I was minding my own business today when I was approached and asked what I was doing for the next hour. Because this guy is somewhat pushy and tends to pass the "grunt" work off on others, I hesitated and tried to come up with a good answer. Instead, I said, "I'll be here working." Anyway, he then asked me if I would like to do a "good samaritan" deed. He told me there was a homeless lady in the next room and asked if I would take the next hour to drive her to a church she had requested. Why he picked me, I'm not sure. I was immediately taken back to a day in college when I was given an opportunity to do something nice to help someone.
It was the last week of school prior to graduation and I had been enrolled in a class, called "Social Problems." We had spent the last few months talking about psychotic people, sociopaths, rapists and everything under the sun that could possibly give me the creeps any time I stepped foot outside the classroom. We spent a couple of weeks talking about rapists alone and our professor gave us signs we should look for when encountering someone who had plans to hurt us.
I took my final exam and was walking to my car in what seemed to be an empty parking lot. Once I got closer to my car, I noticed a strange looking character several cars away from my car with the hood up and battery cables attached. The car was facing out of the parking space. We were the only two in the parking lot. I had never seen this character before and the school wasn't large. I immediatley began to think about what the professor had said about someone waiting to attack. It seemed pretty fishy to me that he had parked with his car facing out of the space and conveniently, his battery had "died" and he needed a young, female student, a.k.a. his next victim to help him. My thoughts grew more scary when I saw him quickly approaching me. I picked up the speed of my fast walk to a moderate jog and raced for my car. Once I got in, I locked the doors and it still didn't stop him from coming after me. He tapped on my window and I rolled it down about an inch. He asked me if I would be willing to drive my car over and let him boost his battery with the cables.
About a thousand more thoughts of him killing me and never seeing my family again ran through my mind. By then, I had decided that he was probably facing his car out of the spot so he could throw me in the trunk and drive me to my grave. Besides, I had never seen him since I started school there and he just looked creepy.
Finally, I told him that I would drive right up there and help him. He thanked me and walked back toward his car. I backed out of my parking space, drove toward his car, and made the FASTEST getaway I could from the parking lot. I drove as quickly as I could home, thinking he was probably going to follow me in his falsely battery-dead car. I left him in my dust and he never caught me.
The next morning I went back to school for graduation rehearsal. I was walking with several of my friends down the hall when to my surprise I saw that same creepy face from the parking lot the day before. He was there for graduation rehearsal, too. I was so embarrassed. I guess he wasn't a rapist after all (or at least he hadn't been caught). I felt so badly that I had not helped the guy and even thought about apologizing. Instead, I walked away quickly.
He didn't have any intentions on hurting me, I guess...well, until I told him, "Sure, I'll help," and then drove out of the parking lot like a bat out of h-e-double hockey sticks. I bet some really mean thoughts went through his mind then!
So, today I felt as if I were given an opportunity to make up a "good samaritan" deed which I had shunned so many years ago. However, I will have to admit there was a flash of that Social Problems class that popped into my head and made me wonder if this homeless lady was going to pull out a knife and as Bon Qui Qui says, "CUUUUT" me. So as not to be completely frightened, I asked another person to ride along with us. Instead of something horrible I had envisioined, I found this woman to be afraid, lost and so sad. My co-pilot began telling her that no matter what, she could find hope if she put her trust in God. I realized I had been given an opportunity to give someone a "cool glass of water" rather than giving them a an easy target for something bad to happen. I felt guilty for the thoughts of fear that had crossed my mind. I made conversation with the traveller and even shared my faith.
Once we were able to drive this woman where she wanted to go, I spent the drive back thinking how grateful I am for a Savior. How thankful I am that I have a safe, warm place to go home to at night and two, beautiful, little girls that I can hug.
Would I be less afraid if someone asked me to do the same thing today? Probably not. However, maybe I would be a little more sensitive to the subject.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Please Don't "Hit Me with Your Best Shot"
I promise everything I share really does happen to me. Once again, I have replaced names - this time in order to protect not the innocent, but crazy.
One, sunny afternoon almost 6 years ago, Mom called me to say that Harlan James had dropped off a gift for me at her house.
He said, “Mrs. Williams, I had heard that Leigh was going through a divorce, and I wanted to bring her something that I thought might cheer her up.” Mom said she didn’t know what to say or do, so she just thanked him and he left. She laughingly told me to hurry over, because she couldn’t wait to see what it could be.
The mysterious gift was packaged simple, little gift bag and a Hallmark card. When I opened the gift bag, there they were - three, little, stuffed, pink poodles…What was that supposed to mean? The Hallmark card explained their purpose, along with a dissertation on Harlan’s attraction to redheads. Here’s an absurd tidbit from the card:
“Some friends caught me turning down a Pam Anderson look alike back in college for a plain looking red head. The next day they had me admitted to the Murfreesboro Psychiatric Ward. After 6 months of intense experimental treatment, I was released. I still have to see a shrink once a week and take antidepressants 3 times a day, but I’m getting better. The doctors call it Obsessive Compulsive Red Head Attraction Disorder (OCRHAD)."
