Thursday Night Smackdown in the Wal-Mart Parking Lot

Last week, I witnessed a woman beating a small child in a parking lot.

I did not do anything.  Neither did any of the other half dozen or so witnesses, including a male employee of the store who was in the parking lot.

There was another person with the woman, and the woman, quite frankly, scared me.  She was screaming loudly; using profane language pointedly at the child.  I have never seen such a public display in all my life, and I felt useless and frozen.

I am telling you this, because if I could go back, there are certain things I would do, and I plan on doing, to prepare myself just in case I am ever in a similar situation.  Perhaps these ideas will also help you prepare.

1.      Carry paper and a pen in your car within easy reach all the time.  DO NOT rely on your phone to input all your data.  You may need your phone at the same time as you are writing.  In my case, once I kicked into gear, I found myself frantically grabbing a pen and writing the license number on my arm as I was driving, following the car, and calling the police.

2.       Remember that most large stores have security guards.  I think that if I had acted, I could have gotten a guard there on time.  Or at least asked the employee to go get the guard.

3.       Be a detective.  Save the emotions for later.  The best thing I can do to help the child—and the adult (who obviously needs help, too)—is to remain calm and to notice things.  When I called the police and child protective services, they asked questions.  It was embarrassing how many simple questions I could not answer simply because I had been too emotional to observe them.

4.       Of all the things I regret, I do not know why I did not surreptitiously video this interaction with my phone.  It may sound horrible, but in this society, evidence is KING.  If I want to help a child, the best thing I can do is SHOW PROOF of abuse.

5.       A bunch of individuals are much less likely to intervene than a unit.  Go to others near you and solicit their help.  In group dynamics, someone has to start the chain.  That “someone” may as well be me.  Not too long ago, I had a seizure in a crowded parking lot.  I was half-hanging out of my car door, and I could see people getting in and out of their cars in the spots near me.  I was paralyzed, and nobody helped.  I was “someone else’s problem”.

If I could do it over, I would like to think that I would have the bravery and sneakiness to first video enough to prove what was going on, then put my phone safely in the trunk of my car before going over and trying to keep that little girl safe—not by being confrontational, but by trying to help the woman calm down.

I probably would have gotten my butt kicked, because even though I have started to lift weights, it has only reinforced the truth that I have the upper-body strength of an infant.  Although I do appear to have freakishly strong thighs, I cannot fathom the usefulness of this strength unless I could possibly get someone’s head in some sort of anaconda-grip with my thighs…

But I digress…

I have created these tables of items that seem to be important to those I have communicated with.  It doesn’t matter if you can’t fill them out all the way, or even be specific.  If you know a person’s height compared to the vehicle or a nearby object; that can still be useful.  

I plan on printing them out and keeping them in my car just in case…

The vehicle information would also be useful for accidents or other motor vehicle incidents, I think.

I just know that if I’d had a plan and a paper, I could have been filling out useful information instead of standing next to my car and crying while all this happened.

It rips me apart knowing that there is a little girl out there who needs love and affection, and I may have missed out on the opportunity of a lifetime to turn her world around.  I am doing my best to be better prepared so that if I am ever in this situation again, I can do whatever I can to care for a little child in need.

Description of Adult 1: Male/Female Name_______________________ Age_________________________ Height______________________ Weight______________________ Skin Color____________________ Hair Color____________________ Hair Length/Style______________ Eye Color____________________ Wearing glasses/hat/jewelry?___ ____________________________ Voice(accent?)________________ Clothing:  Dress/Casual/Athletic Shirt Type/Color______________ Pants Type/Color______________ Shoes_______________________ Other identifying markers (scars, tattoos, birthmarks, facial hair?) ____________________________ ____________________________

Description of Adult 2: Male/Female Name_______________________ Age_________________________ Height______________________ Weight______________________ Skin Color____________________ Hair Color____________________ Hair Length/Style______________ Eye Color____________________ Wearing glasses/hat/jewelry?____ ____________________________ Voice(accent?)________________ Clothing:  Dress/Casual/Athletic Shirt Type/Color______________ Pants Type/Color______________ Shoes_______________________ Other identifying markers (scars, tattoos, birthmarks, facial hair?) ____________________________ ____________________________

Description of Child 1: Boy/Girl Name_______________________ Age_________________________ Height_______________________ Weight______________________ Skin Color____________________ Hair Color____________________ Hair Length/Style______________ Eye Color____________________ Wearing glasses/hat/jewelry?____ ____________________________ Clothing:  Dress/Casual/Athletic/Pajamas Shirt Type/Color_______________ Pants Type/Color______________ Shoes_______________________ Other identifying markers (pacifiers, toys, etc.) ____________________________

Description of Child 2: Boy/Girl Name_______________________ Age_________________________ Height_______________________ Weight______________________ Skin Color____________________ Hair Color____________________ Hair Length/Style______________ Eye Color____________________ Wearing glasses/hat/jewelry?____ ____________________________ Clothing:  Dress/Casual/Athletic/Pajamas Shirt Type/Color_______________ Pants Type/Color______________ Shoes_______________________ Other identifying markers (pacifiers, toys, etc.) ____________________________

