That's right. When I was a much younger man (man being a term thrown around with reckless abandon in my particular neck-of-the-woods) I was... well, maybe not "mugged", but at least robbed at gunpoint. Experience wise, I cannot imagine there is a significant amount of difference between an actual mugging, and the fear and panic one feels at an almost mugging. Having only experienced the one incident, I am probably not the best judge. Either way, I do believe it was our assailants first armed robbery, and despite the fact that it was also mine, we managed just fine. There was a minor disagreement over what should be done with the robbee's (is that a word?) at the conclusion of the robbing, but other than that, things went as smoothly as could be expected, especially for two "first timers."
The whole terror... gun-wielding... assaulting people... thing aside, I think that deep down, our assailant was probably a nice guy who had just fallen on hard times, or was severely lacking appropriate amounts of intelligence. Evidence thereof is that he picked, as victims two starving college students. While I have no idea how the average hardened criminal picks his victims, I have NO doubt that even the common lawyer, or corruptus vulgaris, ranks much higher on the perspective target list than college students. I would have helped him look for a lawyer too, if he had explained what the alternative was. Perhaps our assailant had previously been involved with a lawyer, and knew there was no way to actually come out with MORE money than when he started. Whatever the case, he never went over his target list with me and I did my best to be a suitable Robbee; despite the fact that I had little or nothing of value on or about my person. For this reason, my assailant made off with practically nothing. You can imagine his surprise, and my embarrassment when the total value of his haul was tallied. Provided he duped someone into buying the watch, (I think you could pick a JCM watch up on campus for less than the price of a happy meal), he may have gotten away with 20 bucks. In fact, if he had known exactly how broke I was at the time, he probably would have offered to split that evening's "TAKE" with me. I wouldn't have accepted of course (do you tithe stolen money?)
Anyways.... the story goes like this...
O,... To protect the innocent, names have been changed. The young lady who happened to be with me at the precise time of said encounter shall be referred to as Darla. I will be Frank. The unknown assailant will be prosecuted if he is ever caught, and you may be whomever you wish to be. Any similarity to persons now living or otherwise, who may or may not have been in attendance at school of reference between said time period not heretofore indicated, is purely intentional and not at all coincidental. Now back to our story,...
It was one of those fall evenings that God creates specifically for the enjoyment of happy couples, the kind of evening where young people stroll hand in hand through leaf strewn parks, or sit idly on a park bench, discussing dreams still unpolluted by reality. The cool wind blows, not menacingly, but just enough to draw young lovers closer together. The night air is crisp, clean, beautiful. The stars are radiant, The company pleasant. One can hear the occasional voice drifting with the wind, soft enough to make itself a pleasant backdrop; yet not interfering with those lost in contemplation; of dreams, or simply one another.
As I have already stated, I was a young college student. I was broke- like most college students. One of the favorite pastimes of broke college students at that time was studying. Not all college students though, there being a large contingent of students, who believed as I did; studying was hazardous to your health, not to mention your social life. Sure, It earned you good grades, but what good was that if it meant not having a single date for three years?
Now you may see my dilemma... I was torn between my value for the company of the fairer sex, and the realization that said company generally required something I had precious little of, money. As lacking money was a situation common to the average college student, those who had preceded me at,... Ummh,... let's call it..." Jackson College of Matrimony"... had solved this particular issue by locating a place known as "Highland Village",.. a cross between an outdoor mall and a park, whose many shops would be closed at this time of night. Here they gathered for giant games of "Hide-and-seek", (yes, I said hide and seek.) strolls past it's manicured landscapes, or conversation of a more romantic bynt.
The plan for the evening had been brilliant in it's simplicity... Food immediately following service (hey, we're Pentecostal.) and then... YES!... Highland village! While my contemporaries engaged in their frivolity, I would engage in the noble pursuit of that most elusive of prey,... The female heart. I had picked a suitably attractive ( though not too discriminating.) young lady to accompany me to "Highland Village". She had agreed, whether out of sympathy or a momentary lapse in reason; we may never know. And so I found myself seated on a bench in a cozy and conveniently isolated little niche. A water fountain played in the foreground, it's melody only adding to the ambiance of a glorious autumn night. Darla sat beside me, holding my hand ever so gently, as we talked of life, and love, and dreams.
I can still hear the sounds of the game of hide and seek that night,.. the staccato of feet on concrete, the delighted laughter of pursuit. As it faded off into the distance, I took stock of my position.... Being broke wasn't that bad! I had just spent the last bit of my meager earnings buying dinner for,... Errr "Darla." We had eaten at (Rhymes with "willie's", has a giant pepper for a trademark.) and to the best of my recollection, "Darla" had ordered the chicken finger basket.
This show's what a great judge of female character I am, because I sincerely believe she was aware of how broke I was, and ordered the cheapest thing on the menu. It didn't matter now though, because we were finally where I wanted to be,... alone.
As we sat there on the bench, we discussed the service that night. I seem to remember that it was a fabulous service, but few other details.
