VIRGINIA DAWKINS: A prayer for the helpless

Published 1:00 pm Friday, August 27, 2021

Once, at a Canton Flea Market, I tripped on a broken sidewalk and crashed face-down on a crowded pathway. Almost immediately, two Catholic ladies came to my rescue, lifted me up, and ushered me inside their church.

They sponged the blood off my face and arms, and then led me gently through the crowd and across two alleys, to a doctor’s office.

The doctor bandaged my wounds and advised me to go home and get a tetanus shot. I was never asked to show my insurance card or to pay for the visit.

In the midst of that overcrowded little town with blocked off streets, some other kind soul made connections for me with the friend I had been separated from, and we were able to travel back to Meridian.

What a blessing to receive help from strangers in time of need.

Recently, on a fast-paced practice ride, along a cycling trail in Nashville, our grandson crashed to the ground, breaking both arms and incurring a concussion. Pete has no memory of the accident or of the arms that picked him up off the ground; unknown people came to his rescue and took him to the closest hospital—a trauma hospital.

Somehow, a pinprick appeared on Pete’s cellphone and was transferred to his friend Anna’s phone showing the location of the hospital. Pete has endured four hours of surgery, lots of pain, and now, for a period of time, he will be completely dependent on others. But he and his parents are aware of the mercy of God and the angel-like people God sent to help in time of need.

The surgeon assigned to Pete is a former cycler himself who previously survived his own bicycle accident and is an expert at putting smashed elbows back together.

I am remembering our automobile accident several years ago. On a moonless October night, our vehicle was lurching violently from one side of the road to another, as though a huge hand had taken control with the intent of shaking us to pieces. My mind shouted, “Where are you, Lord? This isn’t supposed to be happening!” And then I closed my eyes and mumbled, “Jesus, Jesus!” We left the road and rolled over, steel grinding against steel, our bodies bouncing and slamming with each impact. Finally, our wild, angry ride came to a halt, and there was silence.

We were right side up in the interstate median. We sat in a dazed state, surrounded by shattered glass. In front of me, my husband and son, Rick, still fastened in seat belts, seemed to be ok, but the rear seat of the SUV, where Mike had been sleeping moments before, was empty.

Mike appeared outside my smashed window, and then fell to the ground and lay motionless. I tried to get out of the car and go to him, but suddenly voices spoke in the darkness, telling me not to move, and saying, “We’ve called for ambulances, you’ll be alright.” Then, I could see two young men beside Mike, instructing him, “Lie still, and don’t move your head.”

At the hospital, Mike, who had been thrown out of the van through the back window, found shards of glass in his pockets, and skid marks on the back of his shirt, but suffered no injuries. Later we learned that the voices in the dark were medical students. When I was asking God, “Where are you?” He was busy sending an angel to catch Mike and helpful strangers to helpless people.

None of us would choose to experience those helpless times, but when we look back, we are likely to see the blessings that surrounded us in the midst of trouble.

Pray for God’s mercy to cover the helpless ones in Afghanistan.