VEHICLE Van        SUV       Sedan       Truck       Other___________ Brand and Model_______________________________ License Number________________________________ License State and County, any other identifiers on plate_____________ __________________________________________________________ Color_________________________ Special Markings or Dents_____________________________________ Tinted Windows?       Yes       No Bumper Stickers?____________________________________________

VEHICLE Van        SUV       Sedan       Truck       Other___________ Brand and Model_______________________________ License Number________________________________ License State and County, any other identifiers on plate_____________ __________________________________________________________ Color_________________________ Special Markings or Dents_____________________________________ Tinted Windows?       Yes       No Bumper Stickers?____________________________________________

VEHICLE Van        SUV       Sedan       Truck       Other___________ Brand and Model_______________________________ License Number________________________________ License State and County, any other identifiers on plate_____________ __________________________________________________________ Color_________________________ Special Markings or Dents_____________________________________ Tinted Windows?       Yes       No Bumper Stickers?____________________________________________

John A. Wilson

 

I turned seven the summer my family moved to Springfield.  We immediately began church-hunting.  We stumbled across this rather large church; First Christian Church.  Mom wasn’t sure about it.  She didn’t think a large church could make you feel welcomed or “at-home”.

But my sister and I begged to differ.  Because the phenomenal children’s department cuddled us right in.  We were “at home” immediately.

Every Sunday became a battle.  We would visit a different church, then return to FCC the following Sunday.  Our parents were eventually won over too, mostly by a certain gregarious white-haired man with a contagious smile.

I was absolutely starry-eyed over Mr. Wilson.  He looked so old, but he acted so young.  He took my sister and me out to lunch, all by ourselves—without our parents! And he talked to us the whole time, just like we were real people who counted.  He marveled over my dimples, taking every opportunity to stick his fingers in my cheek-holes.

I knew that when I got baptized, he would wear his white overalls, and I would wear a white robe, and we would walk out into the baptismal, and he would pray over me, and I would become a full Christian just like him.  And when I was ten, it happened.  I stood in the doorway, and he was there, in the water, smiling at me, holding out his hand.

Mr. Wilson ushered me into my new life, as he did for countless others, yet I was no number for him.  I was a very special little girl to him.  But I don’t know of any little girl, or little boy for that matter, that wasn’t special to him.

And one day, I stopped him and told him unequivocally, that when I was old enough, I wanted him to be the preacher to marry me and my husband.  I was still just a kid.  And he took my hand, patted it, and told me he didn’t think he’d be around for such an event.

So, after Chris and I got engaged, before we set the date for our wedding, we called Mr. Wilson.  I wanted to make sure he’d “be around” for my wedding.  Not only did he officiate my wedding, but he hung around for nearly nineteen more years.

My children had the privilege of knowing Mr. Wilson, of having lunch with him, and laughing with him.

My husband also grew up knowing Mr. Wilson, but instead of the cute little dimple poke, Mr. Wilson would give him a punch in the ribs!  Ah, well, Chris loved it!

Mr. Wilson passed away yesterday.  He was 100 years old; and eagerly awaiting his arrival to his Father’s house.  He was a singular individual, loved by many.

Thank you, Mr. Wilson, for your life and your legacy.  I will miss you.  You were my first taste of Jesus.  Not just the words of the Bible, but the attitude of the heart and the actions flowing from it.

Jairus' daughter

A young girl, twelve years of age, a beloved daughter, excessively ill.  We do not know her name.  I used to think that she was not important enough to name.  Perhaps she’s too important to name.  She could be me.

Why is she ill?  Did she cause her own illness through her own misdeeds?  Did she eat poisonous berries or visit a sick friend, exposing herself to a dangerous virus?

Or did her mother feed her stew that had been sitting one day too long, with meat just a bit spoilt?  Was she sent to run an errand through a neighborhood that lacked proper sanitation?

And his disciples asked Him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he would be born blind?”  Jesus answered, “It was neither that this man sinned, nor his parents; but it was so that the works of God might be displayed in him.

And it happened that the young girl died, and she died in a spectacular manner, having been born at the time a certain woman began having a bleeding disorder, her death marked the moment of this woman’s cure.  Twelve years of a beautiful life in stark contrast to twelve years of stigma and shunning.  One life ending as another is just beginning again.

This Rabbi, the one that healed the lady, felt power leaving him as she touched him, expecting relief from her pain simply from her touch.  Was this the power he was using to keep the child alive?  It does not matter; the power was transferred, the woman was healed, the miracle occurred.

Who holds power on the hem of their robe?  Who is so careless with such strength that they would allow it to seep out from their clothing before they could rein it in?

But this Rabbi was not done for the day; more works of God to be displayed.

He knew the secret that we fail to see, that the veil between life and death is but momentary and faint, like a nap one might take to escape the midday heat.

This child, dead in sin, both physically and spiritually, needed new life.

And it does not matter, when one reaches the critical moment, where the blame lies.  “Who sinned?”  What happened in the past is not God’s primary focus.  He is anxious to see how His works can be displayed in you, through the events that have occurred. 

The world sees our illness-ravaged bodies, our stumbling blocks; our sin.  And they discount us as “already dead”.  They deride our Lord for suggesting that we can be anything living, that we can come back to life, that we can make a difference.

But then Jesus steps in, says my name, takes me by the hand, and says, “Little girl, get up!”