Soon the conversation turned, taking on a more personal note. We talked of why we had come to this particular college,... our dreams and goals,... our hopes for our respective ministries. I remember that I was listening to Darla talk, but my mind was scarcely on what she was saying. Instead, It raced a thousand miles an hour, doing advanced calculations as to the best time to attempt a kiss. It factored in hand holding, distance to target, possibility of rejection, crunching the numbers again and again, but never coming up with a firing solution.
At first I thought Darla had picked up on my agenda,... I saw her eyes widen, jaw drop in disbelief, her grip on my fingers becoming incredibly uncomfortable. I quickly wondered about my breath... Could captains wafers cause halitosis? realizing that it was now or never, I closed my eyes, leaned in,... and "wham!"
Actually it wasn't a wham. I cannot now recall the sound made by the"robber" poking me in the back of the head with the weapon... and for a second I had no idea what was happening. I do remember that for a second I saw stars, and It wasn't because I had gotten that kiss I wanted. As the constellations that played across the back of my eyelids faded away, I turned my head in anger to confront what I mistakenly thought was my bestfriend "Bob" playing a practical joke.
Instead of "Bob", what I saw that night made every hair on my body stand on end. The first thing I noticed was that I was staring into the barrel of a sawed-off shotgun. You can imagine my surprise. To go directly from contemplation of a kiss, to contemplation of imminent death; is a leap no one but James Bond should have to make. Let's just say it does a number on the "ole ticker". My heart jumped into my throat,.. For just a moment I considered engaging in what I call the M.S.P., or "Modified Stationary Panic". For those of you who are unfamiliar with the modified stationary panic; it is very similar to an ordinary panic, but with less running around, and a lot more crying.
This would have been impossible though, because Darla was now squeezing my fingers into a shapeless mass, and in near panic herself was uttering the one word that I wished I could have said,... " Jesus!" I was unable to say anything though, because my tongue had picked that precise moment to go on vacation....perhaps permanently; and without bothering to leave a forwarding address..
All joking aside, I would like to leave you with a description of the gut wrenching, horribly sickening feeling I had at that moment. I cannot explain to you what it was. To those of you who are parents, It is very similar to when your child is playing down the hall in another room, you hear that crashing sound, and then your child's cries of anguish. It is that gut wrenching. For those of you who are not parents,.. you know how it feels when you stick you tongue to a 9-volt battery to "See if it's still Good?" Well, If you checked 120-volt wall outlets the same way; that's not even a tenth of what it would be like.
But I digress,... So Darla is saying "Jesus..!" In a very loud ( or what seems to be very loud) whisper. It is too this statement that our rather large, bedraggled, and hygenically challenged perpetrator replied .. " Jesus Nothing,... I'll blow your head off ! " This statement was addressed to me, (unfairly I thought) even though Darla had been the one speaking. In a spray of spittle the thief then said, " Now move! and nobody gets hurt." Using the tip of the shotgun like a cattle prod, he poked us towards a small,dark, and alley-like cleft between two shops. He forced us a few dozen steps into the alley before ordering us to stop.
For anyone who needs clarification of my mind set at this point, let me just say.... I used to love crime dramas. Dramas where the hero would at this very point have leaped upon his assailant, and beat him unmercifully about the head and shoulders. Dramas in which the perpetrator slunk away, cowering in fear, as fast as his wobbly legs would carry him. Dramas in which the hero always had a sarcastic one liner to hurl after his vanquished opponent. I had often thought to myself that I was precisely that kind of Hero.
I now found that I wasn't.
The next seconds passed in a frenzy,... I would love to play them back for you,.. but the truth is they have all jumbled together in a fusion which is equal parts terror, and the forgetfulness caused by distance and time. The main feeling however remains intact, and the things remembered I will chronicle as best I can.
I remember being told " Don't look at me!" repeatedly. I remember being ordered to hand over my wallet. ( 10 dollars and my drivers license.) I remember the thief barking at me.. " Is this it?! " his breath as violent as his prodding with the gun barrel had been. " Is this all you got?!" His question had an extremely ominous tone to it. I was sincerely afraid that we were about to be the first people ever shot for NOT having enough money while being robbed.
I remember events, but not the sequences of those events,... I remember him taking Darla's watch, ( the JCM watch previously spoken of.) Ripping my shirt open as he searched me for jewelry,.. I heard him say "Where's the jewelry?" , and Darla replied,.. " We're pentecostal!" We don't wear jewelry!" This whole time, Darla had demonstrated ( besides squeezing my fingers into mush.) a remarkable amount of reserve. The only thing she had done was pray quietly; in a voice barely audible , throughout the event.
I remember being forced to our knees, and told to face away from our assailant.I remember the way the atmosphere seemed to change, the oppressive and almost overwhelming fear. His voice had seemed to drop an octave as I heard him say... " Didn't I tell you not to look at me?!" I didn't reply. Something in the way that last was said,.... Instantly,... I just Knew. I knew this was it. I knew I would probably meet my maker in the next few seconds.
And this I remember best.
