Isaac Garvin | February 18, 2021 | Shvil HaBaruch, The Blessed Path
The sun came out yesterday, for the first time in over a week. Rebekah and I decided to take advantage of the nice weather and go for a walk. We had been working hard on ministry things and needed a break. Even though it was getting on in the afternoon, she suggested we make the drive out to a regional park we have been to a few times before. We planned to spend the late afternoon strolling around a lovely little fishing lake that has nice stands of cattails at each end and fishing access points and park areas along the sides. But a couple of seemingly insignificant turns changed the course of our afternoon in a significant way.
The first was that we got to talking as we were driving out of town and forgot to stay right at the “Y”. As you head north towards the edge of our city, the main arterial splits into two highways that head out of town. One to the north; one to the northwest. Our destination was on the highway to the right but we mistakenly continued out of town on the one to the left. It wasn’t a huge deal. We realized our mistake within a few miles and turned off on a side-road that cuts back across. It’s a pretty scenic route that Rebekah prefers anyway and by going that way our trip was only five minutes or so longer.
The second turn occurred just as we arrived at the park entrance. Normally we park at the first of two parking areas and then walk the lake-loop trail in a counter-clockwise direction. It’s not because there is any official policy about walking direction, it just seems to be kind of an unwritten protocol adhered to by the users of this recreational wetland area. Today was different. As we approached the park entrance, a honey-bucket truck turned in right in front of us, presumably to service the portable toilet that was at the second parking area just a little further around the right side of the lake. Being familiar with the noise and smell that often accompanies these trucks, I suggested that we walk to the left this time and circle the lake clockwise to avoid the honey truck.
It was relatively cold out, in the low 30’s, but the sun was still shining and the day was calm as we headed down the snow covered trail. Not a bad day to be out, as long as you kept moving. We made it about 200 yards. Not because the snow was too deep, as there were only four or five inches of it on the ground, but because we encountered an older man who was alone, standing on the far edge of a wide spot in the trail as we approached. We assumed he had moved over to the edge of the trail to allow us to pass with a wide berth. Humanity seems to be developing odd little behaviors like that these days due to the lie of COVID and the absurd notion that distance is somehow a virtue. The gentleman appeared to give us a faint acknowledgement by turning his sun glass covered eyes in our direction as we passed, but he said nothing.
Something didn’t feel right so we paused and I addressed him and asked, “Are you okay?”
He hesitated, then shook his head “no” in response. Then it was as if he had just been given permission to not be ok and let whatever it was have him. Perhaps it was because he now had someone near him who cared enough to ask. He stumbled. I stepped towards him. And just as I reached him, he collapsed. I was there to help him to the ground keeping his head from hitting the snow. I stayed with him while Rebekah went for help and called emergency services. A group of six or seven people had recently passed, heading away from us back along the trail. They were no longer in sight, but Rebekah and our dog Buddy began running down the trail after them thinking that perhaps they knew him. No one else would be passing by that way for some time, if at all, because it was late in the afternoon. I had rolled him on his side and put my coat under his head to straighten his airway and make him more comfortable in the snow. I kept my hand on him and spoke to him periodically, checking for responsiveness, listening to his breathing, lifting his glasses so I could see his eyes. What a rare privilege it is to have an opportunity to extend oneself to another.
It didn’t take Rebekah but a minute or two to reach them. A husband and wife quickly came back with her to offer their help, which I was grateful for. Rebekah stayed on the phone with emergency services, giving them directions and passing on what little information we had about the man. We didn’t know for sure what was wrong at the time. Was it a stroke or a seizure...a heart attack? We found out later that he was a 65 year old gentleman, named Rick, who was most likely having a stroke. There wasn’t much we could do, besides just being there. Hopefully that helped. After the other couple arrived, the woman took over doing what I had been doing while her husband went to get a blanket. There wasn’t much else I could do there so Rebekah sent me back to the car to warm up and to point the first responders in the right direction. A fire truck, an ambulance and another emergency service vehicle arrived. Rebekah walked down the trail with 2 paramedics giving them our account and as soon as they took over with their gear, Rebekah retrieved my coat and we wandered off along the lake for a bit to catch our breath, let the adrenaline settle, and let our little dog stretch his legs.
He had been a good sport the whole time. We had the end of the lake to ourselves as we soaked up the last of the day’s sun among the cottonwoods and cattails. We gathered a little tinder for our tinderbox from the dry swamp grasses. We prayed for the man and walked in peace until the sound of an approaching helicopter replaced the silence and made my heart sink. Across the lake, we saw the dark blue shape of the Life Flight aircraft settle towards the ground where it momentarily disappeared in a white cloud of airborne snow. We ran back up the trail in our snow boots trying to see what was going on. Minutes later the helicopter rose in much the same way it had come and disappeared into a painfully blue sky. I looked at Rebekah and said, “the Eagles are coming.” We shared a sigh with this reference to what the Scripture says about how we will be saved off this Earth when the King returns.
Coming into the clearing of the parking lot we met the lady and her husband who had stayed on with the man. She gave us the details and we felt a strange sense of connection with a stranger, yet not, as we shared in someone else’s suffering. We couldn’t help but wonder: Why did Rebekah push to go to that lake? Why did she miss our first turn? Why did that stinky honey bucket truck turn off in front of us at that moment? Was it YHVH? Who knows how long that old man may have lain in the snow, alone and without help, if Rebekah and I hadn’t made those two left turns.
What does it take to save a person? Today, it took two people heading out for a late afternoon hike who had to be flexible enough to be led to just the right place at just the right time to perform a task for the Creator. Then it took another couple who responded appropriately to our cry for help, half a dozen first responders in three emergency vehicles, a helicopter and crew, and then presumably, a hospital. And even then...for how long? Everyone and everything here is subject to death and there is no power on earth that can stop that... yet. Everything is not okay.
How many of us need permission to admit that we are not okay? Nothing is ever going to be right or permanent until the one whose name means “Salvation” appears in a white cloud of angels and they spread out over the earth like eagles to gather us up and carry us away.
Blessed be the journey,
Isaac
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