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True Faces

I close my eyes in quiet search for a significant person I know or have known. My head swims with the urgent memories of many. The many that are meaningful to me and are thus given respect.

Some are given respect for obligation; some are given respect for love; and some are given respect for courage. Although there are many that deserve to be remembered in writing, this story reflects the kind action of a person I only met once.

Nonetheless, this person saved me from unknown peril while most people just drove right past me. I remember that it was a hot July day. I was spending the day outdoors, and the heat was beginning to take its toll on me.

Slowly, my energy was being drained by the 95 degree weather. Thinking only of my parched throat, I decided to visit the store that lay only a block away. Not knowing the danger that was just ahead, I started my short journey.

I could feel the sweat rolling down my sun-kissed checks as I steered my way towards my destination. The store was within sight, and my mind began to dream of a cold lemonade.

As the driveway of the store reached my strained eyes, my ears began to ring; a sign that an MS attack was starting.

I was stuck, alone, in the middle of the road. My body was entering into a world of spasms. I knew I was about to slide out of my chair; for that reason, I grabbed the arms of my chair and whispered a small prayer.

I watched the cars pass me; at the same time, hoping none of the cars would hit me. It was not until after five minutes of watching expensive cars pass - while the owners turned their faces - that I realized I was in big trouble.

I was surprised by how so many could run away from an individual who obviously needed a little assistance. As I slipped out of my chair, I wondered how many of the faces - which turned in shame - belonged to someone returning home after a hard day of obtaining wealth within mere commerce.

On the ground and in despair, I searched for any hint of saving grace. I could feel the hot tar penetrate my gloves so I tried, desperately, to curl my fingers; I could feel the metal from the legs of my chair begin to tear into my skin.

At that very moment, a beat up old chariot pulled off to the side of the road. My MS attack must have been in full bloom because I can only remember small fragments of what happened next; moreover, I am not even sure that the events I describe are exact.

However, I saw a middle age person step out of a car and start running towards me. The next thing I knew, I was lifted up, dusted off, and placed in the shade.

My savior suddenly disappeared. By this time, I was surrounded by the people who had driven past me. Finally, they were concerned. Consequently, I ordered a lemonade and peacefully waited for the attack to dwindle.

Before I knew it, I was on my way back home. When I look back on the experience, I realize that there was someone watching over me from above.

However, I cannot seem to ever forget the faces that turned, nor can I forget the fact that I have turned my face many times. In spite of the fact that it was a chilling experience, it did reinforce my belief of not assuming the shape or form of angelic performances.

Therefore, it is events like this that make me wonder who really has true wealth: a person who is obsessed with the collection of gold or the person who stops to help someone in need.

Comments Are Welcome

William Froerer, Jr.
virtual@relia.net
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sunday, December 14, 1997



 

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