Arlene kept her front yard like a show place. The back yard, too, but the front was her pride and joy. Rich green lawn, meticulously placed shrubs, precision- trimmed. Color spots over there. Half-barrels of petunias by the steps. It took a lot of work, a lot of time, but the satisfaction she and Art got back made it worth it.
This blistering hot Sunday afternoon had been especially taxing, and she was glad when she could finally convince herself it was time to go in. The a/c was on in the house and she was ready to soak up the cool. Arlene sat down and read a while as she sipped a cold drink.
But it wasn’t long before a kind of uneasiness began to pester her. She had the distinct sense that she should go back outside. But she had put in her time for the day and finished the project she had begun. There was no reason to go back outside. She enjoyed walking the grounds, but she had just spent the day there. Yet the nudge wouldn’t go away.
Another few pages in the book and she couldn’t shake the dis-ease she was feeling. Slipping into her shoes she went outside and stood on the porch for a long few minutes. Nothing amiss here, Lord. What did you have in mind?
Arlene turned to go back inside when a sudden noise caught her attention. A late model black sedan squealed around the corner and the back door flew open. A young adult girl, maybe in her 20’s, tumbled out onto the street. The car slid to a stop, but seeing Arlene on the porch the driver sped off down the street.
The girl, Shelly, lying on the street, bruised, crying, tried to stand but she couldn’t. Arlene ran to the curb and helped her out of the street. As the two women sat on the curb Shelly poured out her story. She had gone shopping at a local mall with some friends, but she had become separated from them and decided to walk home. She had walked only a couple of blocks when the black sedan pulled up beside her. They offered her a ride but she refused. One of the three men in the car jumped out and pulled her into the back seat. Terrified now, when they asked where she was headed she pointed toward home. The car sped off in the opposite direction.
When they swung around the corner in front of Arlene’s house, Shelly figured it was her last chance so she lunged for the door handle and sprawled out onto the pavement. Bleeding, bruised, scratched and uncertain of her injuries Arlene and Art rushed her to the hospital. Later in the evening, they took her home.
I can count half a dozen miracles in this true story that happened this week. How many can you count?
By Don Jacobsen