I always thought of myself as someone that was more empathetic and kind to others, than not being that way. That my Christian faith aided me in that way of life.
I mean it wasn’t like I volunteered at homeless shelters, raised money for the less fortunate, gave money or food to every person on the corner asking for it. But I have done some of that plus donate to organizations and people I don’t even know. I enjoy doing mission work at my home church as well.
But what happened that July morning? What happened to the person that normally sees the aid someone needs before becoming stricken with fear? Is that only available when it seems a safe distance from me or my husband is home?
As the experience becomes a memory with each passing day I feel guilt on occasion. Guilt for not looking closer and seeing a person in need. A person that needed medical help. Where was my thinking that these individuals stopped to rest and my porch apparently was the most inviting or just closest?
Instead I saw someone that would hurt my family. I saw, no I felt fear and the image in front of me became blurred. Blurred by the fact that later I would find out he was having a seizure. At the time I had no clue why the scene in front of me was happening but it was only a few seconds glance to be honest. My mind went to the darkest place verses the light place.
Instead of choosing to secure my daughter safely and take pity on the two strangers on my porch I called 911. (yes I know 911 would help them) I also proceeded to bunker down in a room with my daughter. I waited and visited with the lovely dispatcher for a good 20 or 25 minutes. All the while these folks sat on my front porch. What did they think, no one was home. Did they want to be found?
The sheriff showed up and he seemed pretty laid back about the entire situation. Perhaps because he was familiar with the situation, the people, and knew things I didn’t know. I felt better of course when I spoke to him. Yet….
I wonder why didn’t they ring my doorbell? Why did they choose that chair to sit in that they did? How long had they been on my front porch? During the night or just a short time? How long did they sit outside my daughter’s window? Are they getting the help they need now?
Many questions have run through my mind. I am the type of person that thinks, that is part of my processing. Sometimes I never find the answers and it drives me crazy but eventually I let go and move on.
I have no clue who they are to this day or where they are now. I now wish I would have stepped around the corner with the sheriff next to me to see them completely. To put a face to the images I recall. To humanize what occurred that morning, to make some sort of connection.
How to finish this post isn’t coming to me. So I’ll just close for now.