One Sunday, my mom looked over to the piano at me from the choir and mouthed, “Oh, no!” I didn’t know what she meant until the welcome time and I followed her eyes to yes, you guessed it, Harrlan James. Oh, why had he come here? Harlan followed me to the car…I thanked him for the gift and gently told him that my divorce wasn’t yet final. He just kept talking. I finally said, “Harlan, I’m just not interested.”
For several months I have been working on a video project. The videographer is some kind of creepy guy, but he was hired to do the work and I was forced to work with him. Because my girls were interviewed for the project, he met them. He asked me to bring them over to play with his children the next time I had to go to his studio for editing. Because I thought he was creepy, I made up excuses for their absences. After the last editing meeting in November, he began telling me that he had something he wanted to give my youngest…a stuffed animal that he thought she would like. After a month of doing my best to avoid picking up CDs and other video-related materials from his home, he sent me an e-mail asking if I was going to come by and get the stuff or not. So, I told him I would run by in a hurry on my way home from work.
The closer I got to his driveway the more disturbed I became. It was dark and rainy. His studio was around the back of the house in a converted garage. There were really tall bushes EVERYWHERE. I left the car running, put my phone in my coat pocket and held my finger on the “9” just in case he tried to kill me and bury me in the back yard. He handed me the CDs and other items and then held up the stuffed animal he thought my youngest would like. It was a big, lavender horse. When he held it up, he said, “It just has a few holes and stains, but other than that, it is like new.” For one of the few times in my life, I was speechless. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. I mustered out a “thank you,” jumped in my car and drove home. The horse found its stall somewhere close to the poodles’ doghouse in the landfill. You would think that I had been drinking, but of course that would be elephants I would be seeing, not horses or poodles.
I don’t know what it is with me that would make anyone want to give me weird, pastel, stuffed animals. My friend commented, “Hey, at least the guys weren’t afraid to take a shot at you.” After thinking about this I’m pretty sure that the kind of “shot” these crazies would take wouldn’t be anything like the “old college try.” However, I’m pretty sure theirs would be with something that resembled an AR-15, and I doubt it would be pastel or merely a stuffed toy.
One, sunny afternoon almost 6 years ago, Mom called me to say that Harlan James had dropped off a gift for me at her house.
He said, “Mrs. Williams, I had heard that Leigh was going through a divorce, and I wanted to bring her something that I thought might cheer her up.” Mom said she didn’t know what to say or do, so she just thanked him and he left. She laughingly told me to hurry over, because she couldn’t wait to see what it could be.
The mysterious gift was packaged simple, little gift bag and a Hallmark card. When I opened the gift bag, there they were - three, little, stuffed, pink poodles…What was that supposed to mean? The Hallmark card explained their purpose, along with a dissertation on Harlan’s attraction to redheads. Here’s an absurd tidbit from the card:
“Some friends caught me turning down a Pam Anderson look alike back in college for a plain looking red head. The next day they had me admitted to the Murfreesboro Psychiatric Ward. After 6 months of intense experimental treatment, I was released. I still have to see a shrink once a week and take antidepressants 3 times a day, but I’m getting better. The doctors call it Obsessive Compulsive Red Head Attraction Disorder (OCRHAD)."
One Sunday, my mom looked over to the piano at me from the choir and mouthed, “Oh, no!” I didn’t know what she meant until the welcome time and I followed her eyes to yes, you guessed it, Harrlan James. Oh, why had he come here? Harlan followed me to the car…I thanked him for the gift and gently told him that my divorce wasn’t yet final. He just kept talking. I finally said, “Harlan, I’m just not interested.”
For several months I have been working on a video project. The videographer is some kind of creepy guy, but he was hired to do the work and I was forced to work with him. Because my girls were interviewed for the project, he met them. He asked me to bring them over to play with his children the next time I had to go to his studio for editing. Because I thought he was creepy, I made up excuses for their absences. After the last editing meeting in November, he began telling me that he had something he wanted to give my youngest…a stuffed animal that he thought she would like. After a month of doing my best to avoid picking up CDs and other video-related materials from his home, he sent me an e-mail asking if I was going to come by and get the stuff or not. So, I told him I would run by in a hurry on my way home from work.
The closer I got to his driveway the more disturbed I became. It was dark and rainy. His studio was around the back of the house in a converted garage. There were really tall bushes EVERYWHERE. I left the car running, put my phone in my coat pocket and held my finger on the “9” just in case he tried to kill me and bury me in the back yard. He handed me the CDs and other items and then held up the stuffed animal he thought my youngest would like. It was a big, lavender horse. When he held it up, he said, “It just has a few holes and stains, but other than that, it is like new.” For one of the few times in my life, I was speechless. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. I mustered out a “thank you,” jumped in my car and drove home. The horse found its stall somewhere close to the poodles’ doghouse in the landfill. You would think that I had been drinking, but of course that would be elephants I would be seeing, not horses or poodles.
I don’t know what it is with me that would make anyone want to give me weird, pastel, stuffed animals. My friend commented, “Hey, at least the guys weren’t afraid to take a shot at you.” After thinking about this I’m pretty sure that the kind of “shot” these crazies would take wouldn’t be anything like the “old college try.” However, I’m pretty sure theirs would be with something that resembled an AR-15, and I doubt it would be pastel or merely a stuffed toy.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