I remember thinking,.. " So, This is how it ends?" My thoughts spun dizzily through my head, but they were simply hurried, and NOT clouded by emotion. In fact all emotion seemed to fade away, and my thinking became singular and crystal clear. I thought " Well, At least we just left a great service." That's got to be a good note to go out on, right? And then the rush of thoughts, things that were so very important at this time, but wouldn't be remotely considered during daily life. These things were made relevant by this series of events,... but wouldn't ordinarily have carried much importance.
I wanted desperately to talk to my Mom. Tell her it was Ok. Mainly because I knew others would say the same thing to her. I knew she would acknowledge the truth of what they would say, and then cry anyways.
I wanted to be in the presence of God, in worship; on this Earth, one more time. I ached to have accomplished something that I would be able to present before his throne, (sooner now; than later!). And to have done something with the time I had been given. And with that thought came the realization... How little I had done, how I had been selfish, squandering my life in the pursuit of me. I prayed silently,.. denying,( Lord, How could this be your plan for me?!) accepting,... ( Well, if this is your will, Lord.. Then I'm fine with it.) Bargaining,... And it was here;.... I vowed that if by some miracle I survived, then I would be different.
I don't know exactly what happened next. Apparently, A group of people had approached the far end of the alleyway, and beholding the three darkness muted figures in the alley, had paused, squinting to make sense of the scene that was unfolding in the ominous blackness.
The thief, keying on this, abruptly bolted. As he darted off, my tongue returned from vacation. I stood and shouted " He took my wallet! get him!" A number of the guys in the group chased after him. In hindsight, It now seems appropriate ( though I didn't think of it at the time) to have said something of the crook being armed. No one thinks with absolute clarity in times of crisis though, and I hope all those "Brave" guys have since forgiven this oversight.
The whole point of this story is that It is amazing how quickly we forget the promises we make, not just to each other, but also to God. This story was all but forgotten, a dusty, and ill used memory abandoned to the highest shelf in my minds library.
A few months ago, God brought it back to my memory. The event was there again in startling clarity, but more startling was the prompting I felt in my soul... " Do you remember what you promised me?"
I DO.
I remember that I vowed to make every day about HIM. I vowed to never take those I love for granted. I vowed to remember that those things that were important on my knees; Gun to my head,... staring into eternity,... are the things that are important ALL THE TIME. I would like to say that I never let that lesson slip, that I always remembered, but that would be a lie.
I forgot. For years.
Then one day, even as I prayed for something else,... for me,... God again reminded me, very gently, that it was not about those things. He reminded me, the way you entreat someone you love desperately;...to remember the things that had been important on my knees in that alley.
My relationship with Him. My relationship with the ones I love.
What I have done with the strengths and gifts I have,... Not for my Glory, But for His. Everything else in life is simply situational. Problems to be dealt with, obstacles overcome. But these things,... well, Time invested in them, effort poured out,... reaps astonishing rewards. Damage done to these things takes years to repair, but only moments to cause. These are the things that should always be precious, but are often forgotten in the crush of urgent, insatiable, hurried life.
I am now a career firefighter, and an Emergency Medical Tech. As part of my career, I have seen a rather large number of people pass from this life to the next. In many of these faces, I have had the opportunity to see; even as I worked feverishly to save them, these same truths welling up from the inside. I say this not to be morbid, but to point out that what is important when a human faces that great unknown, When light fades from these eyes, and rises anew on that golden shore,.... Well, Those things must be supremely important here also.
I don't know why I felt so compelled to tell this story. But I do. I tried, ( many will say in vain) to temper it with humor. I did not intend to make it about me. My aim was quite simply to remind us of what God had taken the time to remind me of twice.
Remember what is truly important, today; and every day hereafter.
I was amazed at how concerned you were with the feelings of others this week, especially your Daddy. I wanted to note this, in case we forget,.. for this is something I want to always remember. You left me something,.. do you remember? The day before you left, as we discussed that you would be leaving,.. you actually said to me " Are you going to cry Daddy?" The concern in your voice, for the first time I can remember; wasn't for your sadness, but mine. I stood there for just a second, composing myself. There was no threat of tears, but the wash of emotion was incredible. " No sweetheart, Daddy won't cry." I replied, the steadiness of my voice surprising me." I know that you love me, and nothing changes that." I paused. " And you know that I love you don't you?" you tilted your little face up towards mine, and for some reason, I knew that the shine in those eyes was for me. My daughter was worried about how much "I" would miss" HER" ! You replied that You did, and went back to painting. But when you had finished, the art you left to dry on the counter is the picture attached to this note.The lump in my throat grew as you explained to me,.. " Daddy, If you hang this on your mirror, you will see it every night when you go to bed!, ... and every morning when you get up!.... and that's you, and that's me... see?!" All I could do was stand there, staring at this picture, trying to make sense of the emotions that battled for control. When the dust settled, what rose up within my spirit was a simple, Godly pride. What I had tried so hard to make sure you knew, you had tried just as hard to make sure "I" knew. YOU ARE LOVED. As I looked down into your little face, my heart swelled with pride,.... And love. The lesson I had wanted to pass to you had come full circle. I stood there : proud parent, proud teacher,.. and learned the lesson again. God Bless You Angel, Your Daddy loves you. Do you know that?
Signed,
