that offered their help.
Angels tread wherever God sends them. Whether Angels appear for comfort, for guidance, for protection, or for help, they dwell among us. I never felt hate for this man, but it is in God’s understanding as to why I faced that peril, for it is written, “The angel of the Lord encamps around those who fear him, and he delivers them.” Psalm 34:7 NIV
The opinions expressed by authors may not necessarily reflect the opinion of FaithWriters.com.
If you died today, are you absolutely certain that you would go to heaven? You can be right now. CLICK HERE
JOIN US at FaithWriters for Free. Grow as a Writer and Spread the Gospel.